#my legs are gonna be so buff after this year ends

[froggtogs]

clothing practice ft. wind

(sketch+just lineart under the cut bc i think they have more energy)

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Sooner or later, your friend will have to admit that you and Seonghwa are dating… most likely later, considering they still don’t believe you. Pairing: Seonghwa x fem!reader Tropes: no one believes you’re dating (aka reverse fake dating), established relationship Genre: fluff, smut, dash of humor Rating: R 18+ Warnings: genderless Seonghwa, language, nosy Wooyoung, kissing Smut Warnings: feminization, unprotected sex, Hwa in a skirt, whiney Hwa, dirty talk, service top Hwa, grinding, slight dacryphilia, pet names, orgasm (m and f), biting, hickeys, cream pie, implied dom Hwa at the end Word Count: 1,269 Note: Happy birthday to my lovely irl, @abbietwilight! Also, for the see u on the flip side event for @cultofdionysus, thank you so much to @anyamaris for beta reading and @sanjoongie for looking over the banner!

“There’s no way in hell you’ll ever convince me you’re dating him.” Wooyoung practically laughs, “You’ve always dated masculine guys, and Seonghwa is…”

“Not masculine?” You fill in the blank, “Ever think that it’s not about the physical appearance but the person?”

Wooyoung scoffs and flops back against your couch, “Let’s be honest here: your last boyfriend was buff; the one before him was buff, too. You’ve always gone for the muscular ones. Seonghwa is not that.”

“We’ve been dating for over a year, and you still don’t believe me? We’ve gone on dates. Hell, you walked in on us making out one day. How can you not believe me?”

As Wooyoung is about to argue again, your apartment door pops open. Your boyfriend steps through the door. His pretty, long, wavy hair barely brushes against his jawline as he turns toward you. A bright smile grows on his face as he strides over. That’s when you see it. He has a tight-fitted sleeveless top with a flowy aline skirt that swishes around his ankles. You can’t help but let your eyes wander his form. It’s not a subtle action. Seonghwa sees it but doesn’t stop you in any way. Standing up, you immediately approach him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Hi, pretty boy.” You hum, kissing him softly.

“Hi, baby.” He giggles back, “Sorry, I’m showing up unannounced.” You shake your head, “I’m happy you’re here. Wooyoung still swears we’re not together.”

“You two don’t have to pretend you are in front of me!” your friend sighs dramatically, “I don’t care if you’re single or not. I just know that there’s no way you two are dating. I need to go anyway. Sannie said he has plans for us.” He giggles.

Wooyoung walks out almost immediately after his comment. All you can do is shake your head and smile. Seonghwa leans down and surprises you with a kiss. Even though the affection takes you by surprise, you happily reciprocate it. Seonghwa also wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer against his body. The feeling of his skirt brushing against your legs makes you go a bit weak in the knees before you pull away.

“Wanna head to my room?” You offer with an undercurrent of want in your tone.

Seonghwa chuckles against your lips, “What’s stopping us.”

“Nothing at all, so let’s go.” You smile against his lips.

You pull away fully and drag Seonghwa behind you with your hand in his. Seonghwa laughs as he pulls your bedroom door shut behind him. You and Seonghwa have always been rather versatile behind closed doors. It’s way more fun compared to any other experience you’ve had. Seonghwa lets you guide him toward the bed and falls back onto it. His hair falls around his head, making him look more ethereal than usual. You lean over him and start trailing kisses to his neck. Your boyfriend starts to let out little whines and noises as you lay wet kisses against his skin. The more you kiss the sensitive skin, the more he squirms under you. Your hands travel down his sides, feeling his toned muscles beneath the tight fabric. When you press your hand against his hard member over his skirt, Seonghwa lets out a loud whine.

“Gonna let me use your cock, pretty baby?”

Seonghwa looks at you with shiny, needy eyes, “Yeah, want you to use me.”

You smirk and continue palming him over his clothes, “Want me to fuck you with your skirt on, or do you want me to take it off, you baby.”

“Need you so bad, just move it.” He whines, eyebrows furrowing together.

You quickly strip yourself of all clothing before flipping Seonghwa’s skirt up and pulling his underwear off his body. His cock is already leaking with need, and the sight of it makes your mouth water. Climbing into his lap, the feeling of the soft fabric against your bare body makes goosebumps pop up. You press your hands against his shoulders and revel in the desperate look on his face when you start to grind against his cock. He looks as though he may begin to cry just from the feeling of your bare pussy grinding against him. 

“Don’t- don’t-” Seonghwa starts to whine again.

“Don’t what, pretty baby? Don’t want me to mess up your skirt?”

He shakes his head, “No, I don’t care. Don’t wanna wait to feel you around me.”

“Aww, that’s cute, baby.” You chuckle, “I’m using your cock for my pleasure, though, aren’t I? It’s not up to you.”

“Please, please, please,” He whines, “I wanna feel you so bad.”

You chuckle again, “You’re lucky I want you just as bad, pretty boy.”

Sitting up on your knees for a moment, you reach underneath you and line Seonghwa’s cock up to your entrance. Slowly, you sit down on him, sighing erotically at the feeling of your boyfriend inside you. He wants you to move immediately, but you don’t want to give him that instant gratification. You sit still for a little bit, just enjoying the feeling of him inside you. The moment you start to ride him properly, your boyfriend’s hands fly to your hips, digging his fingers into your skin, hoping to hold onto his last threads of sanity. You just smirk at him and lean down and press your lips against his as you start to ride him harder. Any whines and moans he releases are immediately swallowed into the kiss. 

“You’re doing so well letting me use you like this, baby. Feel so good inside me.” You whisper against his lips.

“‘M not going to last. I wanna last, wanna be good for you, wanna-”

You kiss him to stop his babbling, “You’re doing so good for me, Hwa. Go on, put your pretty fingers on my clit, and help me get there. I know you can.”

One of Seonghwa’s hands slowly drops from your waist to between your legs. It’s a bit sloppy, but his fingers start to rub circles against your clit. As you bounce on his cock, his fingers continuously rub circles making you more wet by the moment. What you don’t expect is for your orgasm to hit you head-on out of nowhere. You start to spasm and shake above your pretty boyfriend as you ride out your high. Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you can’t help but sink your teeth into his skin and leave hickeys in any space you can reach. Your orgasm triggers his own without any warning. He cums inside you with whimpers and moans reverberating across your bedroom. The hand still on your hip digs into your skin harder, likely leaving little fingertip bruises behind. 

“You’re so pretty when you cum.” You mumble against his neck. 

Seonghwa chuckles, “No, as pretty as you look with my cum dripping out of you.”

Seonghwa shifts underneath you, still inside you as he moves. He pulls his hand away from your clit and holds it on your waist. He flicks and has you pinned to the bed under him. As he moves, his cock comes out of you, and you can feel his cum start to dribble out. He sits back slightly, his skirt falling into place again. His eyes fall between your legs and fixate on your messy pussy.

“Just like I said,” he muses, reaching out to run his fingers through your folds, “Fucking beautiful.” Seonghwa leans close enough that his lips brush against yours, “Are you up for another round, love?”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxy @jwnghyuns @minjaeluver

[beatrixstonehill2]

"I'm so in love with how my transition is going, shame it won't last but it's been fun while it lasted. My mom was really supportive of me transitioning through junior high but by the end of high school she met a new guy who's super transphobic and he showed my mom tons of videos convincing her I'm just a sissy who's extremely perverted and that this is only a kink. I'm twenty now and my transition has been pretty much perfect, my breasts are growing so fast! My mom and step-dad are super grossed out by my big tits, so much so that they made me get a reduction once already when I turned nineteen. I was a DD and went down to an A-Cup. I'm already back up to an E-cup! I'm def one of those trans girls who was meant to grow a set of massive MM-Cup boobs, maybe bigger! It's so mouthwatering to think about, having breasts that huge to show off for all the guys at the club. I can only imagine the kind of attention I'd get jogging with a set of boobs like that stuffed in a sports bra, spilling out. My ass would be sooo sore and leaking cum down my leg every day I get home....

But alas, my mom and step-dad are making me get my breasts reduced once again tomorrow! So, I'll be flat chested once more.... And this time I don't think I'll be growing them back any time soon! You should've seen how much they were celebrating when Georgia passed its new detrans laws. My heart sank but the sheer embarrassment and them teasing me/gloating about it made my cock so hard I had to run into my room, slam the door, and jerk off like four times in a row from how turned on the whole thing made me. Soooo as of this coming month all trans people under 25 will have to forcibly detransition, effective immediately. All trans guys will be given fertility drugs, breast growth drugs, or huge expander implants if they had top surgery. They'll be reeducated to be hyper feminine and forced to stay pregnant, like most cis girls in our state now after they come of age.

All trans girls like yours truly will be put through a brutal masculinization process. I think we're being sent to a sort of bootcamp where we'll be pumped with testosterone and dick growth pills, forced to watch all kinds of violent porn until our cocks are trained to find it arousing, then we'll be trained to fuck girls and show no mercy--that was the Governor's phrasing, anyway! And of course our boobs will be chopped off asap, so I'm going down to an A-cup tomorrow, then my tiny A-Cups will be removed the rest of the way next month. Soooo cruel but that's the point I guess, I'd be lying if I said it wasn't massively turning me on just thinking about it. Shame, if my mom didn't meet this guy we'd probably be moving to a trans-positive state and I'd get to have MM-Cup udders, a big fat ass for guys to fuck, and become the perfect sorority slut. Oh well, guess being a big muscular hairy dude with a huge cock won't be all bad...... I'll get to fuck all the cute girls I want, and all the detrans girls as they're reintroduced to being dumb, big-titted breeders, they'll get my big greedy cock as part of their warm new Georgia welcome.... Honestly, I'm kinda glad mom met this guy. I think detransing and becoming a boy will be the best thing that ever happened to me!

Although I am a bit worried.... I'm def gonna get buff and masculine at bootcamp, but my mom and step-dad have been teasing my for years that when--not if--I come to my senses and detransition they're gonna have so much fun making me a big fat incel gooner..... Mom constantly talked about it even when we were out in public. If somebody complimented me and called me beautiful, mom would tell them I'm really a boy and one day I'll stop playing dress up and get really fat and jerk off all day. "Mark my words!" She assured them all. Sooo..... there's a slight chance I might become a muscular stud when I'm staying at this detrans bootcamp place, but when I get home, I think mom is gonna make me get get fat, I guess her and my step-dad need someone to tease! So, how about it guys? Are you excited to see me in a couple years sitting around at home jerking off to porn all day as mom brings me piles of fast food? How fat do think I'll get? 300lbs? 400lbs? ..... 500lbs? So fat I can hardly get up? I bet mom and her boy-toy would love to see me get that big. My cock is getting so hard thinking about it.... mmmm..... just picture it, my huge round hairy gut, my moobs bigger than my breasts ever got to be, my face with a triple chin covered in stubble...... Screw being a beautiful girl with big tits, I think I'm finally picturing my true dream body. ❤️"

[rachelambery]

dbf!joel no outbreak hcs

nsfw near the end

- joel owns 1 pair of boots. at this point it's an ongoing joke that they're gonna outlive him, the once hard protective fabric has turned into something that now resembles tissue paper. they're pretty sure he thinks it's his second child

- you're unsure how he was a single father with his inability to cook anything except for breakfast, as far as you're aware him and sarah lived on frozen pizzas and Chinese takeout.

- as cheap as he is, he refused to skimp out on birthday gifts for you. even when you say "i don't want anything!" he'll show up to your party with a box of whatever trinket reminded him of you

- of him and tommy, he was definitely the lower maintenance of the two. everytime you'd sit next to them by the fire, the conversation of eye cream would always come up, maria put him onto it, and he REALLY things joel would benefit from it.

- joel doesn't play about his cigarettes, you're unsure how all of his teeth haven't fallen out with how many times he smokes a day. you'll look the other way and when you look back it'll just appear in his mouth.

- he smells like a mix of smoke and whiskey, as gross as it sounds, at this point the smell is comforting. reminds you of him. his truck.

- you're pretty sure he's narrowly avoided death with how poorly he cares for himself when he's ill. you'll go with your dad to work and your eyes will settle on him, coughing up a storm and practically vomiting while he builds the roof. when he eventually passes by and you question his state, he'll just say. "it's a cold. everyone gets it"

- once sarah moved out, he'd stay way too late at your dads house. and on nights back from college when you couldn't sleep, you'd end up sitting next to him on the couch, laughing. after a while you'd both fall asleep on the couch, your head normally nuzzled into his neck, enjoying the mix of whiskey and smoke that emanated off him.

- don't let his buff physique fool you. that man is only athletic looking, even at your state, when you hadn't trained since middle school track, you'd smoke him on a race to his truck everytime.

- he's the cheapest man you've ever met. in the 18+ years you've known him, you've only ever seen him buy 1 new pair of pants, and that was onto after he'd ripped his old reliables. you're pretty sure that's the first time you've seen that man cry like that.

- every bandaid in his house has dinosaurs on it, sarah used to refuse to use anything other than dinosaur bandaids, so it's ingrained in his brain to only buy them. even though she's been out of the house for months.

- he once fell off the roof during a job, they don't let him up there anymore.

nsfw starts here !! minors avert your gaze !!

- he's very respectful during sex, talking you through it, kissing you at every opportunity, praising you.

- he refuses to listen to you when you say your legs still work after, he'll pick you up bridal style and lay you in bed.

- he loves teasing you, it's actually sick how much he loves it. placing a hand on your thigh during family dinners, slowly working its way up until it's barely not touching you.

- he's a munch (self indulgent)

- whenever you're alone, he'll pull you into his lap nearly immediately, sometimes just to toy with your hair and sometimes to tease you

- speaking of hair, he likes when your hands find their way to his hair, pulling and gripping it

ok thank uuuuu

this was so self indulgent it's actually insane :P i apologize for my actions

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idia, Silver: Somehow I’ll be Strong

Silver casually doing his usual knightly duties and Idia being shocked at such Chad behavior will never not be funny 🤡 but seeing Idia passionately share his hobbies in the vignettes was wholesome! (The story about Idia singing with Ortho as they went to the bathroom together at night was also adorable 🥺)

Idia’s legs are so damn long, everyone’s been memeing them to the Underworld and back 😂 … Okay, but wtf is up with THAT face he’s making in the groovy?? That’s on a whole new level of sinister 💀 Is this really your mans, Eliza—

asiulbdg8yoadasbqerqo I'M HYPERFIXATED ON ONE OF HIS VOICE LINES where Idia threatens to flick your forehead if you get in his way but then he also confesses that his finger will hurt from doing that so you'd feel bad for him... bro, how weak ARE you...

A Tale as Old as Time.

Gazing upon the good and righteous was nothing new for Idia. He had pored over countless manga and light novels, binged shounen anime after shounen anime.

Here was another hero, bathed in bronze sunlight, posing triumphantly, a sword to pave the way forward and a battered training dummy to protect. His trusty winged steed beside him, a stout, wizened satyr, his mentor, hanging off of one bulging bicep. True, the arena they stood in was empty, save for the training equipment scattered about—but there was no doubt that the world would soon know his name, and his face written in the stars.

A platinum frame divided Idia from that legendary man.

Clutching onto one limp, flabby arm, he quietly scoffed. Haaah, it looks like a scene straight out of some musclehead's training montage...

"You're admiring this painting too, Idia-senpai?"

Idia's thoughts came to a screeching halt. Goosebumps prickled his skin, hair standing on end. A young man with a build similar to the hero in the artwork had appeared, handsome-face framed by moonlight locks.

"E-Eep! S-Silver-shi?!" His voice was pinched, a reverberating squeak.

The knight bowed his head. "Hello. It sounds like you're in good spirits."

Idia took a step back, as if he were the night making way for the encroaching day. The shadows were where he felt the safest, wrapped up in a cloak that granted him near invisibility from the average onlooker. Not with Silver. He who cast a revealing light wherever he drifted.

"Y-Yeah, what a n-nice painting..." Idia mumbled, not bothering to summon the effort to lie. He attempted to skitter away, cutting the conversation short, but—to his dismay—Silver continued.

"I look up to him too. There's many historical heroes we can look back on and learn from," Silver said with a nod. "I refer to them when I consider my own training regiment. They're inspirations to us all."

What's this?! Idia paled. Obviously I was trying to signal to him that I was gonna go AFK but this guy just starts spamming the chat!! H-Have I accidentally tripped an event flag...!? Or does he lack even more social awareness than an introverted otaku like me!?

Silver regarded him seriously—innocently, even. "Can I ask if this is the one you aspire to?"

Idia grimaced at the suggestion. "You're joking, right? Th-There's no way I could be a fraction as buff as he is!!"

The second year blinked, seeming undisturbed by the flustered response. “I don't think that's a concern."

“How’s it not? A hero can’t do crazy godlike stunts if he doesn’t have the right stuff…”

Silver shook his head. “My father has told me stories of warriors who were able to overcome their lack of strength with other provisions. A woman once pretended to be a man to infiltrate the military. Her wit saved their entire country from collapse."

"This man too…” Silver indicated the placard below the platinum frame. “… He gave up his strength to protect someone he loved. It was his noble heart that made the heavens recognize his godhood."

“W-Well…” Idia but his lower lip. He knew the tales as well as Silver did, but still he hesitated. “That’s true, but… isn’t it too unrealistic to think ordinary people could rise to those kinds of feats?”

His grip on his sleeve tightened.

The main character in Star Rogue... He started off as a zero and became a hero. But that's just a video game. Can something like that really happen in real life...? When true heroes are one in a billion?

Silver-shi makes it sound so easy.

His stomach lurched, wrenching into distorted shapes.

“If you have the drive, you can go the distance and somehow become strong,” Silver told him. His tone, reassuring yet firm.

“Somehow? H-How vague can you possibly get? That’s no way to achieve results…”

“It’s not brawn alone that determines your worth as a hero. Please have more faith in yourself, Idia-senpai."

As if just saying that will make my faith meter shoot through the roof! Anxiety-induced sweat beaded on Idia’s forehead.

M-Maybe if I tell him what he wants to hear, he’ll leave me alone… He warily eyed Silver. “O-Okay… I get it already. I’ll try, so…”

Please stop talking to me!! I-I don’t know how much longer of this pure-hearted anime protag speech I can stomach!

“You will? That’s great.” Silver smiled softly. His expression, Idia realized, reminded him of that of the hero in the photo frame.

A sparkling face, full of hope for the future.

A hero in the making.

That could be you, a tiny voice in his mind whispered.

A weight in his chest steadily lifted, then dropped again. Like a lost soul bobbing between life and death. Unsure of which way to go.

No, don’t be deceived. Life isn’t a game route that plays out with an easy ending. One misstep, and I’ll be floating in the River Styx.

Idia cut away from his underclassman. The hero’s big grin snagged in the corner of his eye.

Perfect, pearly, perky. Not a visible crack in a man seemingly chiseled out of marble.

But nobody’s perfect, not even the immortals. Everyone has a weakness or two in their systems, a security flaw, bug to exploit—and the bigger they are, the harder they fall.

Trust in excess turned into gullibility. Willingness to help could become one’s hubris. Goodness twisting into other shapes.

Suddenly, the hero was no longer infallible. His courage, painted foolishly.

If a hero could crumble, then so, too, could those at their lowest points rise up and rebuild a city. Make something of themselves. True one way, and true the other.

Someday, somehow, he’d be strong enough to face the odds—turning the impossible into the possible.

A slow, sinister smile crept onto his lips. Eerie, gleeful laughter filled the air. His shoulders, shuddering.

“Hihihihihihi…”

Silver’s ears perked. He inclined his head toward his upperclassman. It looks like Idia-senpai is reinvigorated. I’m glad I could encourage him.

[ohbo-ohno]

ok here’s the thing: I’m a fucking Hunger Games lore buff. I’ve read the books a million times and seen all the movies a bunch and read Songbirds and Snakes cover to cover. YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE OVER MY BRAIN.

Here’s a little brainworm for you: Tribute reader pulling a little Johanna Mason. Let me explain.

When Johnny and Simon get their hands on this years tributes, they can already tell they’ve got their work cut out for them. Simon takes over with the boy because the girl is quite obviously a pathetic sniveling mess. So Johnny gets to see through the trick mirror into Reader’s actual plan: disguise herself as a weakling and then catch everyone by surprise. She trains privately with Johnny, and he gives her all the know how and information she needs to survive. All Simon ever sees, though, is the weepy little thing with no chance of survival. So he’s understandably confused and agitated when Johnny insists that Reader’s gonna win, and places all of their bettings on her. He expects her not to make it through the bloodbath, and he thinks he’s right, until they play the faces of the day’s deceased and Reader is noticeably still alive.

A few more days pass. Johnny sends Reader some supplies to keep her alive and well-stocked. At midnight on the fourth day, Reader’s plan begins for real.

There’s about 14 tributes left counting her. Then thirteen. Then twelve. And then eleven. The cameras zoom in on Reader, covered in blood, with a satisfied smile on her face. She’s wearing a splint on her leg because allegedly she took a tumble- she rips the damn thing off with prejudice and sighs in relief. The broken leg was an act as well.

Simon has never been harder in his fucking life when he watches Reader carve her way through the remaining tributes. The games end with a catastrophic earthquake and a cinematic finish, as Reader pushes the last competitor into a ravine. After she comes out of the healing bay good as new and ready to make her debut as the newest Victor, Simon and Johnny are waiting for her. They have to postpone the after games ceremonies while Simon pounds the Reader against the nearest surface and licks all the blood off of her face.

there's this moment in the first hunger games book where katniss recalls several past hunger games and why they were/weren't popular, and in one of them she mentions a games where the only weapons provided were "horrible spiked maces that the tributes had to bludgeon one another to death with" and it's my personal headcanon that that was johanna's year 💞 can you imagine her going from being a little teary, a lot pathetic, to a killing machine with a fucking mace and winning the whole Games? ohhh my god

anyways i'm fucking obsessed with this take on a hunger games au and i would read several thousand words about it. tysm for gifting it to me

[the-girl-with-the-glass-heart]

Imagine if Harvey and Alex swapped bodies and had to do that whole cliche thing where they can't let anyone know.

Perhaps it's the farmers or the wizards fault but it doesn't really matter now they just have to fake it till the farmer can complete a stupid bundle to change them back.

Perhaps George has a check up scheduled with Harvey that they can't cancel so Alex has to pretend like he knows what he's doing while harvey just awkwardly sits in the room trying desperately to give hints.

"Now it's time to uhm- uh-" "God just spit it out already we know what checking some ones vitals means." "Oh, yeah that's definitely what I was gonna say!" "Yeah whatever just put that stethoscope thingy on his chest and ask him to breathe already so we can leave, I gotta... football?".

After the doctors visit Alex awkwardly asks George if it went well and George just goes "you seemed just as incompetent as usual, so I guess it was fine".

Harvey on the other hand is having a bit of struggle acting like Alex around everyone else, Harvey hasn't been Alex's age in a very long time and when he was Alex's age he wasn't very... uhm... Alex.

In his early 20's Harvey spent most of his time reading text books and building model airplanes, he didn't talk to alot of people if you get my drift.

So now Harvey is very awkwardly trying to imitate what a cool person in their 20's might be like even though he has no idea what that could be.

Haley asks him to dance at the flower festival and Harvey acts like his normally anxiously flattered self and that really weirds Haley out so much that she takes back the offer immediately, making Alex quite mad and embarrassed.

This would probably be even funnier if Alex and Harvey tried to dress more like themselves, just because Harvey is Alex now, that doesn't mean Alex gets to walk around in a letterman jacket as if he's still in high school, it's suits every 24/7! And Alex on the other hand spends alot of his time with his shirt off.

By the way Alex is incredibly upset by the loss of his abs, he went from being this buff and strong 20 year old with abs to having toothpick arms and chicken legs and somewhat flabby stomach (hey Harvey is pushing 40, he can't help it, it's why he takes aerobics classes) with a stupid mustache he thinks is hideous.

At one point Alex tries to tan to make himself feel better but he ends up looking like a giant tomato with obvious tan lines because Harvey is so pasty that he can't tan as good as Alex.

At the end of this when they switch back they're just gonna be like "Ya know, I thought the point of a body swap was to understand the burden of each other's life's and grow to understand each other more. All I learned is that I'm painfully awkward." "All I learned is that I'm never gonna be a doctor, it's too stressful" "Trust me Alex, that is NOT the reason you will never be a doctor.".

Edit: hey if you guys are gonna keep liking this post can I ask you to check out the drawing I made for this post, I worked hard on it and it's gotten very little attention, I know it's pathetic to beg for likes but it is the first thing I ever drew for stardew valley.

Plus it even has more ideas for this in it, I guess you don't have to but it would make me feel a bit better about wasting my time on drawing that.

[aitaikimochi]

My Hero Academia DRAWING SMASH Exhibition Master Thread + Audio Guide Summary Translation!

1) All My Hero Academia DRAWING SMASH Tweets and Info 2) Horikoshi’s Interview about the Exhibition 3) Pre-Order MHA Exhibition Merchandise

FULL AUDIO GUIDE SUMMARY TRANSLATION: 1) Welcome Message 2) Roaring Sports Festival 3) The Test 4) My Hero Academia School Briefs 5) ULTRA HEROES 6) WANTED VILLAINS 7) ONE FOR ALL 8) ONE’S JUSTICE 9) Ending Credits

TRACK 1: WELCOME MESSAGE

All Might introduces and welcomes us to the My Hero Academia DRAWING SMASH Exhibition. Deku is also there and says that while listening to this audio guide, please don’t stop movnig as you will hold up the line and flow of traffic. He explains that the Exhibition is split into many different areas, and there’s tons of hand-drawn panels by Horikoshi-sensei on display too. There is also a section in the Exhibition that focuses on the anime too! All Might tells Deku that there’s a section dedicated to All Might himself, and Deku gets super excited and turns to Bakugou and says, “Kacchan, did you hear that? Uh Kacchan? Where are you?” Deku tries looking for Bakugou, but Aizawa comes and tells Deku to move along the line.

TRACK 2: ROARING SPORTS FESTIVAL

Ochako waves at Deku and says, “over here, Deku!” Deku goes to where she’s standing and looks at the different manga panels from the Sports Festival. He says thanks to Ochako, Tokoyami, and Hatsume, they were able to win that fight in the Sports Festival. Ochako sees her fight with Bakugou and says he was too strong, but she really wanted to win that fight for her Mom and Dad. Deku tells her it’s okay because she definitely tried her best. Ochako gets a bit flustered at this. Bakugou then passes by and asks, “Who did their best? No matter how many times I fight Deku, I’d obviously always win. But if Deku maybe was a bit more buff, he could PERHAPS put up a fight.” Ochako exclaims, “WOAH! Bakugou praised him! It’s definitely going to snow tomorrow.” Bakugou tells her to shut up.

Deku sees the next panel, which is the fight between himself and Todoroki. Ochako excitedly recites the line Deku said to Todoroki, which was the “It’s your power isn’t it!?” line. Deku gets embarrassed and tells her to stop. Todoroki thanks Deku and says it’s because of him that he remembered why exactly he wanted to be a hero in the first place. Bakugou yells at them for being sappy and gross. They then turn their attention to the panels featuring the fight between Todoroki and Bakugou. Deku said Todoroki performed really well, but Bakugou’s Howitzer Impact move was super strong. Bakugou yells that he doesn’t want to be reminded of his unwarranted victory from that fight. Todoroki apologizes.

Ochako says that Bakugou’s poor performance made his image look really bad since it was broadcasted on national television, but Bakugou says he could care less. Todoroki says he’s sorry he didn’t fight his best as he was troubled during that fight, but his head is clear now. Todoroki says he will be a proper hero. Deku says he wants to be like All Might. Bakugou says he wants to surpass All Might. Aizawa then comes and tells the group to move along as they are holding up the line.

TRACK 3: THE TEST

Deku explains that after the Sports Festival, the Hero Class went on internships with Pro Heroes. Todoroki mentions that during this time, the villains started to make moves in society, such as when they encountered Stain. Deku then goes on to say that after the Stain encounter, their class went to do the Forest Training during the Summer. Ochako remarks that Bakugou got kidnapped during this training period, and Bakugou tells her to shut up. Todoroki then explains that he, Iida, Kirishima, Yaoyorozu, and Midoriya went to save him. Bakugou continues to tell everyone to shut up. Deku then says he’s glad they were successful in saving Bakugou, all thanks to Kirishima. Bakugou says, “I told you guys to stop talking about this!”

Deku then talks about the next moment in the timeline, which was the Provisional License Exam. Ochako said she trained so hard using her Zero Gravity quirk that just thinking about it now makes her want to throw up. Deku says that even though it was really difficult to train for the exam, the training did help him master using the Shoot Style with his legs as well. Todoroki mentions that the move Midoriya came up with using his feet was very strong, and Deku said that he also got used to it. Deku thanks Hatsume for making the costume and shoes for him.

Ochako says the Provisional License Exam this year in particular was difficult as the passing rate was abysmally low. She asks Bakugou if the Provisional License Exam was difficult, and Bakugou says “shut up don’t remind me.” Todoroki then says, “Yeah, it must have sucked to fail the Provisional License Exam” and Bakugou says, “What the hell- you failed too!” Deku tells them all to calm down. He says that Bakugou’s team did well in the first exam thanks to Kaminari’s new technique made possible by the point shooter gear he got from Hatsume. Bakugou once again tells everyone to shut up.

Todoroki recalls that their entire class did well in the first round, but he personally messed up in the second round, which caused him to fail the exam. Bakugou mocks him and says “what a loser, failing the exam” and Ochako says “but you failed too.” Bakugou yells “SHUT THE HELL UP!!!”

TRACK 4: MY HERO ACADEMIA SCHOOL BRIEFS

This entire track is a recap of various events that happened at U.A. Academy on campus. Deku starts off by saying he was so nervous when he first started school at U.A. but was thankful that he was able to make friends with Iida and Ochako so quickly. Bakugou scoffs and says, “isn’t it because you just didn’t have any friends in middle school?” Deku nervously says, “I think I had a few friends…!” Todoroki asks Deku why he didn’t deny it though.

Ochako remembers that Aizawa first asked the class to test their quirks, and Aizawa comes in and says he did that because he wanted to see their potential. Deku gets nervous and wonders if Aizawa came up to them because they were holding up the line, but Aizawa said he didn’t even say anything.

Todoroki said being part of the Hero Class meant that they had tons of different types of classes, and it was sometimes quite confusing. Ochako says even though it was difficult, it was still fun, such as when they had to decide on their hero names. Bakugou scoffs and says, “Stupid Deku actually chose his Hero Name as ‘Deku’ the hell? Did he finally lose it?” Deku rebutts and says, “But I actually like that as my Hero name!” Bakugou asks Deku, “What’s so good about that name?” Deku then asks Bakugou if he had decided on a hero name yet, and Bakugou says, “Nah, I’m not gonna tell you.” Deku replies, “What, why not?”

Aizawa reminisces and says that Deku and Bakugou fought really well against All Might during the Final Exam. Bakugou said he did that so he could win against All Might. If it wasn’t for that why would he team up with Deku? Bakugou then yells, “Stupid Deku! I’m gonna Kill you!” and Deku gets confused as to why he’s saying this. Ochako mentions that saying stuff like that would definitely get them cut from all Hero interviews, and Todoroki mentions that they should be careful about what they say.

Bakugou gets mad and says he’s going to kill all three of them, and Deku asks, “so now you’re targeting 3 people!?”

Aizawa reprimands them and Deku apologizes, promising that he won’t argue anymore. Aizawa keeps a firm stance to Bakugou too. He tells Bakugou that heroes need to use their quirks to save people, not kill them. Bakugou says it wasn’t like he was actually going to do that, he’s not that kind of person.

All Might steps in and says they should put this behind them. He suggests that they should just go and see the other stuff in the Exhibition together in the U.A. area. He sees that there’s a section made just for Mineta. Deku says, “Wow it’s full of Mineta scenes!” Ochako looks at it and says, “Oh, how nice” and Bakugou says, “hmph, it’s just a place to show off an animal.” Todoroki asks Bakugou if he’s jealous that Mineta has the spotlight, and Bakugou says, “Ha! As if!!”

All might sees the Cultural Festival area and says, “Oh! This is the time when U.A. Academy held the Cultural Festival!” Ochako mentions that it was really fun. All might says Class A performed with both a band and a dance team. Deku mentions that during the Cultural Festival, the whole school gets together to create activities and open stands around the campus, and it’s not just the Hero Class but the General and Economics classes also join in too. All Might asks who’s idea was it to do the dance for Class A? Deku says it was Todoroki’s idea. Todoroki said he just thought it would be nice to have something that everyone can participate and have fun, and Deku says it was a great idea.

Ochako says everyone was able to participate in it too. Deku mentions Jirou was the one in charge of leading the band, Ashido was in charge of the dance team. Todoroki said they did well using their quirks to create a great performance. Ochako says she didn’t expect Bakugou to actually participate and play the drums for them, and she recites his line, “Let’s kill ‘em with sound!” Bakugou scoffs at her and Todoroki asks Bakugou, “why do you get angry when people praise you?” Bakugou replies, “What the hell are you even talking about!?”

Todoroki goes on to say that Jirou’s performance during the song was really great. Bakugou yells at hiim to stop changing the subject!

All Might asks if Deku enjoyed the Cultural Festival. He answers that it was really fun, and seeing people outside of their class was awesome, such as Eri as well. Deku mentions that they were able to finally let her smile, and that made him so happy. Aizawa also agrees.

All Might says it’s important for heroes to bring smiles to people’s faces. He tells them to never forget that. Deku says, “Of course, All Might!” Aizawa says to Deku that he’s stopping in line again. Deku apologizes, and All Might asks them to hurry along down the line.

TRACK 5: ULTRA HEROES

This track plays in the area where you see all the Hero panels. The heroes on display are Mirko, Bakugou, Ochako, Deku, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor, Amajiki, Kirishima, Mirio, and Nejire. Ochako says, “woah, there’s so many heroes!” Deku gets excited and sees the first Hero, Mirko. He goes on a ramble saying she’s ranked #5 in the Hero Ranking, her quirk is using her bunny abilities. He says that Mirko has not only a ton of male fans, but female fans as well. Bakugou snickers at Deku and exclaims, “you’re such a Hero nerd!”

Ochako mentions that the next Hero after Mirko is Bakugou. Deku introduces Bakugou, saying “This is Bakugou Katsuki. He’s enrolled in U.A. Academy and sits in Seat #17 in Class A. He has a hero name, but he won’t tell him…”

Bakugou gets angry. Todoroki then continues and says, “His quirk is explosions by using nitroglycerin that he emits from his hands.”

Bakugou tells them to shut up.

Todoroki ignores Bakugou and continues with, “His personality is…”

Bakugou screams, “SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!”

And Todoroki finishes with, “…like that.”

Ochako then sees herself and says, “Oh it’s me!!” She explains her quirk and how she can cause anything to float if she touches then, but if she puts her fingers together, she can release the zero gravity as well. Bakugou then mentions that she also throws up if she uses her quirk too much. Ochako gets embarrassed and says that he really did not need to say that!

Deku says they should go on to the next person, which is him. He introduces himself as Midoriya Izuku, and his hero name is Deku. He whispers, “My quirk is…One For All…Please read the manga to find out more about it…” Todoroki asks Deku why he’s whispering, and Deku gets nervous and says, “Oh, it’s nothing at all!”

Deku sees that next up is Todoroki. Ochako introduces Todoroki and says “his full name is Todoroki Shouto, anad his hero name is just like his first name, Shouto!” Todoroki explains his quirk, and Deku says he has a truly impressive quirk since he can combine them together to create awesome attacks. Todoroki says he still needs to polish his quirk, and Ochako mentions he’s a very stoic person.

The next hero is Hawks, and Deku gets excited, saying “Oh it’s the winged hero Hawks!” Deku goes on to ramble details about Hawks, such as him being Rank #2 on the Hero Ranking Billboard, his quirk is using his feathers, but he keeps going on and Ochako says, “Ahh, maybe we should move on to the next one!”

Next up is Endeavor. Todoroki explains that Endeavor’s Quirk is called “Hell Flame.” He can emit fire at extremely high temperatures, but if he overuses his quirk, he gets burned instead. Deku says on that note, Todoroki’s quirk is better than his father’s since he can use the ice part to cool himself down. Todoroki muses that perhaps he does have an advantage over his Father.

The next Hero in line is Amajiki Tamaki. Deku introduces him as part of U.A. Academy’s Big 3. His hero name is Sun Eater. His quirk is transforming parts of his body into animals, and he can do this by eating food of that animal. Ochako explains further that if he eats takoyaki, he can use octopus arms, if he eats fried chicken, he can use the chickens legs. She then goes off saying, “tuna, beef, fish roe, mochi…” Todoroki asks if she just suddenly started rambling on about food because she just wants to eat those food, and Ochako says “I’m hungry…”

Deku sees that the next hero is Kirishima. He asks Bakugou to introduce Kirishima since they’re friends. Bakugou says, “What do you mean friends? He’s just my lackey!” Deku says, “Err…okay, Kirishima Eijirou, Hero name Red Riot. His quirk is Hardening.” Bakugou then scoffs saying, “He’s just an idiot who gets hard, that’s all!” Ochako comments, saying, “Well, you don’t need to be shy about it!” Bakugou then yells, “I’m not being shy!”

Todoroki moves the conversation along and mentions that the next Hero is Mirio-senpai. Deku introduces Mirio’s hero name as Lemillion and mentions his quirk allows him to go through things. Ochako says that according to Aizawa-sensei, Mirio is the closest to being the same rank as the Number 1 Hero. Bakugou grumbles and says, “No, I’M the one who’s going to be Number 1!” Ochako says, “Right…of course you are…” and Bakugou gets furious, saying, “YOU DARE MAKE FUN OF ME!?”

Ochako notices that the next Hero is Nejire Hado. She introduces her and says her Hero name is Nejire-chan. Ochako explains how her quirk works, and Deku remarks that Nejire can also use it to fly. Ochako adds that Nejire also won the U.A. Beauty Contest during the Cultural Festival.

Todoroki says after seeing all the Heroes lined up like this, everyone truly has amazing quirks. Bakugou says they’re all underlings compared to him though. Ochako says, “Right…of course…” and Bakugou explodes once again, asking,  “What the hell, are you making fun of me?” and Ochako repeats, “right…of course” to which Bakugou curses. Deku says to the group, “We really should be moving down the line now…”

TRACK 6: WANTED VILLAINS

Aizawa asks All Might to look at the new data he pulled up on the computer about the League of Villains. The first villain they look at is the various Nomu. The file says that the Nomus are injected with quirks that are stolen or enhanced from either themselves or other people. The next villain is Stain, who Aizawa mentions killed many heroes that he deemed unfit to be a Hero. His quirk is being able to control people by drinking their blood. All Might says the next villain in the file is Gigantomachia. Aizawa mentions that aside from being able to make his body gigantic, not much is known about Gigantomachia’s quirk. What they do know is that he works for All For One.

The villain after that is Twice with a quirk that allows him to multiply hiimself.

All Might mentions that the next villain file is Shigaraki. Aizawa says he’s the current leader for the League of Villains. His quirk is the formidable disintegration quirk that can disintegrate anything that he touches with five fingers. Next up is Dabi. Aizawa mentions that his quirk is unknown but he has been seen using blue fire. Aizawa remembers fighting against Dabi during the Forest Training, and he saw that blue fire.

All Might pulls up Toga’s file afterwards. Aizawa mentions that she can turn into anyone if she has even just a sip of their blood. The villain after her is Mr. Compress, who is able to compress and decompress things or people. He can also use it on multiple objects at the same time.

The villain after Twice is Re Destro, who is the leader of the Meta Liberation Army. Aizawa says that his quirk is stress, which he builds up to release immense power.

All Might then opens All For One’s file. Aizawa says that they really don’t know anything about his quirk. The villain after him is the Doctor, who also has an unknown quirk. They do have information that the Doctor is the one in charge of creating the gruesome Nomu and High End Nomu too.

All Might mentions the League of Villains is probably plotting something even though he fought All For One and sent many of them to Tartarus. Aizawa said they must be scheming something since if the incident with the High End nomu is any indication. All Might says even if the League of Villains is on the move, the Heroes will not lose to them.

TRACK 7: ONE FOR ALL

Track 7 is a monologue by All Might. It plays in the All Might section of the Exhibition where manga panels of All Might are on display as well as a ton of decoration with All Might on the walls as well.

All might says that in order to create a society where people can freely smile and feel safe, it was necessary to have a Symbol of Peace. He wanted to be a pillar where people can depend on and smile when they see him. All Might says he inherited One For All to do just that. He is the 8th successor of One For All, and all previous One For All holders and he worked together to try to defeat All For One. However, even if they lose their lives in the fight against All For One, their hope still passes onto their successors.

They need to be Symbols of Peace for the people. All Might says he wants to be the person who can bring smiles to people’s faces. No matter what happens, he needs to keep on smiling. Those who are able to keep smiling are the strongest. That’s why he smiles.

He says that Young Midoriya and he were both quirkless. But after meeting Midoriya and seeing the strong willpower that he possessed, he knew that he had to mentor him to be his successor. All Might says to Midoriya, “Everything, from One For All to my own feelings in my heart, I entrust them all to you. Young Midoriya, you’re next.”

TRACK 8: ONE’S JUSTICE

Track 8 plays in the room where there’s panels leading up to the Paranormal Liberation War Arc. All Might starts off the audio track by explaining the big war between the Villains and the Pro-Heroes, which the U.A. Academy heroes in training also participated in. Endeavor, Miruko, and Eraserhead were dispatched to the lair of the Villains where Shigaraki unfortunately awoken as well. Once he woke up, he began destroying people and things one after another. However, the Heroes did not waver and fought back to villains while protecting the civilians.

What the villains want is to create a new world without heroes.

What Shigaraki wants is to destroy everything.

What Midoriya wants is to protect everyone with a smile.

What Bakugou wants is to be the best hero and not lose to anyone.

What All Might wishes is if Young Midoriya and Young Bakugou can work together and acknowledge each other, they can both become who they want to be.

To save and win, to win and save.

All Might says if they are able to do this, they can become the Strongest Heroes.

Deku then exclaims, “Go forward, Midoriya Izuku! Use the power All Might entrusted in you to save people. I will save and win!”

Bakugou then says, “I will win and save! That’s Bakugou Katsukis’ way of life on the path to become the Number One Hero!”

All Might ends the track with the line, “To destroy the word or to save it. One For All’s successor Midoriya Izuku fights head on with All For One’s successor, Shigaraki Tomura.”

TRACK 9: END CREDITS

All Might says he’s come to send us off and thank us for visiting the exhibition! Deku also says thanks for coming. Ochako asks if we had fun? Todoroki says they were able to relive a bunch of different moments at this exhibition. He says he is thankful for it, and Deku agrees. Ochako asks Bakugou how was the exhibition? Bakugou says screw this- they should all go back inside and just focus on everything Bakugou related, forget about the Villains or anyone else. Todoroki says, “Well, if we do that we’ll need to reserve tickets again so…”

Aizawa asks All Might to do the closing message. All Might thanks us again for visiting, but things don’t just end here! The world of My Hero Academia will only keep getting bigger and bigger! Deku hopes that we can always cheer them on.

All Might then leads everyone in saying “GO BEYOND, PLUS ULTRA!!!”

Deku says to us, “Let’s meet again soon, everyone!” He then turns to All Might saying, “That’s good right? Oh, oh crap I still need to get in line to buy the limited edition goods only sold at the Exhibition! Wait let me go line up ahhh!” and scurries off.

All Might then laughs and says “as expected of the headstrong Young Midoriya!”

[artzee-bee]

Devil’s got a weak spot | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer (Netflix)

Request: ”Can you do this please.Lucifer is vulnerable around the reader ,And Lucifer loves the reader. Lucifer is wounded to defend the reader. reader bandages his wounds and blames him because it happened to him for her.And they have been friends for many years and the reader knows that he is the devil ,And asks him why he is vulnerable and injured and finally lucifer confesses to her how much he loves her . Thank you. Your writings are wonderful. ”

Genre: angsty with fluffy ending

Warnings: canon typical violence and bad writting probably

~~~

You laid back the seat of Lucifer’s car as much as you could, hoping to get lost in the shadows. Without wanting to, you got sucked into one of his and Chloe’s investigations, but because you weren’t a cop, you had to stay in the car while they took care of business. Well, Lucifer at least. Decker promised that she was on her way with backup but Lucifer couldn’t wait, so he ventured into the old house alone.

You two were on your way to an art exhibition when Chloe called, all but pleading Lucifer to go investigate this specific house, saying she’d be on her way as soon as possible

“Our guy is there!”

“How could you possibly know that, detective?”

“Lucifer, right now is not the time! Please, you need to go!”

As instructed, he turned the car around and drove straight to the location. He didn’t have time to drive back to the other side of Los Angeles to drop you back home, and you were too terrified to be left alone on the streets like that, so you went with him. He was the devil after all so what bad could happen? He’d take care of you! Lucifer didn’t seem too worried either, as he kept telling you that everything would be taken care of in no time and you two could go on with your night, but the further away you got into the woods, the more unsettled you felt. You didn’t want to alarm Lucifer so you kept to yourself but as soon as he got up and left to look inside the building, you felt your heart beating out of your chest in panic.

You stared at the car ceiling, trying to remember the breathing exercises a friend taught you long ago, to no avail. With every deep breath you took, you could hear your heart beat louder and louder in your ears, until you heard something else. Different. Shuffling.

You tried not to move, knowing the safest thing for you would be to stay where you were, concealed by the darkness, but you had to know what was going on outside! Maybe it was just some animal, rummaging through the woods. You couldn’t be sure it was anything threatening at all unless you took a look!

Standing up in your chair slowly, you peek out of Lucifer’s window and see a man dressed in black, digging a hole in the ground. He seemed to be about your height, but much more buff. Broad shoulder with a thick beard. You pulled out your phone, thinking this is crucial evidence that Chloe and Lucifer must have! You recorded every move of the man, from the car. Your flashlight wasn’t on, obviously, which made the quality of the video pretty sucky, but it was definitely readable. You watched slowly as the man dug out what looked like a backpack or a small luggage. He quickly grabbed it and walked away, down the street you and Lucifer had come from. You tried to follow him with your camera as much as you could but eventually, he left your view. In a spur of curiosity and bravery, you opened Lucifer’s door just slightly. Enough to be able to peak your camera out and continue recording the man! It felt like an important job, like you were part of the team and, curiously, you found the feeling of panic diminishing, replaced instead by power and pride!

The car door swung open suddenly and your phone was snatched away by a tall blonde man, dressed in all black. He quickly dragged you out of the car and gagged you with a cloth. All of this happened so suddenly, you barely had time to react or fight him off. He was much stronger than you anyways, so when he slammed you face first onto the hood of the car, you could resist him in any way that mattered.

“Y/N!!” you heard Lucifer come from behind you. He must have just exited the house. 

Everything was so confusing and you could barely process your surroundings. You got yanked away from the car, and turned to face Lucifer.

His hair was messed up and his nice shirt, the one he had bought just last weekend and had been so excited to show you, was now ruined with blood and gunk and mud. He looked out of breath but his fists were clenched, ready to fight.

“Not a single step further!” the blonde man said, as he glued the barrel of his gun to your temple. Your knees went weak.

“I’m not going to do anything!” Lucifer said, raising his hands in surrender “Surely we can come to an agreement!” “I highly doubt that!”

“There must be something that you want! That you’ve been dreaming of for years now! I can make it happen!” you saw right through Lucifer’s act. His voice was calm and somewhat conspirative, as it always was when he was granting people favours, but his eyes spoke of fear and uncertainty. Uncharacteristic of him. 

“Tell me, what is it you truly desire?”

You repressed a smile as you felt the man slightly relax his grip around you. He fell into the devil’s spell. Eventually, the words flew out of his mouth.

“I want my mom back”

“Oh, well that can be arranged! Just let me know where she is and I can guarantee that…”

“She’s dead”

“Oh…” Lucifer’s smile faded

“Yeah, I’d love to see how you’re gonna do that!” you felt the vulnerability of the man translate into his body language. As you were still pressed against him, you felt his grip loosen significantly and decided this was the one chance you got. You kicked your foot back, hitting the man right in between his legs, forcing him to let go of you completely. You took off running towards the woods behind the car but you didn’t have a chance to get far before you heard Lucifer attack the man. You looked back at the fight, only to see the blonde fire his arm into your friend’s leg. For the first time ever you saw something on Lucifer’s face that you had never seen before: pain. He screeched in agony as he pulled away from the man but before the fight went any further, another shot was fired, hitting the blonde man in the shoulder. This one came from behind you. Chloe had arrived at the luckiest of moments. You were sure that had it not been for her, you would have been dead and the guy would have probably gotten away again. Now however, he was in the back of a cop car, on his way to the precinct. Decker and the rest of her team began scouting the place for evidence while you sat outside with Lucifer, carefully tending to his wounds.

“Why?”

“What do you mean darling?” “Oh, where do I even begin!” you joked, but could feel tears brimming in your eyes “First, why did you get hurt like this? You are invincible! You always have been, I mean hell, I’ve seen you get caught in a crossfire before and walk out of it just fine! What was it about this guy and this guy's weapon that made the DEVIL bleed!” you said, showing him the bloody cloth you had been using to clean off the wound “And second, why did you attack him like that? That was reckless! I mean you got SHOT for fuck’s sake!”

Lucifer took a deep breath before answering “ It wasn’t him or his gun. It was you! I am vulnerable when I am around you”

“How is that even possible?! “ “Amenediel had some ideas about that…” he tried to laughed it off

“Like what?” you could tell he was avoiding the subject but you weren’t having it! You were deeply concerned for the safety of your friend and him keeping secrets from you was not something you could tolerate any further

“He thinks I choose to be vulnerable when I’m around you…”

“Why would you do that? That’s ridiculous!”

“For the same reason that I attacked that man Y/N” he said, meeting your eyes for the first time since you had been left alone “Because I love you. And you aren’t just a friend to me”

You looked at him in astonishment and were unable to suppress the giggling fit that took over you. You shook your head lightly before leaning up to kiss Lucifer’s lips. He tasted of black coffee and cigarettes and fit perfectly against you. He kissed you back shyly, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

“You should have just told me instead of taking a bullet in the leg, you know? I understand how some people would find that more romantic. Risking your life for the other person and all that, but I prefer you safe and healthy. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am” he said with a smile

“Come here!” you replied, leaning back into him for another kiss.

[ptergwen]

love is more than a word

w/c: a very ouch 3.6k

warnings: so so so much angst and an unhealthy (ish) relationship

summary: after nearly four years together, peter has stopped trying

a/n: listen y’all i don’t know what came over me when i made this but i think it’s the saddest thing i’ve ever written? uh try to enjoy tho

-

you never thought this would happen, but you’re getting tired of peter. it isn’t your fault. that cliche it’s not you, it’s me line doesn’t apply here.

at first, you actually did find yourself believing the it’s me part. you’d came to the conclusion that you expect too much from peter. he goes to class, he works, patrols, sometimes parties, takes you out when he can. he’s got a lot going on for a full time college student, which is a busy life to lead on its own.

it’s why you don’t complain when he wants to spend the night in and order a pizza instead of cooking together like you’ve been wanting to try. it’s why every time your friends ask you two to hang, you have to reluctantly explain that peter is passed out at eight o’clock on a saturday.

there’s a lazy “wanna make out?” some nights, if peter isn’t yawning when he steps through the front door. even that has lost its enjoyment. kissing peter doesn’t give you the rush it used to, the taste of his strawberry chapstick not flooding your senses and intoxicating you. it’s become predictable. comfortable. boring.

peter is boring.

you’ve slipped into unspoken routine. say your hello’s, work on separate assignments in different rooms. peter eventually yells something like “babe, you hungry yet?” across the apartment, his passive way of asking you to make dinner. you usually order takeout because why make an effort if he doesn’t?

you might watch one of the ten movies peter has liked since before the start of your relationship. he’ll usually fall asleep during it. no surprise there. his overpacked schedule exhausts him, which you’ve talked to him about spreading himself too thin. peter is too nice and can’t say no, so this is where it leaves him.

the main reason you’ve stayed with him is that he can’t take care of himself. he’s clueless about paying the bills, sorting his laundry, simply remembering to drink water. peter wouldn’t be able to go a week without you. he even says it himself.

“crap, i totally forgot about these,” when you picked up his special ordered textbooks from your school library. “can food go in the garbage disposal?” a rare time you didn’t wash the dishes. “thank you, y/n/n. you’re literally a lifesaver,” whenever you do a task for him that someone in their 20s shouldn’t need assistance with.

you didn’t used to mind much. he watches over the city every night. you felt you should return the favor. spider-man could use some help, too. after the almost four years you’ve been together, peter has become completely dependent on you. it only got worse when you moved in together your junior year. you’re concerned how he’ll manage later in his adult life.

you’d think he’d be a little more passionate about your relationship considering how much he needs you. you know peter still loves you, of course he does. that’s not what the problem is. he’s become content with the mutual feeling, so he doesn’t try anymore. he expects the spark to keep itself lit.

no more random joke of the day texts that he used to send you. he stopped surprising you with your coffee order in the morning, the one that he memorized the first time you two went to a starbucks. what you initially found most endearing about peter was that he remembered every little thing you told him.

he put whatever energy he had into showing you that he listened. he’d do it all with rosy cheeks and that toothy smile of his. it seems now like he’s under the impression that being in a long term relationship means none of that matters anymore. there’s no need to impress you, keep you guessing, make you feel special.

tonight is your breaking point. as you go over all of this in your head while peter lays peacefully next to you, you can’t take it. you’ve been making so many excuses for him. you lie to yourself. you’re desperate to believe this is okay and normal and you can work this out, and you can love whatever version of him this is.

but, you can’t. you can’t do it. you need to tell him now because if you sleep on this, you’ll end up feeling bad and be stuck under these suffocating blankets forever.

“peter?” you whisper his name, your back turned to him in bed. you haven’t cuddled each other to sleep in a while. his arms don’t make you feel held now, they make you feel trapped. you’ve been forcing yourself to ignore his look of hurt when you reject his open embrace.

“peter?” you speak louder after a moment of silence, except for his occasional snores. a loud one escapes him before they stop altogether. his eyes stay shut as he mumbles out a, “uh... huh?” your heart is thudding through your entire body. you take a breath in from your nose. “i wanna break up.”

the breath you let out next is one of relief, those three words that have been scratching your throat for months finally out. peter slowly turns his head over his shoulder. he blinks rapidly at your motionless figure. you’re still not facing him.

“what?” is all he says. his voice is surprisingly steady, the confession not yet registering with his sleepy mind. his eyes are burning into you. “i wanna break up,” you repeat and squish your face further into your pillow. peter suddenly sits up, flicking on the lamp on his side. he tries to sling an arm around you. you move further away until you’re at the edge of the bed.

“i’m serious, peter. everything we had, it’s gone.” your words cut through him harder than literal knives he’s been stabbed with. “i- i don’t understand. where is this coming from?” he rakes a hand through his mess of curls. you turn onto your back, looking up at peter. his eyes are fixed on your lower half.

he’ll most definitely cry if he meets your eyes. he really doesn’t want to cry, not ever again when you won’t be here to make him feel better.

“it’s been coming,” you almost scoff at him as you prop yourself up against your pillows. peter’s teeth tug at his lower lip. “all we do is this.” you gesture to your bed, slapping your hand down at your side. “i get tired,” he speaks quietly, refusing to look at you. “i know you do, peter. i know, but you’d be a lot happier if you ever listened to me.”

your statement comes off as condescending to him. he works up the courage to look you in the face. “are you kidding? all you do is boss me around, and i take it. i’ve never once complained.” anger is coursing through his veins and voice. at the situation, that he’s about to lose the one stable part of his life. you’re getting pissed, too.

“that’s because you can’t do anything yourself!” you throw the blankets off you and swing your legs over the bed in one motion. peter hops out of bed entirely. “my whole life, i’ve been on my own half the time,” he spits as he comes over to stand in front of you. “sorry for taking you up on your offers to help.”

your peter would never spew that shit out. he wouldn’t guilt you for something he’s in the wrong about. this peter takes you for granted. he has no clue how fucked he’d be without you.

the first time you spoke to peter was on your way to history 227. you’d recognized him from your class, much more interested in the pretty boy taking notes with his tongue stuck out than whatever war your professor would lecture about.

he was carrying some books, a pencil case that didn’t fully zip, and a five subject notebook. you watched him do his balancing act through the halls until his legs started to wobble. a knowing smile on your face, you tapped his shoulder. it was a gentle one so you didn’t scare him and make all his things fall over.

“can i carry something for you?” you laughed out and pushed one of your backpack straps up on your shoulder. peter only stared at you, his doe eyes prompting you to reach for his pencil case. “uh, no, it’s fine. i got it. see?” he proved that to you by hiking everything up in his arms. he gave you a smile of his own.

“are you sure? we’re going to the same place,” you’d checked again and pointed at his impressive pile. “i’m not gonna steal your sharpies.” “really, i’m fine,” peter insisted with a heart clenching chuckle. “you can have one, if you want,” he offered and attempted to unzip his case, one handed. you put your hand over his to stop him.

“wait until we get to class,” you let go of him, leaving the tips of peter’s ears a shade of pink you’d later fall in love with. “i’ll sit with you.”

peter was once determined to do things on his own, to be self-sufficient. it used to be something he was proud of. now, he’s completely incapable of holding his independence.

“we’re done, peter.” your tone is short, you getting to your feet. “you’d probably forget how to fucking breathe without me, but call it bossing around, i guess,” you laugh bitterly and go over to your drawers. peter’s face falls as he grabs your wrist, stopping you when you pass by him. “where are you going?”

no answer. you pull yourself out of his grasp with your lips pressed into a stern line. peter follows you step by step over to the dresser. “wait, wait. don’t leave, baby. please,” he begs you, getting onto his knees beside you. you’re pulling random clothes out as quick as you can. a science t-shirt peter outgrew is in your hands.

peter used to give you all his old clothes. the signature smell of his cologne lingered no matter how many times you washed them. they kept you calm on nights he was out late patrolling or away on missions. peter would sport a smirk whenever you wore them out in public, pulling you closer to him and complimenting the look.

it started when he was packing for his first mission since you two had begun living together. he’d realized he became too buff to fit in some shirts. remembering how many times you’d giggle at their funny sayings, peter gave them to you. you threw one on and thanked him with a peck on the cheek. it became your tradition.

peter would set off for a new continent, but a piece of him would stay home with you.

the stretched out hoodies and ripped sweatpants just sit in your drawer now. another meaningful thing discontinued. whatever he doesn’t want goes to may for donations now. the memory of what they used to mean to you makes a fit of rage burst through you.

you slam down his ‘find x’ shirt in the space between his knees and yours. you’re on a mission of your own this time. you aren’t going anywhere until you get rid of all the stuff that went from him to you.

“y/n, don’t do this. i- i love you. i love you.” peter chokes out, tears filling his eyes. his vision is clouded while you toss more clothes to your side. “i love you, y/n/n,” he whimpers again, and this time you briskly push the drawer shut. the whole dresser shakes. this is the most emotion either of you have shown in the past few months of your relationship. it’s a little too late.

“love is more than a word, peter. you have to back it up with actions.” you’re doing your best not to cry. the memories of how loved peter made you feel play in your mind. he briefly wipes under his eyes and shakes his head. he’s so oblivious. “i thought i- i did.” “exactly, you did. you gave up at some point.” your voice gets weaker as a tear drips down your chin.

you didn’t plan on breaking down when you imagined this moment. part of you wishes you could give him another chance. most of you knows it wouldn’t do any good for you or peter. you’re not right for each other anymore. he outgrew some sweatshirts, you outgrew him.

that takes you all the way back to it’s not you, it’s me. it’s really both of you.

for the last time, you pull peter in for a hug. the two of you need this. he loops his arms around your back, keeping them loose around you as he tucks his face into the side of your neck. you’re a mix of tears and sharp breaths with your chin on his shoulder. you bring a hand up to the back of his head, grabbing a fistful of curls.

he sobs right into your ear, effectively destroying whatever composure you had left.

even though you’re not in love with peter, you haven’t stopped loving him. somewhere inside of him is the goofy boy who asked you out on a post-it during class. the kindhearted man who gave so much of himself to the world and saved enough for you. the one whose fingertips left goosebumps on your skin with every touch.

seeing him like this, having caused it feels like a dull pain rippling in every part of your body. you’ve been there to soothe him during countless breakdowns over the years. you managed to stay strong for all of them. this is the only exception. he lost people, felt down about life, made mistakes. you were there to pick up each piece and put them back together.

the one mistake peter made that you can’t fix is not loving you right. you became his rock, his anchor whenever he let grief and sadness rule over him. you’d get him back to himself. he could’ve at least bought you flowers once in a while, or done anything that showed his gratitude. every iteration of awful put together isn’t enough to describe how he feels.

“i’m so- i’m so fucking sorry, baby. i don’t deserve you. i never have,” peter murmurs as he cries, wetting your skin that his face is still pressed into. your fingers pull roughly at his hair. hot tears overflow from your own eyes. “i should’ve done more.” his voice cracks on the last word. “that’s all i wanted to hear, pete,” you breathe out and pull away from him.

“does that mean you’ll stay?” he croaks, arms still wound around your body. his eyes are hopeful when they lock with yours. a frown pulls at your lips. “only for tonight. i should... one of us should sleep on the couch.” “oh,” his voice is gravelly, so he clears his throat. “i’ll do it.” you’re not going to fight him on it for once.

peter removes his arms from your waist, you sitting back down on your thighs. you give him a blink and you’ll miss it smile because you can’t keep one for long. it’s to let him know you’re not mad. you were at the start of this conversation, then he took accountability. you also came to terms with the fact that the downfall of your relationship was a joined effort.

there are more factors than peter not giving you what he should have. time, different goals, new outlooks on life. you can’t hate only him because a whole bunch of things lead to this.

instead of a smile, since he physically can’t put one on his splotchy face, peter brushes the pad of his thumb over the corner of your lips. he gets up to leave the room, but you stop him with a “wait!” he freezes in front of you. you get out a hoodie from his pile of old clothes and stand up. “it’s cold.” you put it in his hands, earning a grin that he didn’t think was possible.

“thanks, y/n,” peter sighs and holds the hoodie against his chest. “goodnight. um,” this is the part where he’d usually say i love you. “sleep well, okay?” the replacement stings for both of you. you’ll have to learn to fall asleep without hearing that phrase first. as much as you didn’t feel it anymore, you’d become used to it. “you too, peter. night,” you say softly.

you head back to your bed while peter walks out the door. he glances at you once, and you’re already settling under the covers. he shuts the door behind him before finding his way to the couch.

your bed has always seemed too small. it’s gigantic without peter. you aren’t sure how you feel about that yet.

peter lays across the couch, the hood that doesn’t quite fit him pulled over his head. he’s only wearing it because you gave it to him. you doing that not even five minutes ago was how you backed up your love with actions. it’s so easy. silent tears spill from his eyes at the realization.

he wishes on every star that he could’ve figured out he wasn’t doing enough sooner. you’d be together right now, had he just caught on. there was a time he prided himself on knowing you fully and completely. how to turn you into the shy one with certain combinations of words, what your schedule was each week so he could plan his free time around it.

your relationship became something he thought would last unconditionally. if only he was able pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong.

you’re right in the other room. he can go in there and bawl, plead for you to take him back. how could he do that and claim to love you, though? you’ve made it clear you‘re over him.

the best way for peter to show you he loves you is by letting you live your life, without him in it.

-

you don’t see peter again for weeks. he moved back in with may, and you got to keep the apartment. you were the one who took all the care of it, anyway.

your semester ended at the perfect time because peter isn’t in any of your new classes. the city is too big to bump into each other. you’re free from the hold he had on you, which would’ve been four years long since yesterday. you’ve been good at picking up his broken pieces for too long, and now it’s time to pick up your own.

for all the hangouts you missed on his behalf, you made up for it. you called mj the day after your breakup and met for lunch. she never explicitly said it, but she took your side. peter had a feeling because when he had the same idea as you, to lean on his friends for support, she never reached out.

betty is indifferent, ned stays cordial with you. his real loyalty is to peter. you can’t blame him.

peter hasn’t been doing well since you broke up. he’s not eating enough, he can’t focus on work of any kind. you were right when you said he would forget how to breathe without you. he often wonders how you’ve been.

he finds out today.

you’re walking around campus, heading in the direction peter just came from. he has a class in the building your last one was. the two of you are on the same sidewalk, opposite sides. he almost doesn’t recognize you.

mj is on one side of you, a guy he’s never seen before with an arm around your shoulders. you’re all laughing about whatever dumb thing your professor said during the lecture. your hair, which is done in a new style, flows behind you in the spring breeze. a smile takes place on your glossy lips. the smile is directed towards that guy. your new boyfriend, peter assumes.

you look amazing, and not only physically. you seem happy with your small group of people. peter hadn’t been able to give you that happiness in years, so it’s nice to see you got it back somehow.

he must have stared too long because you notice him. you fall behind mj and your potential boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in discussing your next project. peter stops walking. you do the same. he’s not sure if he upset you, or what’s going on. his instincts tell him to apologize. his mouth stays closed.

that infectious smile of yours appears once again. you thought about peter yesterday, it being your anniversary and all. you’d only let yourself remember the good things. they outweighed the bad ones when you look back on everything.

“aye, grandma! get over here!” mj calls to you, your boyfriend nudging her side. “take your time, y/n/n. i’m not in a rush to write seven long ass pages.” you laugh to yourself at the two of them. peter fiddles with the zipper on his jacket. it’s from the drawer of things you used to wear. “one sec!” you yell back.

“hey,” you turn to face peter, who’s giving you a tight lipped smile. “how’ve you been?” “i’m okay. just, you know,” he shrugs and clasps his hands behind his back. there’s a short silence before peter says, “you seem good. really good.” he smiles for real this time. “yeah, i am. i hope you are, too,” you tell him and genuinely mean it.

you’d like to catch up soon, but it’s not right yet. you both need more time. “i’ll see you around?” you’re already starting to walk, backwards so you can see peter. “uh, sure. bye,” he gives you a quick wave and continues on his way.

you get back to mj and your boyfriend, his arm returning to your shoulders. they waited for you by the stoplight. “what’d ya get up to over there?” he teases, mj suspiciously watching your face for any tells. you carefully think through your answer with a grin. “love.”

[joonessence]

The compliment // jjk

summary: When Jungkook remembers a passing comment you made about one of his friends, he makes sure you’ve learned your lesson.

wc: 2.9+k

tags: smut, pwp, kinda possessive/ jealous jk, dirty talk, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (obv stay safe guys), slightly dom!jk, praise kink, jk calls oc baby an insane amount, fluff at the end though, hmm i think that’s it?

notes: this is a part 2 for this but it can be read alone, also there’s like a year time jump between pt 1 and 2 so if i turn this into a series i’ll order them in the series masterlist in chronological order soon

Maybe it’s all the blood rushing to your head, but you’re positive you didn’t hear Jungkook correctly. It’s one of the rare days that you and your boyfriend have a day off. Normally, one of you would have come up with a way to spend your time together but after that time Jungkook tried taking you to the park and ended up pushing you just a little too hard off the swing (your unripped jeans became ripped jeans that day), you mutually decided that the plan-making responsibility, minus the times he planned dates, would fall to you. Today, you felt like doing absolutely nothing, leading to you and Jungkook laying on his bed with both of your feet resting on the wall behind it. You’d spent more than an hour like this before Jungkook asked you something that had you wracking your brain in search of a memory of what he mentioned.

You turn your head to look at him, incredulously. He’s still looking up at the ceiling with a growing smile on his face.

“Do I remember what?” you ask as you sit up, half expecting Jungkook to take back his statement and say it was all a joke.

“I said, do you remember when you called Namjoon the buff one? Before we started dating?” At this point, his smile looks like it’s taken up more than half his face. Why is he smiling when he’s asking if you remember complimenting someone else? Seeing the prolonged, baffled look on your face he sits up too and reaches for his phone.

“I’ll show you, I think I can still find the message,” Jungkook’s got this determined look on his face while scrolling through thousands of your texts throughout the last year. When you met him over a year ago, Jungkook instantly made you lose your breath. What really surprised you is that he still had the ability to do so, with his twinkling eyes and too bright smile. You were stuck for good, but you don’t mind; you actually preferred it. Jungkook lets out a triumphant noise, signaling to you that he’s found what he’s looking for, and he reads it out to you.

“Here it is, and I quote, ‘I was just wondering if you could tell your tall buff band member that I liked his voice.’ It’s right here!” Jungkook looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to confess your sins.

It takes everything inside you to not burst into laughter. Of course, the second Jungkook started reciting your message, you remembered it. You recalled testing the waters, to see if Jungkook would give you any sort of reaction and you also recalled thinking it was hilarious. God, you were so funny.

“Oh, I remember that, why are you asking?” you wonder, suddenly curious as to why he would bring it up so long after the fact.

“I just remembered it randomly, it’s so funny that you lied to try to get me to be jealous,” Jungkook states.

All in under a second, you decide to play along.

“Lied? Babe, what are you talking about?” you put on your best confused face to sell the act. You’re praying Jungkook falls for it.

He cocks his head to the side and looks puzzled for just a moment before he lets out a huff, “I know what you were trying to do, you lied and used Namjoon to get me jealous. I’m big enough to admit that it worked. You got me.”

You almost feel bad for what you’re doing. “I mean, yeah, that’s what I was doing but I wasn’t lying about Namjoon,” you trail off, quietly.

You can feel Jungkook’s fists clench on the mattress and you look up to see his eyes hardened. You’ve come to learn that Jungkook doesn’t like sharing much and definitely hates sharing attention from you. Jungkook is scooting towards you. He’s towering over you, making you feel small, his jaw clenched as he looks down at you.

“Since when have you thought that about him,” Jungkook spits out ‘him’ like he can’t speak Namjoon’s name anymore.

Your gaze falls as you hesitate to speak, considering calling the whole thing off, but you’re a beat too late. Jungkook’s thumb finds your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him.

“I was just kidding, Kookie. You know I only have eyes for you,” you gulp, nervously.

Jungkook scoffs, as if he doesn’t believe you, and then smirks. You already know what you’re in for.

“How about you try to prove it and if I believe you, you’ll get something in return,” Jungkook’s words flow out so smoothly that you’re already crawling down the bed.

When you muster up the courage to look up at Jungkook, he’s positioned himself with his back against the headboard. He sends you a questioning look, silently asking if this is okay, and when you nod, he’s smiling at you with that too bright smile, like he’s already forgiven your transgressions. You’re climbing into his lap to straddle him and before either of you can say anything, Jungkook pushes your head down, your lips meeting his. Jungkook’s hand slides over your cheek to your jaw to pry it open, his tongue slipping in and meeting yours. Underwear already soaking, you shift on Jungkook’s lap to find some relief, which you find only for a moment before he removes his hand from your jaw and places it on your hip to still your movements.

“I thought I said you’d get something in return only if I believed you,” Jungkook says with a smirk.

You let out a whine, this is so unfair, and Jungkook laughs, “Don’t complain, baby, you did this to yourself.”

A huff escapes past your lips before Jungkook is pulling you down again, this time towards his neck. You kiss his searing skin, the spot under his ear, then his jaw, and trail down the column of his neck. Jungkook’s letting out little grunts to encourage you to keep going. You lower your hands to the hem of his shirt to lift it up and pull it over his shoulders. You continue kissing down his chest and look up, anxious to get Jungkook’s approval. By the way his face is flushed, you know you’ve already got it. You get to the band of his sweatpants and leave light kisses, the kind that almost tickle.

“Don’t try teasing, baby, I won’t let it slide,” Jungkook states in a dominating tone.

You nod briefly and slide the sweats down. Jungkook’s cock, already hard, slaps his stomach. You let out a giggle, another thing you’ve learned: your Jungkook never wears underwear when he doesn’t have to. Your laughter dissipates quickly when you spot the curve of his cock, it always makes your mouth water and right now is no different. Jungkook moves his hand from the mattress to the side of your head, pushing your hair out of your eyes. You make an appreciative noise before grabbing the base of his cock and leaning over it to release a trail of spit, connecting him to your lips.

Jungkook’s breathy grunts let you know you’re doing something right when you move your hand up and down the length of his cock. You poke your tongue out to lick your lips and Jungkook groans.

“If you take any longer, I swear I’ll make you take care of yourself,” Jungkook threatens.

With that horrible thought in mind, you lean forward and place small kisses up the side of his cock, skin so hot you feel like it could burn you. You swirl your tongue around the angry, red tip and Jungkook’s hands find a place in your hair. Opening your mouth, you wrap your lips and the tip and suck, using the hand that’s not steadying yourself on Jungkook’s thigh to slide up and down the rest of his cock. 

“That’s it baby, look so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” Jungkook praises, “Let’s see if you can fit some more in that pretty mouth, hmm?”

You try to nod without moving too much and continue sliding down, tongue rubbing against the thick vein on the underside. Jungkook’s cock feels heavy on your tongue, the way you like it. You get halfway before you hollow your cheeks. When you look up, Jungkook’s head is thrown back, his hair framing his face. Your heart swells at the sight for two reasons. 1. You love Jungkook so much and 2. Jungkook looks so good when you’re making him feel good, you make it your mission to have him always looking like this. 

Gripping your hair, Jungkook pulls you up, off his cock. You’re confused for a second before he explains.

“Are you gonna let me fuck your mouth, baby?” Jungkook’s tone is strong but his eyes give him away, he wants you to say yes so bad.

You nod your head and place your palms on his thighs to steady yourself before opening your mouth and taking his tip back in. You look at Jungkook to let him know you’re ready. Jungkook’s breath is shaky as he puts his hands back in your hair and starts to thrust into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, f-fuck that’s so good, baby,” Jungkook’s tip reaches the back of your throat. Your eyes are tearing up. “Take some more, baby.”

You try to slack your jaw to take more of Jungkook. Underwear beyond soaked, you straddle one of Jungkook’s legs and press your core down on it. The pressure is tamed by your shorts but it’s enough for now. Letting Jungkook thrust forcefully into your mouth, you circle your hips on his leg, moaning around his cock at the feeling of your sticky underwear against your skin. 

“Namjoon’s cock wouldn’t look as good in your mouth, hmm, baby?” Jungkook lets out between groans. You look up at him and nod, eagerly. When Jungkook catches sight of your gyrating hips, he shoves you off his cock and sits up, chest to chest with you.

“Didn’t you hear me the first two times? What makes you think you can use my leg?” Jungkook looks angry now.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”

Jungkook’s frown grows into a smirk. He’s got something planned.

“You want it that bad, hmm?” Jungkook fakes concern, “Beg.”

This was new for Jungkook, not that you minded. He looks at you with real concern this time, afraid he’s overstepped his boundaries.

“Jungkook, please, I need something, please, Jungkook, please help me,” you plead, repeatedly. If he doesn’t touch you, you think you could die.

“Good girl, baby. Come here,” He lays back down and motions you to come up.

His lips clash against yours in a messy kiss. His hands slide over your shoulders and down to your waist, pushing down your shorts. You wiggle out of them and place your legs on either side of Jungkook, his hands instantly finding your hips and pushing them down against him. His cock is hard against your clothed pussy, rubbing up and down providing relieving friction for you both. You moan, aching for something.

“Lay down,” Jungkook mumbles against your mouth.

He flips you over on your back and leaves wet kisses down your neck. With your help, your shirt comes off and right away his hands find your breasts, massaging and kneading. He’s kissing around one nipple while his hand is tugging on the other. It’s a little rough but Jungkook knows you like it like that. You moan loudly, unable to keep it in and Jungkook is smirking against your nipple.

“Namjoon wouldn’t have you making those noises, right, baby?”

You nod, hoping and praying that eventually Jungkook will move his hand towards your pussy. Instead, Jungkook shakes his head and tuts. 

“Not good enough, gotta say it,” Jungkook looks smug now.

Normally, you would show some resistance to Jungkook’s inflated ego but right now that issue pales in comparison to how badly you need him to touch you. 

“Namjoon can’t, he couldn’t, just you. It’s just you, Kookie,” you babble. 

Satisfied, Jungkook kisses down your stomach, his tongue tracing the sensitive parts above the waistband of your underwear, your body is second nature to Jungkook. With his fingers hooked onto the sides, he drags your underwear down your legs, slowly, not wanting to give into you just yet. His hands come back up your legs and push them open to reveal your dripping pussy. He squeezes the flesh of your thighs and leaves open-mouthed kisses on the insides. Your hole clenches around nothing, as if trying to tempt Jungkook into giving it a taste. 

“Such a pretty pussy, baby, so wet for me,” Jungkook says and you bask in the glory that is another praise from Jungkook. 

Finally, Jungkook’s fingers trail from your thigh to the puffy lips of your core and spread them open to see your swollen clit. Jungkook sighs like it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever witnessed, he makes you feel like it really is. He blows warm air and the contrast between it and the cool air of the room makes you tremble. In a swift movement, Jungkook is pushing forward and leaving a wet kiss on your clit.

“Oh m-my god, Jungkook, please, keep going,” you beg him, but it’s your idea this time.

Pleased, Jungkook rewards you and licks a fat stripe from your hole back up to your clit before stuffing you full of his tongue. Your legs try to shut around his head, but Jungkook pushes them back open and circles his arms around the backs of them to keep them in place. His thumb moves to press down on your clit and circle around it. Your hips buck involuntarily into Jungkook’s face and he groans out like he welcomes it. Jungkook circles his lips around your clit and sucks while prodding your hole with two fingers.

“You look so good, so good for me only,” Jungkook asserts.

“Only for you Jungkook, no one else,” you breathe out, surprised you can even make out the words.

Jungkook’s fingers slide in smoothly, you’re unable to keep your mouth shut, going from letting out high pitched whines to begging Jungkook to keep going. Your hands shoot to his hair, pulling it the way you know Jungkook likes. His fingers move in and out with a purpose while his tongue rubs over your clit. Legs shaking and the feeling of release nearing, you tug on his hair and remove him from your core.

“Kookie, I-I can’t, I’ll come if you keep going,” you say breathlessly, hoping he gets the message.

“Fuck, okay, baby.”

He leaves one last kiss on your clit before he’s moving up to kiss you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. Jungkook takes hold of his cock and rubs the tip against your swollen lips.

“Look how wet you are, just soaking for me,” Jungkook’s in awe.

Jungkook finally pushes himself past the tight ring of muscle. Both letting out a sigh, you revel in the way he stretches you out so good. Jungkook thrusts hard into you and you let out a whine- turned moan.

“You take me so well, baby, so perfect. Namjoon can’t make you feel the way I do, hmm?”

“F-faster, Kookie, p-please, I’m so close,” you say, feeling your stomach tightening.

Jungkook listens and throws your legs over his shoulders, at this new angle you can feel every vein, every ridge of his cock. Moans are spilling out of both of you at an uncontrollable rate.

“F-fuck, say it, say I’m the only one that can make you feel like this, can make you come like this,” Jungkook pants out between thrusts.

“It’s only you Jungkook, just you, no one else, I love you, Kookie,” you ramble on, almost to tears.

Jungkook lurches forward to press his lips to yours. His hand, between your sweaty bodies, travels down to circle around your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.

“I love you, baby,” Jungkook mumbles on your lips, unwilling to move his lips from yours for just a second. 

Jungkook’s thrusts are becoming more sporadic, and he brings his free hand down onto the pillow, beside your head for balance, you can tell he’s close. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your release coming any moment now.

“Open your eyes, baby, look at me when you come,” Jungkook says and who are you to refuse?

Your hand reaches up to grab his hand, the one on the pillow, as you come. Your legs shake and your lips tremble as moans tumble from your mouth. With a few more thrusts, Jungkook is covering your fluttering walls with his warm come. Jungkook removes himself from inside you and lays beside you, both trying to catch your breaths. His breathing still hasn’t returned to normal when he turns and looks at you.

“I feel kinda bad for Namjoon.” Jungkook laughs, breathlessly.

“Why are we still talking about Namjoon after all that,” you ask, almost too tired to, but you know if you don’t ask, he’ll just tell you anyway.

“Well,” Jungkook sits up with his head leaning on his hand and explains, “He doesn’t get to love you like I do. I feel bad for everyone who isn’t me because they don’t have you like I do.”

It’s so true, it’s only Jungkook who can make you feel the way he does.

[semischarmed]

Chrysalis

People say that college is where you “find yourself” and I can’t help but agree. It’s just, well, how I truly found myself was through my roommate Kyle. Or rather, inside him.

How to describe Kyle? He’s basically the perfect roommate. He’s kind, quiet, studious, relatively clean. He goes to soccer practice for some kind of campus league every weekend. Kyle is also rushing one of the frats on campus- Sig something or the other, so I get quite a few long nights to myself. Long, hot nights where I can’t help but scramble over to his side and pleasure myself in a pile of dirty Kyle-scented undergarments. The biggest treats were the nights when he had to do his frat stuff after a match. The nights when I could slip on his unwashed sweaty gear and just lie in the bliss of being surrounded in him. Every few days, we go out to grab a bite to eat and shoot the shit- the guy’s been a great friend to me, despite his typical serious demeanor. Since he was rushing this semester, he’s been busier and busier but he still makes time for me, even inviting me to some of his soccer team or frat bro hangouts. What can I say? I lucked out with Kyle. Still, I’m a greedy son of a bitch, and I wanted more of him. 

I decided fairly early on that I would possess him, make him wholly mine. I can’t even quite explain why Kyle specifically. He’s cute-sure, tone-definitely, but he isn’t super buff, he isn’t red-carpet-movie star hot, so it’s really hard to place why, out of anyone I could take in this entire school, I decided he would be my target. My forever home. Something about him was just enticing. Maybe it was the way his coffee brown eyes relayed a sense of mystery and serious matters, but lit up with the faintest twinkle of amusement when he recapped his games. Or maybe the way his body only gave me the briefest of glimpses at his musculature when he switched shirts. Maybe it was his kindness, unexpectedly bright for a frat-boy-soccer-star-roomate. Or maybe the way his scent lingered in the room after a workout. God, that scent. Pleasant, warm, humid, musky- like summer rain. Doesn’t matter. I wanted him. I wanted to spend my every moment with him. In him. I wanted to be wrapped up in Kyle’s flesh till the end of time, to wake up with Kyle’s eyes, to take every breath with his lungs, feel every beat of his heart pump as mine.

This possession was going to be special. I prepped for weeks- months even. Truthfully, it’s not all that difficult to possess someone for sometime and when you’re as good at it as I am, you can even maintain it indefinitely by putting the smallest pieces of yourself in them. Kyle would be different. Full, integrative possession- a one-way ticket. I wanted this shit to be permanent. I was going to stuff my entire physical form inside his. To take someone at their core, to violate every law of nature both physical and metaphysical- this, this needed setup, needed planning, needed Kyle to be present during the entire process. Therein lies the issue- how to get a lucid Kyle to sit still long enough for me to complete the slow process of integrating to him. 

I came to the conclusion that a catalyst of sorts was necessary. Something that could lock us in together physically, could stop him from leaving or stopping process, could break open after let the new and improved me emerge. Guess who drafted plans for a one such catalyst? Guess who switched majors to Material Science, who befriended a professor just to figure out a good semi-permeable material to use? No one can say I didn’t love him- at least in my own special way. After weeks of trial, weeks of iteration, I decided on a tight-fitting, sleeping-bag-esque contraption. The material and shape were special- virtually impossible for a human being to break out of, kept fluids in but let some air flow through for ventilation, shaped such that we could only fit directly stacked on top of each other, leaving him unable to escape the process. I also set the release mechanism in the back, so only a completed Kyle could escape. Like any good invention, I gave it a name befitting its purpose: Chrysalis.

I settled on a day where he would be weakest- cardio day, a day where I could easily slip some compound into his post workout mix. I finished preparations with the chrysalis, secretly hidden in his bed.

“Hey dude, sup?” He asks nonchalantly with a slight head nod, as he enters our room, visibly tired from the workout. “Nothing, man” I reciprocate in amusement. I watch in secret anticipation as he downs his special post-workout mixture, scratches his cock through his boxers- unconcerned, comfortable, and gives off a loud yawn. “Hey man, I-I-don’t....feel..” I rush to help him, corralling the grimy, tired, post-workout Kyle into place. He asleep almost immediately. I strip us both naked, marveling at my new vessel. Damn. A light pelting of hair covers the deceptively muscular soccer star. A blanket of sweat surrounds him while a bit of the spiked post workout drink pools at the corners of his plump lips. Deliciously plump lips beckoning for a taste. I aim to lick it off and give him a kiss before I immediately realize what the repercussions would be. Shit. Close call. I stroke his hair, leaning in to tell him how much I wanted this. I take a quick sniff at his pits, at his groin and god they smell fantastic. I roll him to his side, as I take my naked form beside him and pull the Chrysalis around ourselves. I roll to have my back face the bed and the bottom of my cocoon, pulling Kyle on top of me and engaging the the contraption to wrap around us. I find the button to tighten it, effectively locking the position of our stacked bodies in place. I find the final button to lock the Chrysalis into its release valve. No going back.

When I seal us together in my little love cocoon, I begin to feel the gravity of his form above mine, slick with perspiration. My future body was dense, probably from years of building muscle, perfectly tempered, toned, streamlined by every game, every win. Inside our encasement, I rocked back and forth, getting into as comfortable of a position as I could and rubbing our sweaty bods together. I lock my legs around his, intertwine our fingers together and wait patiently for Kyle to come to.

The scent was indescribable, orgasmic even. I’ve never felt closer to him. I am in tune with his slightest movements as he lay on top. With every breath, every inhale our bodies rise and fall in sync. With every steamy inhale I draw in his breath. like we were breathing in each other. No one else deserved to experience Kyle this way, not even his girlfriend Steph. Kyle was mine and mine alone. With mine still intertwined with his, I drag Kyle’s limp hands around his belly, his light abs, give him a feel for himself.

An intrusive wave of uncertainty hits me. Oh god what am I doing? Am I really doing this? This, this is unnatural. I release my hands from his grasp and reach them around him, lightly dancing them across my future body and feeling the new vessel so close, feeling his damp, gently sculpted abs for myself, squeezing his supple ass. Stupid natural order shit. I tug on his hefty, limp dick, which begins to harden involuntarily at my provacation. This is mine. Fuck the natural order, not giving you up baby.

He wakes, disoriented in the Chrysalis. “Uh...I...What the fuck...” Panic sets in, as he feels my immobile flesh behind him and he tries to get his bearings to no avail. He keeps moving back and forth, trying to dislodge himself from the Chrysalis, from me, but it’s far too tight and too strong. I made sure of that. “Oh god, oh god...” he trails as he tries to rationalize the past events. I decide at that point to reveal my identity, faking the sounds of myself waking up before sleepily asking him “Kyle? Uh... w-what are you doing here? What are we doing? W-Where is this? Did you do this? Kyle? Kyle!” I’m a shitty actor but he seems to have bought it. I relish the moment when he sighs in relief at the realization that the naked form on his back was mine. I guess he trusts me. Cute, but you shouldn’t trust me, Kyle.  

“Oh thank god, dude I don’t know, I just woke up. I- uh- sorry, I’m gonna try to get us out of this thing,” He states as he wiggles to try to release us from my cocoon. And fuck did that feel good. 

“Mmmmm Kyle” I trail, as my dick starts to harden and poke at his ass. The wiggling does not helping him, as every movement gets me harder and pushes my dick further in him. 

“Oh! EW! Fuck! What the fuck man!” He shouts, before he realizes all this was turning me on. “Fuck dude stop!” he exclaims. 

“Why would I stop this, baby, we’re just getting started.” I give his back shoulder a quick lick. “I’m gonna make you feel like a new man”.

“Y-You! YOU! You did this! the Fuck! Get me out of here!!” He spat, only for it to rain back on to us through gravity. 

He squirms, trying to escape once more only to be met with the Chrysalis’ tight hold on our forms and my engorged cock. “Only one person can come out of this thing” I moan, as I start gyrating myself into him. “Get the fuck off me, Fag!” He screams in vain as parts of me already start connecting into him. The parts of his body connected to mine light up, like sparks dancing across mine. Euphoria. “There’s that soccer rage” I state seductively as I wrap my arms around his torso and abs and push us impossibly closer. “Suits you... suits...me”.

By this point, My body was halfway submerged into his and he finally starts to feel my nerves, my cells as his. With our shared senses, he feels my arms pushing us together as if his own self was doing the deed. “AHHHH OH MY GOD. Oh! nonononono” He exclaims in terror. He is reduced to incoherent babbling as he smells the suffocating concoction of his post-workout filth. The air is thick and brimming with pheromones. He is reduced to disgust, when he tastes the droplets in the air of our putrid selves locked inside my Chrysalis. Of course, in our connected state, I taste them too, only I love this taste. His taste. Our taste. I can only moan as I continue merging into him and my limbs and his are one. I feel my new biceps as I trace them around the new me. Tone. Nimble. Champion. And I feel my new, experience-tempered legs. Vascular. Virile. Powerful. I’m a goddamn athlete.

Animalistic, guttural sounds escape his mouth as the last of my torso and neck coalesce into his, and all that remains is my head, firmly planted to the back of his. I take a deep whiff of his now-drenched hair with our new, shared, workhorse lungs. “We’re so close, baby.”

Inserting myself into his mind was equally orgasmic. He screams at contact. The first plunge of my forehead tp the back of his was some useless frat shit. Whatever. I dig my head deeper into him and felt his years of soccer practice leak into me. More goodstuff. Then deeper still- and fond memories with friends, fond memories of school bleed into me. I plunge further and further in, taking in every piece of him I could, while he pants and winces at my insertion. His first kiss, grandfather’s funeral, deepest urges all MINE. Fuck. I pull back slightly, as I feel his him gently sob, before I push more myself deeper into his psyche. He screams at the injection of more of my memories and at the realization that this was a one way trip for both of us. “FUCK! FUCK! Stop Please! Too much! Too much!” I mentally sneer as I thrust even deeper into his mind, grabbing some more of him, and leaving more of myself. Childhood memories and feelings flood into my mind and I experience everything that has led to Kyle becoming Kyle. The feeling of winning my first game. The feeling I felt the first time I masturbated. More. Kyle’s deep love for Steph.

Damn, this guy was ready to pop the question and start a family with her-Not Anymore baby. You’re with me now, Kyle. I corrode this particular aspect of him with my own innermost desires. My perversions, the pure lust I felt in finally taking him. He laughs, moans at the lust he now had, before catching himself.

“Oh god what... doing... me!” he whimpers as his body convulses and drools. Our shared pupils dilate at the process as his body thrashes in futility. And yet, I press into him deeper still. Deeper and deeper inside until all but the very last of my old self is left. His deepest secrets, his dreams, self worth belong to me. He cries, mouth mumbling incoherently into a crescendo as I worm in that last bit my head into his and my own life become his. My old body’s childhood memories, My old thoughts, feelings, knowledge, secrets flood his. I give all of it to my new self, ingraining me in him, and cementing us together.

“AHHHH DAMN IT! Fuck Fuck! get-get the fuck out!” he screams as his hands start pulling on his hair, as his head shakes left and right trying to get the intrusion of my mind out of his. He recoils as I briefly take control. “No way dude, this [moan] oh god this is fucking great.” We continue panting, continue convulsing as his body is forced to accept me. “M-My name is Kyle, and I feel fucking good!” He shakes a bit more. “STOP-“ I cut in to force him to tell me “God I fucking love you inside me. Take me! Use me!” He begins gently sobbing, but I make him do it with a smile. “My name is Kyle and I’m a sick fuck who’s gonna cum inside and possess his closest friends”. I make us moan. 

Eventually, the seizing stops, and Kyle finds a moment of clarity. With my memories in him, He finds the release built into the Chrysalis and we emerge out of our slick cocoon as one. Sweat and cum trickle out as we come out a new man. A changed man. He walks to mirror in horror, checking himself to look for any wounds in his form. Instead he finds pulsing of my flesh-or what used to be my flesh-at various parts of his body beneath his skin. Abberant. Inhuman.

“Oh god oh god oh god this-this-this, this can’t be happening”. My new heart quickens as Kyle continues to panic. He tries to slap himself awake, but with each slap my control tightens and I make him moan in approval. He feels impossibly full with something-someone pulsing deep inside his skin, integrating. A natural violation of the highest order. He whimpers as he takes nervous, shaking hands all around him, feeling the intrusiveness of the eroticism I feel in being in him. The pulsing in him stops. “Keep going, baby [moan] fill me up. Make me you,” I force him to tell me with a tone that oozed sex. A tone that was alien to his voice. “My name is Kyle and I love dick. I love dick because the man inside me, the man controlling my every action loves dick. And he’s never leaving me. I love that too, because he’s inside me, making me love that.”

“Kyle I’m giving you one last morsel choice before I take it all the way- I decide everything for us from now on” I state to my reflection in the mirror, giving it a slobbery kiss. “We got a cute ass...I’m sure we can snag a few more bodies to play with... I wanna get a little party going. You know, our teammates are pretty cute, aren’t they? Maybe we can stick some me inside them”. I make him lick his lips. “Your frat bros are pretty cute too [moan] you wanna be frat president? I can arrange that, once I make you put me inside them...I’m getting ahead of myself... Let’s start with one. Pick someone...someone we can take, can use, can fuck” I force his face into an out of place, lustful, deranged smile before returning control to him. “Stay the fuck away from my bros! I..... uh...sorry. S-Sorry for shouting. Just please-please! Get out!” he whimpers in desperation, before descending into more hysteric sobbing. Hysteric sobbing which becomes cute, unsettling giggling, which becomes a roaring laughter as I wrestle back control of my new meat-suit. I wipe his tears off my new face, giving it a quick taste before taking a tour of the new me. “You and I both know there is no going back. The old me? Doesn’t exist. I am You, now. This is your body doing these actions, your brain thinking these thoughts”.

A tremor begins from our extremities, limbs become numb as our shared nerves light up in stimulation. More internal sparks fly through us. This was it. Like an earthquake in my new body, a wave of new feelings wash over me, rocking me to my core. The world around us shook, as the final pieces of my physical self interlocks with his and two become one. 

I reach down to pleasure myself, before deciding instead to first push Kyle’s consciousness to the front so he can watch. This would be my first time in this body. Lets make it special. I do a quick reverse crunch, holding the position. Fucking easy in this body. And then pull the crunch close till the body starts to struggle “Arrgh Fuck! Stop!” he screams. I pull even further and he cries from the uncomfortable position I put us in. “This is mine now” I state with his voice, “I decide how far..[pant]..how far we go” And decide I do, as I pull us even further back, prompting another pained “FUCK” from Kyle. I line my growing hard on-our growing hard-on, up to our shared mouth. “Look.. look at what you can do” I moan as him, before letting his consciousness back in front, leaving only control of his face. He is in hysterics as I keep him locked in his position and continue breaking this new bod. 

“Look at what we’re capable of when I’m driving” I state in our shared mind. His head thrashes back and forth before I freeze it in place. I take brief control of just his plump lips and mouth, and position his thick dick inside. Fuck we taste good. Salty, with the smallest hint of bitterness. I continue, pumping head faster and faster, forcing my occupant to feel every motion. We make little noise beyond the soft smacking sounds as we continue. The feeling was fucking euphoria. Im sure he feels it too, since he’s been uncharacteristically quiet. I’ve seen him do his warmup stretches before. I knew what he was capable of- with just a little push from me. When he shoots, when I let him shoot, I keep our shared mouth firmly wrapped around our engorged dick, guzzling our creation greedily. This mouth cannot contain it all and a bit spill below. Even more dribbles out of as I slowly release our position. Wet cum spills and pools on our shared chest and abs. I smear it around like a lotion. 

I jump and stretch myself into straight standing abruptly, forcing a slight jolt of pain from previously contorting this new body in a way it never had to before. His blood rushes through me, through us, and I let out a sigh of relief and contentment in the afterglow of my possession. I lick my new self clean, exploring all of Kyle’s crevices, before I coat our mouth in my new seed for a taste and swallow the excess in one gulp. We taste Delicious. Kyle, you sexy, tasty fuck, I knew there was something different about you. That last stunt seemed to have satisfied him as he recedes into me. I am in a dreamy smile as I tap my head gently with my finger. “All me now”.

The alarm on Kyle’s phone-my phone rings suddenly. Oh Shit. Kyle-er I had a game in a few minutes. I head over to the field with a breeze behind me, to the sight of slight discomfort and subtle gagging from my teammates. Fuck that. Smell more of me motherfuckers. They smile with strained faces as we do some small warmups for the game. His teammates really were cute- I briefly consider possessing them right there in broad daylight. Fuck it, what can anyone fucking do? I’m Kyle. And when Kyle wants something, Kyle gets it. Still, I only came for a test drive, so I decide to postpone their fates.

The match was tense. My teammates were alright, sure. But Kyle? Me? I played his body like an expert- no movement wasted, every single action carefully considered and executed. It was my brain in here after all. Onlookers stared in awe as, almost inhumanly, I block everything that goes my way. Despite my brain’s expert calculation, his body also deserved to praise. His muscled legs gliding my form through the grass, effortlessly, the twisting his body at just the right spot for the most efficient block. This body following my every command, like I’ve owned it for years. The old me was not one for sports, but this? Working his musculature into these complex maneuvers? Straining his form to just the right amount to maximize performance? Bliss. I can see why some people like this shit. The more I move through him, the closer I felt. Despite my heavy panting at the end, I can’t help but feel energized. Being in him is invigorating. I could keep going at this for days and days- this was truly an athlete’s body. 

I do a little dance as, in the end, we squeeze a 1-0 victory. All thanks to me, of course. My teammates brace themselves slightly-likely from the deep, concentrated musk and gallons of sweat I was emanating- before they surround me in a group huddle. New and improved Kyle is kinky little shit though, so I grab and pull their sweaty bodies uncomfortably close, and then squeeze them to me even closer so they can leave with the scent of my sweat on them. They recoil at my actions, at my words, as the normally stoic Kyle gently coos “Great job, team”. They laugh nervously and try to pull away, but I keep them in the embrace just an awkward second too long, sniffing each of them and remarking them. One day, you’ll all be mine.

After the game, I return to our room and look at my sweaty, dirty self in the mirror. I take a whiff of the freshly filthy soccer game and  soccer team smells we impregnate our room with. I take a quick sniff of our shared armpits, deciding to forgo showering this bod. Exquisitely noxious. Not getting rid of this.

I called his girlfriend Steph to break up abruptly over phone, citing my “newfound” sudden onset homosexuality. She was upset, understandably, but supportive. Really, I had no issues with the girl, and in another life, we’d be best friends fawning over the same straight dude. But this was Kyle, new-Kyle, new-gay-Kyle-who-only-loves-possessed-dick. My Kyle. He was mine, and mine alone.

Having finished my short list of post-takeover errands, my new self was on the prowl for some new recruits, new bodies to take, to possess, to pleasure me. Since he never really gave me an answer to my question earlier, I search through the remnants of the Old Kyle in my mind, force them to give me the name of someone to to take. I smiled. In the echoes of my mind, one face, one name reverberated in my head.  

Red.

I start giggling in a cute tone, out of place coming out of jock Kyle before I break out into a full cackle. “Kyle, you sick, sick, fuck...Red? Big Bro Red? After all he’s done to try to bond with you? Sick, incestuous son of a bitch.” I let out a soft moan as I drag my new vascular hands all over myself, stopping at my new nipples to give them a slight tickle, and my eyes flutter. I give them a hard twist, whining in elation when his body delivers the sensations to me. The smells we’ve been emitting has been pungent, concentrated, putrid from that sweaty group hug earlier. “Traitorous, depraved fucks like me don’t deserve a shower” I make him say in dirty whispers.

Red was Kyle’s big bro at the frat, and someone I had only met once previously. Once was enough to leave an impression. Unlike cute, naturally introspective, reserved athlete Kyle, Big Bro Red was extroverted, artsy, and fucking hot. Apparently, he’s been trying to connect to Kyle ever since the two were paired. Well, Kyle’s under new management, and I planned to use every bit of their tenuous relationship to get Big Bro Red under that same management. This was going to be fun. 

I am stopped abruptly as my phone vibrates. “Hey, wanna grab a bite to eat?” I close my eyes in sweet satisfaction, lick my lips seductively and shift my mouth into a filthy smile when I catch the name of who it’s from:

Red. 

—————End—————

Took a bit of inspiration from some past stories I’ve read in writing this one. The story implies a continuation but I’m still a bit on the fence. Hope you liked it/ Happy New Year’s!

[stickynotestoletters]

May I request some more about those threesomes with Sal and Larry mentioned in your last SF post, bestie? Because I'm living for it.

of course bestie 😫🖐

Keep in mind I do like SalLarry a lot so if I say that they don’t “match up” It’s 'cause you’re in this universe which changes the relationship dynamic a lot, think of the Butterfly effect

og hcs here

Warnings: NSFW, top larry, switch sal, kinda turns into a poly dynamic a bit I’ll probably write a poly dynamic like that officially later

SalLarry x GN (Masc Body) Reader

I’m gonna start this off with Sal and Larry before

they had a great friendship even with them being fuckbuddies sometimes 

it just wouldn’t have worked out with this dynamic preference

Sal was always bottoming and even if he likes it more than topping he still wants to top sometimes

so he tries to convince Larry to let him top and Larry’s like “k, I mean, I’ll try it”

And so they prepped him up and it was okay but then Sal put it in and Larry just started to laugh-cry because it felt so weird

So the dynamic stayed

Then you came along and so Larry and Sal stopped for a while

They were both chill with it

fast forward to after senior year in the college house once you moved in with Sal

Where one night Larry came over with Sal to the house really drunk

I mean they were absolutely pounded by the time they got there

And they were horny as fuck

So they asked if you’d be down to fuck them both

And obviously, you fucking agreed

I mean you and Sal talk about it later because how could you not, but if Sal is proposing the idea you’re not saying no

Sal is possessive about you sometimes but Larry’s his best friend

So they lay you down on the bed and prep you

Sal’s different from how he usually is and it is not just cause of the alcohol

you realize he’s in one of his dominant moods

And not only is this exciting just because he never really feels like this in general it’s exciting because Larry’s here and he’s just as dominant as Sal is

So they end up taking you to pound town and you don’t end up stopping until the sun rises that morning

Sal was so different that day you agree to more threesomes just to feel him go that hard

Sal is a gentleman in bed whenever he can be with you

but something just happened that night and you wanna see it again

not to say Larry was bad, if anything he was one of the best you’ve had, besides Sal of course

Sal is almost always topping whenever your threesomes do become a regular occurrence

But when he does bottom, he’s letting you ride him while he’s taking Larry’s cock

Whenever Larry is the one fucking you, he’s so rough with it

 just not caring about if you get pleasure or not but how could you not with how good he’s hitting your prostate???

He’s going so fucking hard it’s making you cry

They like to put you in the middle, getting fucked so hard by Larry and hearing Sal, so fucked out, moaning about your cock

Larry, you’ve found, really likes to leave hickies

especially on your shoulders

he likes thigh fucking Sal sometimes and leaving hickies on his thighs as well

Larry prefers Doggystyle as well, it’s just so easy to pull Sal’s and your hips back onto his 

Larry doesn’t have the strongest libido but he’s strong regardless

like really strong

he’s just a naturally buff guy! And when he starts working out to help around with Lisa more god is he buff

sometimes, if you’re tired you agree to let them fuck

and the first time they did that you were in the room, just cause it doesn’t really bother you to hear people fucking it out

Also, cause you enjoy looking at Sal getting the fucking of his life

And you glance over so casually just in enough time to see Larry slamming Sal up against the wall, holds his legs up all the way to his chest at the juncture of his knees, and fucks him so fucking fast and hard

Sal’s crying out so much

gasping so pathetically and holding Larry by the neck, pulling his hair

So pathetic and so pretty for him

Larry’s saying all this dirty shit to him and Larry’s probably the best dirty talker you’ve ever heard

“God, pathetic little puppy, so good taking my cock” 

“That’s all your pretty little hole’s good for huh? Fucking?” 

And Sal’s crying out and you’re sitting there watching Larry’s arms flex and so you put down your homework cause that can wait

right now all you’re thinking about is getting fucked like Sal

So Larry ends up fucking both of you so well that day

Although you were responsible enough to be able to finish your homework anyway it was a lot

When Sal brings up kinks, cause although the sex is amazing he just feels like it could be just that little push more

Larry’s really into seeing you and Sal dress up for him

Not roleplay per se but just you in a cute little maid outfit and Sal fucking you is just so hot to him

Larry also likes creampies 

It’s just really hot to him and honestly, anything with cum is hot

He enjoys ropes and gags and most of the other kinks you propose but Larry’s a simple man

He’s good with everything except hurting you guys

He can get into degradation and all that but actually hurting you guys would not be his thing

The mornings after used to be really sad

Larry would feel bad like he was imposing on you two or something

So he would leave once the two of you fell asleep to go sleep in his own bed

He’d tried to act like it didn’t happen cause he felt like you two would be weird about it or get freaked out

despite how he looks he’s a sensitive guy

So you and Sal talk about it

You’re both fine with including him in your dynamic, but it really depends

So the night after you two invite him for a threesome and when he gets up to leave you two pull him back into the bed

You talk about it there

Larry says he loves the threesomes ”Who wouldn’t? haha” He just feels like he’s imposing and doesn’t really wanna get involved with something romantic at the time because he’s not ready

He’s still figuring himself out with life in general and all that so he’s not ready for something romantic with anybody, especially with his two best friends

You all come to agree that it’s not going to be an official thing unless Larry feels like it should be, you already love each other so you don’t want to mess up your friendship with this

So you spoil Larry, make him feel welcomed and included

And he does the same in return

At one point Larry tells you two he just can’t have romantic feelings for you two and you’re both okay with that

So, once Larry feels ready, he ends up getting a cute s/o and moving out

Sometimes you still have threesomes/foursomes

but it’s all smooth sailing from there

Okay, so this did end up with really implied poly dynamics at the end so I think I’ll make a different one where you all do end up together. But for now, I’m gonna clarify, the whole time you guys were fucking none of you had romantic relationships with each other (except you and Sal) so Larry just felt like he was imposing or y’all were taking pity or whatever so you guys just tried to conveyed that he was welcome. It wasn’t because of some stupid anxiety he had it was because you two genuinely enjoyed having him there.

 Anyway just request and I’ll be happy to write!

-Laika

[twsthellhole]

Athetically Inclined, a Jack Howl/Azul Ashengrotto Teen and Up Audiences Fanfic

Word Count: 2100+ 

Summary: Azul has always been the weakling kid. Tentacles or pair of feet, he's just not comfortable when it comes down to physical strength. And, honestly, with a brain as great as his, why waste his precious time working out? However, after his overblot, his therapist suggests physical exercise as a treatment.

Jack Howl helps him out.

Warnings: None, although the boys do get sweaty! 

A/N: I laughed so hard when I saw there’s not a single fic for this relationship on AO3, but I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted them to WORK OUT together!!! Jack has a lot he can teach Azul :) Talk about self indulgence... Anyways, you can read it under the cut or on my AO3. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37437121

Azul considered the whole thing to be very stupid and a waste of time, but it’s either that or getting scolded by his therapist again. 

Honestly, he thinks, what’s the deal with physical exercise? If one can train their brain and their magic, why waste any time running around? Weightlifting? What, like some caveman? Flying? Flying?! What is this? He is the housewarden of Octavinelle and the owner of the respectable Mostro Lounge, not some sweat-loving freak.

And most certainly not a bird, so the flying thing is simply not going to happen. 

Nevertheless, despite all his hatred for mindless energy-wasting, Azul drags his feet to Vargas’ office and awkwardly tells the PE teacher that the school therapist recommended a special workout routine for him. It’s something to do with endurance building, special exercises meant to stimulate the production of serotonin. Vargas glances down at the paper Azul handed him and frowns slightly. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Ashengrotto, your physical constitution is shameful,” says Vargas after a second. 

“Is that so...” he barely conceals an eye-roll. Of course, his constitution is shameful. He was never athletically inclined when he was still propelling himself around in the water and there was no reason for that to change now that he’s got a pair of human legs. He took his sweet time learning how to walk, and even though Azul prefers walking around than swimming with his tentacles, running and jumping and climbing are still a big no-no. “So, perhaps you could write a letter to my therapist explaining that I should be excused from further physical activities?”

Vargas snorts at how hopeful the housewarden sounded.

“Not going to happen, unfortunately. You’re one of the big-brained kids, aren’t you? If you don’t keep your body strong, that brain of yours will wilt as well! You’ll get weak and wilted like a dry flower!” The teacher claps his hand on top of Azul’s shoulders, making his knees buckle. “And you don’t wanna lose any other limbs, right?”

Azul merely stares at him, not knowing what to say to that. He had already lost quite a few limbs and they were not being missed at the moment. But what would a regular human know about that?  He sighs and adjusts his glasses. No way he was getting out of that mess…

Before he could say something else, Vargas surprises him.

“Luckily for you, my boy, I have the perfect solution. I can’t supervise you out of class, but I do know of someone who’ll be able to teach you a thing or two about endurance and how to care for your body.”

“You won’t be assisting me?!”

“I can’t fit a single student’s needs in my schedule. Otherwise, the entire school will want a piece of me to themselves, and we can’t have that!” he chuckled. Azul felt the urge to roll his eyes again. “But don’t worry, you’ll be well cared for.”

  •

 Vargas’ solution ended up being that buff Savanaclaw first year.

Azul is as uncomfortable as ever inside of his PE clothing, standing near the field they used for flying practice. The disgruntled expression on his face was caused not only because he didn’t want to be there, but because he slept very poorly during the previous night. Tossing and turning and dreading the following day. He was considering ditching the entire thing and coming up with an excuse, or even better, making Jade come up with an excuse for him.

The chance to ditch the activity and crawl back into Octavinelle passes when Jack Howl arrives. He is very impressive, even taller than Jade and Floyd, and Azul immediately feels tiny next to him. The memory of him working at Mostro Lounge pops into his head; Jack had been excellent as a waiter, being able to carry multiple plates at once, if one could ignore his constant scowl.

Now, dressed in his PE uniform, Azul notices the bulging muscles on his exposed arms.  

“Good afternoon, Azul Ashengrotto.”

Azul nods, appreciating his politeness “Good afternoon.”

“Professor Vargas told me your situation… I have done some research and adapted some exercises that I think will help.” He clears his throat, placing his hands on his hips. A tiny smile spears on his lips. “I have been training with other students, and some of them are much smaller than you!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ah…” Jack scratches his neck. “Just that I believe you’re going to do well, despite the absence of muscle mass.”

Azul blinks slowly at him.

What is this sympathy? He feels his cheeks warming up; he doesn’t like that patronizing sympathy, but for some reason, the overall countenance of Jack Howl doesn’t seem to be judging him for his weak physical state. Azul’s light blue eyes catch sight of Jack’s ears flicking from side to side.

Oh, well… here goes nothing. He sighs again.

“Very well… what are we going to begin with? Running laps?”

“Ah, no, that’s not a good start.”

“But that’s what we start with during PE class.”

“Professor Vargas is assuming that everyone is at the same level during class and that’s just not true.” At Azul’s offended frown, Jack stutters. “B-but that’s not a bad thing! I think he should’ve considered your status as a merman and realized that you ought to start somewhere else. And, honestly, I think everyone would benefit from this kind of exercise.”

“Okay…” he considers. “What is it, then?”

“Stretching!”

“Stretching? That’s it?”

Jack frowns at Azul’s doubtful tone “Don’t doubt the efficiency of stretching, Mr. Ashengrotto. Let’s begin, then!”

Azul isn’t sure about that, but Jack Howl is just what Professor Vargas promised: efficient, patient, and excited about it. The poor thing actually enjoys the trials and tribulations of exercising; Azul can see how his tail wags every time he gets the movement correct.

 It begins with some spine stretching. Azul places his feet firmly on the ground, a couple of inches apart, and leans forwards until his hands are reaching for the ground. Jack places a warm hand on his back and forces him down a bit more, gently at first, and Azul releases quick puffs of breath through his nose.

“Breath through your mouth… slow, yes, keep the air inside for a bit, and then release it. Every time you release your breath, try to reach further…”

“I can’t go any further than that…”

His fingers were still a couple of inches from touching the grass.

“That’s good, the more you do this stretching, the further you’ll be able to go… and don’t talk. Focus on your breathing pattern. Good. Now, uncurl your spine back up, slowly so you don’t get dizzy.”

After that, if Azul had any hopes of keeping his uniform in a presentable state, Jack destroyed them when he told Azul to lay on the grass.

“On the grass…? Shouldn’t we have training mats or something?”

“No. If you do it directly on the grass, you’ll be able to feel the energy that comes from the Earth and that will help you. Come on, Ashengrotto, you can shower later.”

Muttering under his breath, Azul obeys. It’s not like he has any other choice and arguing with Jack would only make the whole thing longer. Thigh and leg exercises, abdominals, spine stretches again, raising and lowering his hips in some of the most embarrassing movements he’s ever made in public. Thank the Sea Witch we’re alone in this field, he thinks in a flustered flush. Jack doesn’t seem to be embarrassed that Azul was repeatedly thrusting his hips into the air.

Azul curses himself and clears his dirty mind, focusing on his breath and in the dull yet warm pain building inside his belly.

It doesn’t take long before Azul is feeling the general stickiness of sweat covering his body. Jack is glistening slightly as well, but while Azul looks like a damp fish, he looks… weirdly hot in that golden glaze complexion of his.  

“Now we can run a few laps,” said Jack, offering his hand and pulling the housewarden back on his feet. Jack chuckles at him, pawning his back to remove the loose strands of grass.

“Laps… in the plural…”

“Five of them, what about it? It’s a good number for the first day.”

“Five? What about two? Two is… still plural” he pleads, certain that five is too much. What if he fucking faints? It’s already embarrassing enough that he must come back to his dorm looking like a slimy fish… if Jack bursts into Octavinelle carrying a passed-out housewarden bridal-style, Azul will probably overblot again.

“No, Azul, you can do it. Come on, let’s roll. I’ll be right by your side.”

Azul is surprised to see that… it isn’t as painfully infuriating as usual. After spending forty minutes stretching and preparing himself up, running isn’t that tiring. Even the sun, shining bright above their heads is comforting and encouraging. Every now and then, Jack mutters something to remind him of his breathing.

During the second lap, Azul starts feeling it.

His therapist mentioned how, once you really get into exercising, you can feel the euphoria building inside his body. Azul doubted her, but now he can see what she meant. There’s a wet feeling building inside, a comforting feeling that cradles his belly and his legs. He can also feel the muscular pain, feels a little tired, but the wet feeling of compensation inside him is enough to keep him satisfied.

There’s excitement and vigor.

Now drenched in sweat, Azul is determined to get through all the five laps Jack suggested in the beginning.

The sounds of their quick footsteps are calming. He can hear Jack’s breathing, the small sounds he makes, even the warmth emanating from his body, hot enough for Azul to feel it even when they’re not touching. It compels him. Encourages him to do better.

When they finally stop, Azul nearly collapses to the ground. Jack gasps and holds him in place, helping to stabilize his frame. Azul swallows and, to their surprise, lets out a giggle. There’s just so much energy burning inside of his body! It feels really good.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m… my knees are shaking.”

“Uh… I might’ve exaggerated, then” mutters Jack, scratching his neck.

“No, no… I am… feeling surprisingly good. I… ah, let me catch my breath.”

They stand still for a while. When Azul feels steady enough, Jack lets go of him.

“I’m good, thank you. This was… interesting. I usually hate running, but I assume all this stretching prepared me for what was to come.”

Jack nods in relief “Yes, one of the great mistakes in PE classes is that the stretching is never enough. If you’re not naturally athletically inclined, that lack of prepping can make exercising much harder. If you follow this routine… let’s begin with thrice a week, you’ll feel much better with time.”

“I suppose so…”

Azul bites the inside of his cheek, considering. He does not have all the time in the world to waste… no, spend, on something such as that. He’ll have to make changes to his schedule, and perhaps dump his extra work on Jade’s back, if he wants to take this exercise thing seriously.

“Well… I will see you again on Friday, then? Is that okay?” Azul questions.

Jack smiles at him, nodding. “Count on that.”

They walk back in comfortable silence. A few heads turn when they make their way to the Hall of Mirrors. They are a very unexpected duo, after all, and Azul knows that people in this cursed school love to gossip. However, he spares no one his attention. After saying goodbye to Jack, and thanking him again, Azul heads to Octavinelle.

Both Jade and Floyd come flocking towards him like two seagulls hunting for chips in the beach’s sand. Floyd makes some funny commentary about how sweaty Azul is.

“It’s almost as if he’s already seasoned for the frying pan~!”

“Floyd, stop with these jokes, you’ll eventually convince me that you intend to eat me for real…”

“I might want just that~!”

Jade rolls his eyes at his brother and turns to glance at Azul. He hums to himself after doing a full body check on his housewarden.

“Is everything alright, Azul? He didn’t excessively tire you out, did he?”

“Perfectly acceptable” is all he’s going to say. He doesn’t want to tell them, at least not yet, how much he enjoyed exercising with Jack Howl. “I will take a shower… Jade, you’re responsible for the restaurant today, I’ll take the night off.”

Leaving behind the surprised morays, Azul goes to his bedroom.

He’s extremely satisfied.

Later that night, he dreams of sunny days and green fields and wakes up feeling rested and warm. That’s the best he felt in ages! Azul is looking forward to seeing what else Jack has in store.

[juice-plums]

Bug X Reader: Big Man Oh Man

(smutty!!)

Y/n was having troubles with her motorcycle she couldn’t get it to start working which made her late to work her friend suggested a guy that will get the job done Y/n reluctantly agrees and called the number

His name is Bug and he’ll be right over his words not hers he ended the call before she could get a say

Y/n rested on her couch waiting for the man to knock on her door watching tv a man perusing a woman because he fixed her door

*Ding Dong*

Her doorbell went off she got on her feet and scattered to the door opening it

A tall buff man standing there staring straight down at Y/n She yelps

“Umm are you-“

“Bug”

“Right,Right this way let me show you I’m Y/n” She says leaving the door open for him and directing Bug to her motorcycle his boots stomping down on her floor following

She went into her garage and to her motorcycle

“You see I bought this thing two years ago right and when I tried to start it up this morning” she puts her key in “and twist it wouldn’t work” She explained stepping on the gas

Bug Grunts

she gets off and goes to his side clenching her robe He sets down his toolbox and starts to get to work she peaks over his shoulder earning a sharp head turn and glare making her back up and go back to her living room

Y/n wasn’t scared or anything she just gets turned on by bigger men like literally Bug could take her anywhere in her house and go to town on her She tied her robe tightly and shakes her head getting rid of her dirty desires

She made some lemonade and poured some in a Glass for Bug she went back into her garage

“Would you like some lemonade?” She asks walking towards him Bug was using a screwdriver he turns his head to Y/n taking the glass and drinking it vastly

“Thank you…” Was all he said before going back to her motorcycle She smiled to herself and went back to the kitchen Bug peaked at her as she walked away

Y/n sat on her couch and went back to the movie she was watching

After what seemed like forever

Bug came out of the garage to her living room he was covered in motor oil,sweat and dirt she stood up not noticing her cleavage exposed like a ton

“Motorcycle Is finished I will take payment-“

“Okay Let me get my purse” She scatter to her room to find her purse Bug follows her looking her ass in the air looking under bed he blushes coughing

She pulls out 1000 dollars

“Here will you need 1000 or 2000?” she asks going up to him having the money in cash no less He blushes again

“You didn’t let Bug finish…You can pay in cash or You can lend me your body and we will call it even”

Y/n instantly heats up hearing his offer she barely knew this guy but he was hot in a biker way he was loud and possibly rude so maybe…

“Y-Yes If you want to” Y/n pulls her head away hearing him laughing he quickly undoes her robe pulling it apart her boobs popping out She gasps feeling his cold,Dirty gloved hands on her body Bug takes the money from her hand and takes the bills rubbing it all over her body and chest

“You are so nice to look at” he complemented she hums looking down Bug grabs her face making Y/n look at him

“I’m gonna enjoy this” He smirks bringing her face in for a sloppy make out session Bug slips his tongue in her mouth she loves her face being stuffed with his hot,wet,huge tongue

“Move to the couch I’m gonna devour your pussy” Bug whispers making her go to the couch instantly she fully takes off her robe and spreads her legs ready Bug gets on his knees so he’s facing her pussy he was still bigger though She bit her lips Feeing his breath near her clit

Bug presses his tongue against the bud of her clit She sweetly hisses pinching her nipples tingles run through her body and her eyes were half lidded with lust now Bug began to slurp and flick his tongue making Y/n feel all sexy with her legs up he was very good at this with his big hands on her thighs stuffing his face with her pussy he loved hearing her moans her bucking up to grind on his tongue

“Oh Bug!~” she moans blissfully messing with his cap and hair her body glistening she going crazy But Bug stops Y/n whines her hands traveling down to her clit

“w-w-why you stop” she cries her orgasm going away using her hands wasn’t the same

“Because I want you to cum from my Penis not my mouth” He said getting up and dropping his jeans and boxers exposing his Thick and Veiny penis She yelps covering her chest with her arms watching his monster wiggle

“I think I lubricated you enough baby so it should be easy and pain-free” Bug reassures sitting down on the couch and picking her up and faced her body away so he could only see her ass Bug pulls her ass apart and slowly slid his dick into her hole

“Gahh!~” She screams laying back into his stomach he was halfway in her and she was screaming a ton Bug grabs her sides after he gives her a few kisses on her head Then he bounced her up and down

“Bu-Bu-Bu-g!~ Yo-Yo-Yo-u’re go-go-go-ing S-s-so F-F-F-F-AST” she exclaims her broken speech indicated she couldn’t talk without stuttering there was a lump showing coming out of her stomach as Bug pounding into her Y/n’s tongue out like a dog he loudly whoops

“YEAH YOU LIKE THAT YOU BIG FUCKING SLUT YOU LIKE FUCKING YOUR MECHANIC!?” Bug yells

“Y-Y-Y-Yes I-I-I D-Do I-I-I’m a-a-a s-s-s-lut f-f-for m-m-m-y m-m-m-mechanic! OOH BUG!~” she blissfully yells Bug raises her legs in the air and starts to deathly pound into her Y/n helpless as she is put in a headlock only to enjoy the pleasure

after some time with moaning,groaning,yells and curses Bug loudly strains Pumping into Y/n a few more before climaxing into her womb Y/n groans feeling Bug cums inside her Y/n had also squirted and had gotten some on her rug

The pant loudly and tiredly Bug pulls Y/n off She tiredly hums as he puts her on the couch She lays there as Bug got dressed

“I have to go Darling I will see you later” Bug says kissing her forehead they stare at each other and Y/n starts to devour his mouth Bug gives the same energy and kisses back

“I will call you later” she says laying back Bug nods exiting the premises Y/n smiles to herself she still naked waiting to call Bug.

[gukyi]

if i told you | jjk

summary: in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him.

{friends to lovers!au, college!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, angst, we’ve got it all folks word count: 22k warnings: slightly underage alcohol consumption, mention of words that could be spoken on an crime documentary series but nothing graphic, ravioli-stealing, idiots to lovers, as per usual a/n: finally! here is the long awaited jungkook fic that i have literally been slaving over since the beginning of january. was this fic supposed to be 10k? yes. did i somehow end up writing 22k anyway? of course! in any case, please enjoy my absolute baby who i love and cherish!

check out the post-script drabble here!

Jeon Jungkook loses his job at the university call center on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year. 

You know this because on the seventeenth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 2:07PM, seven minutes after he normally starts his job at the university call center. 

He’s lucky that you’re the only one who doesn’t have class in the 2PM hour. 

“Y/N!” He shouts through the thin wooden door, his voice probably echoing down the thin hallway of your apartment complex. 

You open it before the second knock—you only rush to the door to get him to shut the fuck up, and not because you’re excited to see him, you swear—to see him standing on the other side, XXL university hoodie draped over his figure, down to his mid-thigh, baggy hood pulled over his head like a sad college-aged Star Wars character. He looks exactly like a jaded sophomore year college student would. He is beautiful. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the call center right now?” You ask in lieu of a normal “hello” or even a “what the fuck are you doing here, it’s 2PM”. Jungkook does not wait for you to invite him inside your apartment, immediately kicks off his shoes by the entrance and tugs on your apartment slippers that are a size-and-a-half too small for his feet, and marches over to your shared fridge to fish through the tupperware containers with your name written on Post-it notes for a mid-afternoon snack. 

Jungkook waits until he’s got an entire piece of frozen supersized ravioli shoved into his mouth before he responds. “I was fired,” he says over a mouthful of pasta and cheese.

“What?” You ask, eyes widening as Jungkook shuffles through your kitchen drawers for a fork, which means that the first piece of ravioli that he ate he did so with his bare ass hands. Like a heathen. Like a ravioli-craving twenty-year-old heathen. 

“I was fired,” Jungkook repeats. He stares at the microwave resting on your kitchen counter for a good ten seconds before he continues to eat the cold, unheated pasta. Every time he’s in your apartment (which is frequently), he tells you how it’s a fire, water, and explosive hazard to have your microwave on the counter like that. As if there is any other place in your apartment for it to go. Maybe out on the tiny balcony you have that overlooks the busiest street on campus. 

“Care to offer an explanation as to why?” You ask, coming up next to him. Jungkook is nearly finished with your tupperware of ravioli, and normally you’d shout at him for it, but seeing as he was just fired from his only source of income as a money-starved college student, you’ll cut him some slack. Just a little. 

“You remember that old, angry alumnus that told me that asking for donations in order to benefit low-income-slash-first generation students was selfish and rude of me, and that I wouldn’t be in college if it weren’t for what his generation accomplished?” Jungkook asks. 

You remember that vividly. Jungkook spent an approximate two hours and thirty-seven minutes on FaceTime with you ranting about this one “old man bitch” who he had to speak to during his day at work, all while you did your economics problem set to the sweet, mellifluous sound of Jungkook’s shrill shrieks. 

“The one you lost your temper at and shouted at for being ungrateful and elitist?” You ask pointedly. You have a feeling you already know where this conversation is going. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes. He finishes the ravioli (goddamnit, now you’re going to have to find something else to eat for dinner at 11PM tonight) and turns around to place it in the sink. For once, it is not piled high with dishes from up to a week ago, so Jungkook even squirts a bit of Dawn onto a sponge and washes the plastic container for you. “Well, as it turns out, telling an old racist elitist that he’s old, racist, and elitist does not go down well with my boss.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” you muse. Jungkook sighs, walking over to where you’re taking it easy on the couch. “Oh no,” you say, eyes widening as he grins, plotting something. “Do not, Jungkook. Jungkook, do not!”

He jumps, catapulting himself onto the couch and landing on top of you with a thud. You let out a groan as the weight of his body hits you, foreheads nearly knocking into each other. Jungkook is a good foot-and-a-half too long for this dinky leather couch that’s always sort of smelled, feet and ankles hanging off the opposing arm rest just so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your shoulder like he always does. You hate when he does this. Hate when he jumps onto the couch while you’re casually reclining just so he can collapse on top of you. Hate the feeling of his body resting against yours, soft breathes against the skin of your neck. Hate how it always makes you want more, how it will never be enough. 

“Have you been working out?” You mumble against the fabric of his t-shirt. “You’re more muscle-y than usual.”

“I added weights to my routine,” Jungkook tells you mindlessly. If your roommates walked into your apartment right now and saw the both of you on the couch, you’d never hear the end of it. “Taehyung said it would make me more swole.”

“As if you need to be any more buff,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Jungkook’s the most athletic person you’ve ever met in your entire life. He could probably pick up your dinky couch with you sitting on it without batting an eyelash. Even Superman would tremble at the sight of him. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jungkook mutters into your skin. “God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? I need money to pay for everything in my life and my one source of income is now totally invalid because an old guy got what he deserved.”

“Are there any work-study positions still available?” You ask, hand reaching up to stroke at his hair, smoothing it down. Jungkook’s preferred cuddling position is big spoon, but he still demands that he be coddled as though he were the little spoon. 

“No,” Jungkook says with a huff, “they’ve all been snagged by try-hard freshmen who need money like me.”

“I distinctly recall you being a try-hard freshman who also needed money,” you tell him. “That’s why you applied to work at the call center, isn’t it?”

Jungkook sits up, the weight of his figure crushing your legs as he rests on top of them. If you stayed like this forever, you’d probably lose feeling in your lower body, but you’d also get to stay with Jungkook forever, which is a trade-off you would genuinely consider. “Yeah, but the call center hires everybody. You just need to be like… decent at communication. And I’m pretty decent at communication.”

“You never text me back,” you tell him pointedly. 

“That’s because I prefer showing up unannounced at your apartment or other places you frequent,” Jungkook reminds you excitedly. He’ll never let you forget about the time you were wrapping up a small seminar with your history professor and Jungkook burst through the doors with a whole thing of carrots and hummus because you had texted him that you were hungry. You could not look your history professor in the eye for the rest of the semester. “I’d say that’s pretty decent communication.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure out another way to market your decent communication skills to get another job,” you tell him. “Have you considered the boba place on Oak? You could get me employee discounts.”

Jungkook leans over just to pinch at your cheek, fingers gripping onto your face and pulling like a grandmother. “You just want me for my money.”

“You’re my best friend, Jeon Jungkook,” you tell him. “Of course I do.”

This is what Jeon Jungkook’s obligatory university Facebook group introduction post read:

Hi, I’m Jungkook and I’m thinking of majoring in visual studies or computer science (really different lol I know)! I played soccer in high school but don’t think I’ll be continuing in college because I was pretty bad at it. I’m looking for a roommate and I’d really like to live in New East House, but anything works for me as long as it has a bed. Hit me up if you think we’d made a good match, but I like talking with everyone lol. 

I’m really into music and can play the guitar, drums, and piano. I like listening to all types of music (yes, even country which slaps kinda hard sometimes) but my favorites are The 1975, Frank Ocean, Troye Sivan, and Khalid. Will bop to Justin Bieber on occasion as well. 

I play Ultimate and am really interested in joining the club team here so hit me up and we can practice sometime because my skills are a little rusty. I also do a little skateboarding but I am definitely not a skater. 

Hit me up if you think we can be friends lol I’m excited to meet you all!

It was accompanied by several pictures, a couple of which are selfies at that anime girl angle, one of him with his friends at prom all doing that Frat Boy pose, and a couple of him with his family. To an outsider doing a very quick glance, it pretty much reads the same as a rather extensive dating profile. 

The truth of it all is, as you were scrolling through the hundreds of obligatory university Facebook group introduction posts in search of a freshman year roommate, you stumbled upon Jungkook’s intro post and you thought this: No. Way.

The moment you laid eyes on his first above-the-head angle selfie, you knew that it would be unlikely that you and Jeon Jungkook’s paths would ever cross. He played guitar and did Ultimate Frisbee, and you wanted to audition for your university’s symphony orchestra. He was beautiful but in that sort of college frat boy who can crush you at beer pong kind of way. Craziest of all, he was a computer science major, and you were walking in as an undecided humanities concentration. 

Impossible. There was no way the two of you would ever meet, and you accepted that right off that bat. At a school your size, you would go through these four years not knowing a majority of your class. Jeon Jungkook was just one of the casualties. 

On the very first day of orientation, Jeon Jungkook comes up to you on the sidewalk, wearing a white t-shirt, a backwards baseball cap, and shorts, and asks you if you’re here for orientation as well? He’s lost. 

Jeon Jungkook is the type of guy you imagine getting eaten up by any girl who meets him almost immediately. He’s charming and endearing the same way a baby deer is, but has no problem wearing clothes that remind you of how fit he is. He is, for lack of a better term, extremely good looking. 

“Yeah,” you had said on the sidewalk, squinting to look up at him since the sun was in your eyes. “I’m heading to the auditorium right now. Wanna walk with me?”

“Okay, sure,” Jungkook had replied, smiling with all of his teeth. Even in the sweaty summer heat, he looked even nicer in person. “Thanks, by the way. I’m Jungkook. What’s your name?”

You knew that already. How could you have forgotten? 

You had grinned up at him. The universe has always worked in mysterious ways. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

When Jungkook doesn’t know what to do, he stress eats. Most often, you are the single witness to this action, which has literally no effect on his body mass whatsoever since he immediately burns off every calorie (and then some) at his next gym session. 

That is precisely why you are sitting in the second-best dining hall on campus eating a pretty measly salad and french fries, while Jungkook returns from the serve-yourself cafeteria with his sixth plate of food. Next to you is your mutual friend Chaewon, a filthy rich international student from Korea who is probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. 

“I think I’ve called every cafe, bubble tea shop, clothing store, and paid internship within a five-mile radius of this place and nothing,” Jungkook says with a sigh, keeping Chaewon updated with his job-search antics. It’s been several days since he was fired, and while being keenly cognizant of your bank account isn’t necessarily a bad thing, when it means that Jungkook refuses to leave campus because he is in hyper-saving mode, it sort of rustles your jimmies. 

“Have you tried babysitting?” Chaewon supplies helpfully. 

You laugh aloud at the mere thought of Jungkook stuck in some middle-aged parent’s house with their toddler for hours on a night where he could be living it up on campus. Jeon Jungkook? A babysitter?

“Wow, what the heck is wrong with me being a babysitter?” Jungkook questions, offended. 

“First of all, you don’t even let me beat you in Mario Kart on your Switch and I am your best friend. If you ended up gaming with a four-year-old boy, your over-competitiveness would take over you and you’d crush the poor kid and his spirit,” you remind him pointedly. Not to mention the fact that the man cannot cook to save his life, and you can’t even entrust him with microwave dinners because of his irrational fear of modern oven technology. 

Jungkook pouts. He knows you’re right. 

“It’s not like you were going to look into babysitting, anyway,” you say with a shove, nudging his shoulder with your own. 

Jungkook sighs, and despite all of the shit you give him on a daily basis (part of the responsibility of being his best friend), you do genuinely feel bad for him. Even if his job at the call center wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating nor morally rewarding, he didn’t absolutely hate it and he made a pretty decent earning off of it. He unzips his backpack and fumbles for his laptop, opening it up to reveal a Google Chrome window with approximately thirty-seven tabs open of places to work on and around campus. Meanwhile, Chaewon’s phone buzzes on the table, and she heaves out a great, exasperated exhale before picking up and immediately launching off into incredibly speedy Korean. 

“If only the bubble tea place was hiring,” you lament, kissing goodbye all of the free bubble tea you had been dreaming about if Jungkook got hired. 

“I’m glad I don’t work at the bubble tea place,” Jungkook tells you with his eyebrows raised, “otherwise I’d have to see you every day!” 

“You already see me every day!” You should back, but it’s not like Jungkook doesn’t know that already. He’s the one always barging into your apartment or sitting down next to you in the library when you’re trying to study. 

“But maybe you should try drinking less bubble tea, otherwise you’re gonna blow up like a tapioca pearl like that one girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Jungkook warns, pinching your cheek as if to make your face round like a tapioca bubble. 

“I can think of nothing I’d want more than to be a tapioca pearl for the rest of my life,” you state simply. It would be much less stressful than to be a college student. 

“If you were a tapioca pearl, I’d eat you!” Jungkook says, and you, out of the security of both your head and your heart, choose not to think too much into it. 

As Jungkook teases you about your slight obsession with bubble tea, Chaewon finally puts the phone down after what very well was several minutes of angry Korean. She lets out this deep, long sigh, like all of the pent-up rage within her is exiting through her exhale. 

“You good, Chae?” You ask her, a little concerned. Even after knowing her since the beginning of your freshman year, you’ve never once seen her get mad, though she looks pretty close to it now. 

“Yeah,” she says, exasperated. “My mom is having this stupid company ball here and she really, really wants me to attend.” It is obvious that Chaewon does not, in fact, want to attend. You’ve seen Chaewon nearly every day for over a year, and you’ve never even seen her wear a pantsuit. You couldn’t imagine her joy at having to dress up in a ballgown. 

“But fancy free food,” you point out. Even if she does have to be trapped in a penthouse ballroom with her parents’ stuffy business friends, the catering company will probably be god-tier. 

Chaewon pretty much bangs her head on the dining hall table. 

“Wow, I didn’t know someone could hate catered food so much,” you say, a little alarmed. 

“It’s not that,” Chaewon says, rubbing her forehead. The pasta on the plate in front of her has remained untouched for nearly ten minutes now. You wonder if she’s even hungry anymore. “My mom wants me to bring a plus-one.”

Your eyes widen. An excuse to dress nice and eat good food? Hell yeah. 

“And it can’t be you, Y/N, it has to be a date,” Chaewon says. It’s pretty obvious she’s not interested in dating whatsoever, no matter the gender of the object of her affection. You pout. Damn. “My mom said, ‘he can be whoever you want!’ but that means that he has to be an attractive Korean guy who’s got a future job in finance.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jungkook says over a mouthful of broccoli. 

“You will?” Chaewon asks. Jungkook just single-handedly saved Chaewon from a night of unbearable business talk with a boy she doesn’t know and cannot relate to. 

You scoff. “You’re just a regular Korean dude, Jungkook,” you tell him. 

Jungkook pouts, bottom lip turned out. “You don’t think I’m attractive?”

You refuse to answer that question. You’re afraid of what you might say if you open your mouth. 

“Seriously, you’d do that for me?” Chaewon turns to Jungkook with platonic stars in her eyes. 

Jungkook shrugs. “Sure. I’ve got a suit. I’ll ask my friend Jimin for a crash course in finance before the thing. When is it?”

And just like that, you and Jungkook’s weekly Friday Mario Kart night gets a rain check. 

 Jeon Jungkook is the sole best decision of your life. 

And it’s funny and twisted and wonderful, because he is the one thing you had failed to account for in your life. He stands there on the sidewalk in the blazing sun, black baseball cap nestled safely onto his dark brown hair, and in the split second it takes for him to open his mouth and say hello, everything changes. 

But no longer is the image you conjure in your mind when you think of him a picture of him on that very first day of orientation, lost and excited all at once. It is of him barging into your apartment and eating all of your leftover ravioli. It’s him laying on your dinky couch like it belongs to him, surfing through all of the Netflix shows available and eventually just settling on old Gilmore Girls episodes like he always does. It’s him standing in your closet to judge your latest clothing purchases and take back any items that you’ve stolen from him over the years. 

It’s imagining him not as a guest but as a permanent fixture in your home, in the place that makes you feel safest. Because that’s who Jungkook is, now. He is that place. He stands in your apartment rattling off a list of why microwaves are a severely underestimated killer, and it takes every inch of your being not to ask him to stay. To spend night after night cuddling on the couch, or make a home-cooked meal together on a Sunday evening, or get lost underneath the sheets on your bed.

Jungkook stands in your apartment like he belongs there. And only in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine that coming true.

Such is the case of that Friday night, when he’s supposed to accompany Chaewon to her terrible, awful, brain-melting parents’ business gala. You haven’t seen him all day, too busy with your club meetings to make time for him after your classes are finished for the week. College is never-ending in that horrible, unstoppable way. 

It’s nearing two in the morning when you hear the knock on your door. Two of your roommates are at a rush event for their sorority, and the other sleeps through your smoke alarm on a regular basis, so you are tasked with the job of opening the door. 

On the other side is Jungkook, as he frequently is. 

Your heart practically freezes in place, like his eyes have shot right through it. Instead of his usual baggy outfit and a bucket hat, he’s standing outside of your apartment in a crisp navy suit (complete with a pocket square), rings lining his fingers and hair tousled in that effortlessly-styled kind of way. He looks like a goddamn celebrity, like a young, successful CEO. Like the love of your whole fucking life. 

Coughing to distract from the fact that you’re practically drooling, you say, “Wow, you clean up nicely.”

Jungkook looks down at himself, almost as if he had forgotten he’s wearing a full suit entirely. “The pocket square is Jimin’s,” he explains, “but yeah. I didn’t want to let Chaewon down by not dressing up to code.”

He’s got remnants of makeup left on his face, having faded and smudged throughout the night. There’s a bit of black underneath his eyes from the liner, a smoldering effect that makes the dark brown of his irises even deeper. “You look tired,” you comment. “Why are you here, why don’t you go home, Jungkook? Get some sleep.”

Jungkook shrugs, looking over your shoulder to see if his arrival has woken up any of your roommates. “Your place was closer,” he says like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t make your breath catch in your throat, stop in its tracks. He spends an evening dressed up in a stuffy suit and tie surrounded by old businessmen and their preppy daughters with whom he has nothing in common, and when it’s nearly two in the morning and he can finally relax, he drives to your place instead of his own. Like it means nothing. As if it means anything at all. 

Jungkook runs a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and even knotted and messy it still looks flawless. “If I’m bothering you, just let me know. I know it’s late.”

It’s so hard to say no to him. 

“Just come inside already before you wake up the neighbors,” you tell him, sighing to pretend like it’s a minor inconvenience. And even running on barely any sleep with makeup smudged underneath his eyes, Jungkook grins as you let him inside your apartment, caving in, just like you always do. 

The first thing he does when he’s inside is take off his fancy loafers and peel off his suit jacket, resting it against the back of the couch. You fumble around in the kitchen for the kettle, instinctively starting to make two cups of tea. Routine. 

Looking up, you watch as Jungkook loosens his tie and takes it off, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt. By the counter, you turn your back to him so he doesn’t see you mentally combust. It’s impossible that he doesn’t already know what he does to you. 

The kettle finishes boiling the moment Jungkook settles onto your couch. He keeps the television off so he doesn’t wake your roommates, and scrolls on his phone with his knees tucked underneath his chin. Thirty seconds later, you’re joining him, handing him the cup of tea before sitting down next to him, severely underdressed in comparison. 

“Did you at least have fun tonight?” You ask. 

“The food totally slapped,” Jungkook tells you. “Chaewon’s parents really pulled out all the stops.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse. 

“We spent most of the time lounging by the catering table and distracting each other by making up stories about all of the rich people there.” Jungkook laughs. 

“Please tell me you didn’t embarrass yourself, though,” you say. Perhaps Jungkook could withstand a few blows to his ego, but Chaewon’s future pretty much depends on her impressing her parents and their comrades. 

“No!” Jungkook tells you defensively. “Jimin told me everything I needed to know, but all of Chaewon’s friends and their filthy rich CEO parents thought I was so handsome that I didn’t even need to speak.”

You roll your eyes. Of course Jungkook wouldn’t give up the chance to remind you of his hellishly good looks. 

“You just stood there, looking pretty?” You ask. Not as if he doesn’t do that already. 

“You think I’m pretty?” Jungkook teases, a greasy smile sent your way, like he doesn’t know the answer anyway. 

You huff. “Dressed up like this? Anyone would.”

“Chaewon said I was like her fake trophy husband,” Jungkook jokes. “She did all of the schmoozing. It’s not like I could have contributed anything anyway. Unless everyone wants to hear about C++.”

“Ooh, I love it when you talk all tech to me,” you tease, nudging him with your arm. “So sexy, keep talking.”

He laughs. “If we keep talking about Python I might get a little too excited.” He wiggles his eyebrows just for good measure and you giggle, holding onto this moment for dear life as you let it etch itself into your brain permanently. Times like these, you know you can’t forget, saving them for a rainy day thirty years down the line when you’re in love with someone that’s not Jungkook. When you look out the window and think about what might have been, if only things back in college had been a little bit different. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes on the table. He’s got two notifications, one from Instagram of Chaewon tagging him in a post, and another from Venmo. 

“Fuckin’ damnit,” Jungkook swears, letting his phone drop on the couch cushion. 

“What?” You ask, turning to look at him. 

“Chaewon just Venmo’ed me a hundred dollars,” Jungkook says with a sigh. And it’s not one of those times when you see your bank account balance go up and get happy because yay, money!, it’s when your friend pays you anything over what they actually owe you out of the goodness of your heart, and you refuse to accept it. 

“She did?” You ask, eyes widening. A hundred dollars? That’s more than Jungkook would make in three shifts at the call center. 

“‘Thanks for bailing me out tonight. You definitely deserve more than 100 but then you’d be mad at me. But please don’t be mad at me!’” Jungkook reads off his phone. “I just stood there looking like eye candy. I didn’t do a thing to help her, what the heck?”

You pull out your own phone to check Chaewon’s latest post. 

It’s a picture of them together in the skyscraper penthouse the gala was held in, Jungkook looking dapper in his suit with a glass of champagne in his hand, and Chaewon in a dress worth more than a semester’s tuition throwing up a peace sign like the trendy Asian she is. They look like a K-drama couple. Like two celebrities basking in their fame and wealth. 

Shoutout to my one and only Jeon Jungkook for being my fake date tonight! Thanks to your good looks and charming personality for impressing all of my parents’ rich friends and their daughters. Love you 3000 💕

“Wow, whoever took this picture of the both of you knows their shit,” you say, impressed. You had always thought it impossible for Jungkook to look better in pictures than in real life, but this photo is coming rather close. If you were any more shameless, you’d ask Chaewon if she has any more photos of him. Just him, preferably. 

It’s not as if she doesn’t know about your gargantuan crush on him anyway. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever looked that good in a photo in my life,” Jungkook says with a laugh. Impossible. He yawns, placing his empty mug on the little end table next to the couch. 

“You should set it as your profile picture,” you suggest, leaning your head on him and pretending like this is normal. He yawns again, stretching out as he rests his body against yours. “Hey, we should go to sleep. Unless you want to go home?”

Jungkook groans, snuggling in closer. “No, your bed is big enough for the two of us.”

And who are you to resist?

You wake up to the sound of a phone buzzing furiously on your bedside table. You crack open one eye just a sliver to see who the culprit is and immediately eradicate it, when the sun filtering through your Venetian blinds hits your cornea. You groan, shutting your eyes once more as you smack your hand around to get it to shut off. 

The movement, however, causes the bedsheets to shift beside you, and when you turn, you find Jungkook nestled up tightly beneath your duvet, an arm stretched over your side as he hums in his sleep. 

You’re best friends. 

This is normal. 

(The feeling of your heart beating out of its chest has become rather normal, as well.)

He’s wearing a raggedy old t-shirt of yours that has always been too big on you but fits him just perfectly and a pair of joggers that he keeps at your place “just in case”. Just in case he stays the night. Just in case you ever need them. Selfishly, you will yourself to fall back asleep, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that maybe, if you never wake up, this moment will freeze in time, locking the two of you together for eternity. 

He mumbles to himself in his sleep, a murmur of nothing as he shifts over slightly, hand dragging up your side. 

God. 

Next to you, the phone begins to buzz erratically again, and wide-awake, you look over to realize that it’s Jungkook’s, and that it’s Chaewon on the other end. 

This is at least the second time she’s called, which means that, despite how tempting it is, you probably shouldn’t silence his phone and go back to lying in bed with Jungkook and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist. 

Sighing, you pick up. 

“Jungkook!” Chaewon shouts on the other side. For a brief moment you wonder why on earth she’s so energetic so early, but it’s less that and more the fact that you are overwhelmingly lethargic rather late in the day. “All of my friends said you looked really good in those photos I posted of us. Do you think you’re free next Wednesday night? Seunghee wants you to accompany her to a double date her parents are forcing her to go on!”

“Chaewon—”

“Oh, Y/N! How’s it going?”

“I just woke up,” you mumble quietly as Jungkook stirs beside you. 

“Of course you did,” Chaewon says, and you can see her rolling her eyes on the other side of the line. “Wait, why do you have Jungkook’s phone if you just woke up? Oh my God, don’t tell me—”

“Shh!” You hiss into the phone. Jungkook is slowly beginning to wake up, and you can only pray that he isn’t listening in to the conversation between you and Chaewon. “No, we did not. He got back after your thing and we promptly passed out in my bed, fully clothed,” you whisper loudly. 

“Jungkook went to your place last night? He was so tired, I thought he was going straight back to his. We even got dropped off outside my apartment.”

What? Chaewon and Jungkook live within a three-minute walk of each other. Your apartment is ten minutes away from both of them. 

“You did?” You ask, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Who’s that?” 

You turn around to see Jungkook lying on his back, head resting on a nearly-deflated pillow of yours as he looks up at you, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His hair is mussed, some parts styled and stiff with hair gel, and some parts tangled and unkempt. He looks like he’s been lying in that position for a while, hand resting behind his head as he gazes up at you. 

“It’s Chaewon,” you tell him softly as she laughs on the other end. “She just called your phone. Are you free next Wednesday?”

“Hmm?” Jungkook, still half-asleep. “When?”

“Next Wednesday,” you repeat, a hand on the phone like it’s going to do anything to stop Chaewon from listening to you two. “Chaewon says she has a friend who wants you to accompany her to a double date she’s been set up to go on by her parents.”

“Mmmrph,” Jungkook mumbles. It’s clear he hasn’t even thought about his plans for the rest of the day, let alone next Wednesday. 

“He’s not available right now,” you say into the phone. Chaewon snorts. 

“Fine,” Chaewon says with a sigh. “Can you pass the message on when you guys are done pretending that you aren’t fucking behind my back?”

You suck in a breath. “Chaewon!” You hiss. “We are not—” you quickly turn back to Jungkook, who, by the looks of his hooded eyes and bewildered expression, isn’t listening in, “—fucking!” You whisper. “You know we’re not!”

Chaewon laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Call me later, Y/N, we should grab ice cream or something.” She hangs up. 

“Who was that?” Jungkook asks sleepily, eyes still half-lidded as he sits up in your bed, soft skin, brown hair, pouted lips amongst a sea of white, bundled up in your thick duvet as if sitting on a cloud. 

“Chaewon,” you tell him. 

“Oh, why was she calling?”

“She wanted to ask if you were free next Wednesday.”

“To do what?”

Maybe you were worried about Jungkook listening in to Chaewon grill you about your relationship (or serious lack thereof) for nothing. 

“She has a friend who wants you to go on a parent-mandated double date, trophy boyfriend style,” you explain. Jungkook groans. 

“Pretending to know business is mentally, physically, and morally draining. It feels like I’m selling my soul to capitalism,” he says with a sigh, collapsing back against the mattress. “I just wanna stay here forever. It’s so cozy.”

“Come on, Kook,” you say, tugging the duvet off of him to reveal the rest of his body. He curls into himself at the exposure, refusing to budge. “You’ve encroached on my apartment long enough.”

“Y/N,” Jungkook whines, drawing out your name for good measure. “Noooooooo.” He reaches out to cling onto your wrist, which means that if you want him out of your bed, you’ll have to drag him out.

“Jungkook, you’re swole, you know I can’t tug you out of my bed,” you say with a pout. He knows every trick in the book to use against you, and worst of all, he knows you’re weak to all of them. 

“Good,” Jungkook says with a loopy smile, pulling you back onto the bed like it’s nothing. You yelp as you come crashing on top of him, your body bumping into his as he wraps his arms around you and flops back onto your bed. You laugh and shout at the feeling as Jungkook cuddles up in the warmth of the sheets, pulling you in tightly to his body. “It’s so warm here, let’s stay like this forever.”

“What about food?”

“You keep a stash of Clif bars under your bed, we’ll eat those,” Jungkook suggests. 

You attempt to wriggle out of his grip, hoping to escape before he holds you long enough to get addicted, hooked on the feeling of his arms around you, his body against yours. But Jungkook is nothing if not persistent and clingy, and he wraps his arms tightly around your torso like a koala, warm and soft. “Come on, Jungkook. It’s nearly noon. Let’s be productive today.”

“Gross.”

“Let’s not sit in bed all day.”

“Grosser. Let’s just stay in your bed all day and pretend that we don’t have any real responsibilities.”

“Given that we’re in college, that may be slightly difficult.”

“Fuck that, your GPA doesn’t matter anyway. Unless you have plans on going to grad school?” He asks with an eyebrow raise, turning to look at you. 

“No way, I’m not paying for another four years of this shit,” you immediately declare. Let the capitalist system of higher education extort another two to four years worth of tuition out of you for the same degree? Absolutely not. 

“Then why move?” Jungkook says with a grin. 

“Because,” you say, stumbling for a real answer. 

“Not good enough.” He grins cheekily. “I vote to stay in bed.”

“I vote to do my readings, your CS homework, and get back to Chaewon about Wednesday.”

“God,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “What’s Wednesday?”

“Oh my God, you need to call Chaewon. Right now. Before you ask me what you have on Wednesday one more time after losing all of your brain cells lounging around in my personal bed and refusing to leave,” you say, eyes wide as you worm your way out of his grip, dusting yourself off and heading to your closet. 

“Noooooooo,” Jungkook says, reaching out a desperate hand. “Y/N, come back.”

“Call Chaewon. Call her!” You order, fishing around in your closet for some fresh clothes. You’ve been wearing the same one since Thursday night. You are disgusting. 

Jungkook groans but obeys, picking up his phone and pressing her contact. “Hey Chae, it’s Jungkook. Listen, I’m literally going to Venmo you back what you paid me because you? Literally didn’t need to pay me at all? And I’m actually mad at you for it? Wait, what do you mean am I up to getting paid on Wednesday—”

The phone call presents the perfect opportunity for you to dash out of your bedroom and into the bathroom, where you splash yourself with cold tap water like a model in a face wash commercial (who already has perfect skin, so why does she need this new face wash, seriously?) to clear your head. It’s been a weird twelve hours. Even weirder knowing that across the hall, Jungkook is sitting in your room, on your bed, in your clothes, under your bed sheets. Knowing that maybe, in another universe, on another timeline, you would be in the exact same positions, only everything would be different. 

You wash your face, hoping to wake yourself up. Convince your mind that the past twelve hours have been nothing but a dream, and that when you walk back into your room, Jungkook will have vanished. Or he would have never been there in the first place. 

You leave the bathroom and return to your bedroom to see Jungkook tugging on his suit jacket, wearing the same clothes he had on when he knocked on your door at 2AM last night. He’s still on the phone, wrapping up the conversation with Chaewon. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell her that I’m down. She can just text me, give her my number. I’m happy to do this for you and your friends, Chae. Plus, she’s gonna pay me and I feel less bad about it because it’s a service and she’s not a close friend like you are. Yeah, it’s all good,” he looks up to see you standing at the door, leaning against the frame. “Yeah, Y/N just got back so I’m gonna go. Maybe we can grab dinner or something tonight? Cool. Bye.”

“Dinner without me?” You ask with a pout. 

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. “You’re always invited.”

“Have you figured out what’s going on on Wednesday?” You tease him as you walk him to the door. 

“Chaewon has a friend, Soojin, who wants me to accompany her on a parent-mandated double date with a business partner’s daughter,” Jungkook explains. “Apparently all of Chaewon’s friends realized I make a pretty good fake trophy boyfriend.”

You rub his shoulder. He’d make a great real boyfriend too. Not that you think about that all of the time, or anything. “Gonna put that on your resume, big guy?”

“Of course.” Jungkook smiles. “Dinner tonight? We can go to the ramen place you really like.”

“Sure thing, is Chaewon coming?”

“If she wants to. Otherwise, it’ll just be us.”

“Sounds good,” you tell him. “See you then.”

“Hopefully before,” Jungkook says. “Thanks for letting me crash here last night, by the way.”

“Anytime,” you say. Maybe one day, it’ll be true. 

Next Wednesday, there’s a knock on your door at midnight. 

Who else could it be?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. And then it was supposed to be just a two-time thing. And before you knew it, Jungkook’s number and his services were circling through the ring of wealthy international students, jumping from phone to phone as people crammed to get him to accompany them on their next double date, next business gala, next ballroom dance. 

You had always had a feeling that his charming, charismatic personality would eventually draw everybody towards him, so electric and magnetic that you couldn’t help but want to know him, make friends with him, be close to him. From the moment you saw his Facebook introduction post, you knew it was only a matter of time before everyone on campus knew his name.

[October 17th, 4:12PM] You: do u want to get dinner tonight

Jungkook: would love to but have to go to kim family business dinner with dahyun sorry :(

You: ok next time then!

[October 23rd, 1:03PM]

You: yo what r u doing You: i have so many readings to do rip You: do u wanna come to greene w me and study

Jungkook: heejin is taking me shopping for a fancy suit for her family’s event tomorrow i can’t :/ Jungkook: but i am going to get macaroons for u at the mall so we can see each other later!

You: yummm sure thing!

[October 30th, 9:58AM]

You: hey ik you’re asleep rn but we are still on for tomorrow right? 🎃 You: can’t let our one (1) year long halloween tradition of buying last-minute candy and watching the nightmare before christmas together die

[October 30th, 11:13PM]

Jungkook: omg i just saw this now im so sorry Jungkook: uh yeonjoo wants me to go to her sister’s halloween party tm so idk if i can make it this year

[October 31st, 2:02AM]

You: ok You: thanks for telling me

It’s no fun watching The Nightmare Before Christmas by yourself, you realize this Halloween. All of your roommates are out frequenting one of the hundreds of parties being thrown on campus tonight, and although you’d normally be up for getting drunk and dropping it low, you just aren’t in the Halloween spirit this year. Wonder why. 

Armed with the knowledge that your roommates probably won’t be back until three or four in the morning, you shut your laptop and decide to go to bed early. Early being midnight, but it’s early for you and that’s all that really matters. 

You don’t know why you’re being such a stick in the mud this Halloween. It’s always been one of your favorite holidays, never one to pass up free candy nor the option to dress up, but this one has been particularly lame. You don’t have a costume, your local drugstore is out of mini Skittles packets, and you don’t have someone to spend it with. 

Realistically, you have no reason to be sad that Jungkook isn’t available tonight. It’s not as if spending Halloween together is some ancient tradition from birth that binds the two of you together. You did it for the first time as freshmen, and you were foolishly hoping to do the same thing as sophomores. It’s not a tradition if it only happened once. 

You look in the bathroom mirror, stained with nail polish and dry shampoo and old skincare, and you sigh. Jungkook has every right to prioritize his current and only source of income over a night spent lounging on the couch doing nothing. It’s not as if you haven’t seen your best friend in over a month and this was the only night you both had free. Jungkook drops by after every single event he goes on. Every single one. He stands outside your door dressed in a fancy suit, or a silk button down, leather shoes and expensive jewelry bought for him by the girls he goes out with.

No matter the time, he knocks on your door and says hello, steals a cup of tea and a bit of your heart along with it, before bouncing out of your living room and off to his own apartment. He doesn’t stay the night anymore, doesn’t worm his way underneath your duvet and refuse to move until morning comes. It’s hard to tell if you’re grateful about it or not. 

Sluggishly, you peel off your clothes and wash your face, changing into some old sweatpants from the tenth grade and a t-shirt with an embarrassingly large hole in the armpit. This Halloween, you are dressing up as a lonely college student who is going to bed early on Halloween night because she has nothing better to do!

There’s a knock on your door. 

Your first instinct is to freeze up. When there’s another knock, your second instinct is to grab the closest object to you (which happens to be your water bottle) for self-defense. 

And then, you hear,

“You’re not watching The Nightmare before Christmas without me, are you?”

To spare yourself the shame, you won’t say that you practically leapt out of bed the moment you heard his voice. You calmly removed the covers, and casually walked to the front door. That is what you did. 

When you open it, Jungkook is standing behind it, grinning, wearing the greasiest police officer outfit you’ve ever seen in your entire life. This flew at a marketing company’s heir’s Halloween party? He’s even got what looks to be a fully-loaded water gun in his holster. 

“Don’t tell me this is what you wore to some fancy-shmancy Halloween party,” you say disapprovingly, eyebrows raised as you look him up and down and pretend that you aren’t just ogling his figure. 

“It was fine, Yeonjoo’s sister just graduated college. If anything, she was more okay with it than Yeonjoo was,” Jungkook says with a shrug. You don’t even need to let him in at this point, just watch as he tugs off his shoes and steps inside your apartment like it belongs to him. 

“What was Yeonjoo dressed as?”

“Princess Leia. We made for a very mismatched pair,” Jungkook says, chuckling to himself. “Ooh, did you guys get new tea?”

“You can have some if you want,” you tell him, shutting the door as he eagerly pulls out a box of teabags, turning on the electric kettle on the counter. “I think it’s Wild Berry Hibiscus.”

“Sounds good already,” Jungkook says, and he lets out a sigh that sounds so exhausted, so tired and aching, as he leans back against the countertop, head resting on the cupboards above it. 

“You could have gone home, you know,” you tell him. Even from the couch you can see the droop in his shoulders, the bags under his eyes. He’s been going out several times every week for the past month, and he still has a truckload of CS assignments on top. He spends precious hours schmoozing with wealthy businessmen and women, shaking people’s hands and posing for pictures in the fanciest clothes he owns and then some. The selfish part of you wants him to stay. The part that loves him knows it would be better if he went home. “You still can.”

“No,” Jungkook insists, shaking his head. “We have a tradition to uphold, don’t we?”

Even though The Nightmare Before Christmas is seventy-six minutes long, the night ends long before that. You haven’t even reached “This Is Halloween” before you feel a head hit your shoulder, and crane your neck to find Jungkook having fallen fast asleep beside you, half-full cup of Wild Berry Hibiscus next to the laptop in front of you. He’s still wearing his stupid police officer costume, the navy blue uniform tight against his body. His lips are parted ever so softly, eyelashes fluttering as little non-sounds exit his mouth, hints, whispers of snores. 

He hasn’t slept over since the first time. You’re not sure if you want the trend to continue, or if you just want to be a little bit selfish tonight, greedy, taking and taking and taking. He’s so beautiful like this, so innocent and gentle and soft. It would be such a shame if you had to wake him. 

And so, gingerly, you rest your head against his own, breathe in the quiet little sounds that leave his parted lips, memorize the feeling. It’s not the first time Jungkook’s accidentally fallen asleep on you, but there is something about this moment, sitting on your couch a few minutes past midnight, as the rest of the world celebrates around you, that is so intimate. Like here, in your apartment, you and Jungkook have your own little bubble, tucked away in a corner of the universe far from the noise of the rest of the world. And it’s here that you wish you could stay forever, for once never wanting the feeling to end. Wanting time to freeze in its very steps, the clocks stop and the orbit halts, and it is just you and Jungkook, forever. Like characters in a movie, on pause for eternity.

The moment ends when Jungkook shifts beside you before eventually coming to, slowly opening his eyes as he turns to look at you. You smile at him, dazed and tired, as he sits up properly, staring down at your half-opened laptop and the half-full cup of tea next to it. 

“Thought you’d end up sleeping here again tonight,” you joke, even though it isn’t really a joke. Maybe, somewhere deep down inside you, in the crevices between your bones and the dark corner of your heart, you had hoped that he would stay. 

“Oh, did I fall asleep?” Jungkook asks, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. It’s nearly two-thirty in the morning. 

“Just for a bit. I didn’t want to wake you, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to head back to your apartment or anything,” you tell him. 

Jungkook nearly jumps up off the couch at that, like he’s got springs in his shoes. Suddenly he’s wide awake, brown eyes blown open as he scrambles to gather his belongings, taking the cup of tea and quickly dumping it out in your sink. 

“Hey, don’t you want that?” You ask. 

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll come by some other time and have some, it was really good, I just fell asleep while drinking it,” Jungkook sputters, words moving a mile a minute as he tugs on his heavy black officer boots, scuffed at the tips from wear and tear. It’s as if he’s desperate to leave. Like your apartment has somehow offended him. Or worse, you. 

“If you want to stay, Jungkook, you can,” you tell him, standing up to run to the door before he pulls the damn thing off his hinges with how fast he’s moving. “I don’t mind. My bed is big enough for the both of us.”

“No, I should—I should get going. My… plants need watering. Right now. I totally forgot.”

It’s not a completely bullshit excuse. Jungkook has a fair few pothos amongst his other worldly apartment belongings, hanging from his ceiling or potted in old mugs and janky shoes. But it’s still a pretty bullshit excuse. It’s dark. Jungkook waters his plants every Sunday, and it’s Friday. It’s obvious he wants to get the hell out of your apartment for whatever reason. 

All you can do is hope and pray that it isn’t you who’s driving him away. 

“Oh—okay,” you tell him, opening the door as he furiously laces up his other boot. 

“Thanks for doing this. Next Halloween will be more fun, I swear. I won’t fall asleep on you. Or anything.”

“Okay, see you soon, then?” You ask, searching for a clue, a hint, anything that will tell you that it’s not you, that he hasn’t found you out yet. That you can still be friends, be best friends, because even if you want to kiss him, hold his hand, roll around in bed with him, loving him from afar is good enough. 

“Yes, yes, definitely. Dinner? Uh… sometime this week? I’ll text you. I have to go. Plants. See you!”

He dashes down the hallway. 

And you end your Halloween the same way you started it. Alone. 

Jungkook ran out of your apartment the other day like it was infested with cockroaches. Or the Black Plague. Or your microwave had just beeped. It was as if simply being inside it was going to scar him for life. 

Maybe your apartment is cursed. Jungkook does believe in ghosts. That’s another reason as to why he fears the microwave. Tiny ghosts could be living inside the microwave chamber and you’d never know. But Jungkook knows better. He knows that they’re there. 

“He just… ran out?” Chaewon asks, clearly bewildered. The two of you have been working on the first floor of the library all day, obviously doing everything in your power to not actually complete any of your assignments. 

“Yeah, something about his plants.” You sigh. 

Chaewon narrows her eyes, the same way she does when she’s plotting something. “Interesting.”

“What?” You ask, nudging her to see if you can worm a less mysterious response out of her. 

“Nothing,” Chaewon says with a nonchalant shrug. She clearly has something to say. 

“What?” You repeat forcefully. Chaewon doesn’t get to go all cryptic on you just because Jungkook ran out of your apartment like it had set fire. 

“I know I’ve only known you guys for, like, a year and a bit now, but you two have the strangest relationship I’ve ever seen,” Chaewon comments like it’s nobody’s business when it is, in fact, specifically two people’s business. 

You scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just…” She pauses, thinking. In the silence, she begins to pack up her belongings, shoving her laptop into her bag and gathering up the small pile of candy wrappers slowly amassing in front of her. “I’ve never seen two best friends have a relationship quite like yours.”

“Thanks?”

“What are you doing for dinner? I’m eating with Yoonji, but you’re welcome to join if you want,” Chaewon offers. Even though you have no idea who Yoonji is, Chaewon would never exclude you from eating with them.

“I’m getting Korean food with Jungkook, but thanks for the offer,” you say, only to be greeted with Chaewon rolling her eyes. He said he’d meet us outside?”

Sure enough, when you head out of the glass doors at the front of the library, Jungkook is waiting dutifully on a bench close by, headphones in as he nods his head and taps his feet to the beat of the music, lost in his own world. He doesn’t even realize that you’ve left the library until you’re two feet in front of him, when he recognizes your beat-up white sneakers and looks up at you in glee, eyes crinkled into crescents. 

“Ready to go?” You ask happily. Your stomach has been rumbling ever since Jungkook suggested you go out to eat this morning. 

“Hell yeah I am,” Jungkook says, putting his earbuds away as he stands up. “You coming, Chae?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m eating with a friend.” There’s nudge against your shoulder, and when you turn to face her, she winks. “But you two enjoy yourselves! Don’t have too much fun without me!”

Before you can publicly berate her for being so goddamn obvious, she’s rotating 180 degrees on her heel and speed-walking in the opposite direction, zooming off so you don’t get the chance. 

“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in ages,” you comment mindlessly. Twenty-four hours away from Jungkook feels like a lifetime and a half. Forty-eight is a light year. 

“I’ve been busy,” Jungkook says vaguely, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Doing what, going out to fancy restaurants and galas?” You half-tease. It’s sad but true—Jungkook spends his nights living a life you could only dream of. And all of these rituals you share, from studying in the library until three in the morning to crashing at his place and taking naps on separate couches, get put on the backburner. 

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to be rich,” Jungkook pouts. “Besides, the craziest thing about going to those things is that rich Korean people don’t serve Korean food at their fancy gatherings. They serve shit like caviar.”

“Is that why you’re so desperate to get Korean?” You ask pointedly. 

“Yes,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Man, I just want some tteokbokki.”

“Then we’ll go and eat all of the tteokbokki you can dream of,” you promise. You round the street corner and on the edge of the main road and an alleyway sits a tiny Korean restaurant the size of a bedroom, no more than six cramped tables inside. It’s run by a family who passes it down through each generation, dependent on the starving college students nearby to keep it alive. 

It’s Jungkook’s favorite place. The owner gives him a discount every time he sees him. 

(It’s impossible not to fall in love with Jungkook. Impossible to not be drawn to his presence, his personality. Like moths to a flame, you can’t help but come closer.)

“Ah, Jungkook!” The old man behind the counter greets as the bell above the entrance rings. “Sit! Sit!” He points to your favorite table, a round one in the far left corner that’s right next to the biggest window. “Usual?”

“Tteokbokki, too, please!” Jungkook shouts. The man gives you both a thumbs up and heads back into the kitchen. 

“It’s been a while since we came here,” Jungkook notices. You both usually eat lunch on campus and Jungkook has been largely unavailable for dinner. 

“Almost sounds like you missed it,” you poke fun. 

“God, I missed it so much,” Jungkook exclaims, tilting his head back in exasperation. “I didn’t realize that it would be so much work to get dressed up in a suit and look hot.”

“Don’t make it sound like such a drag.” You frown. Jungkook needs to put in literally zero effort to look hot. Sitting across from him in this tiny Korean restaurant as he wears nothing but a massive hoodie and black joggers, he looks hot. When he wakes up in your bed in a raggedy t-shirt, he looks hot. When you catch him at three in the morning in the library after eighteen straight hours of studying, he looks hot. 

Jungkook sits there and radiates light. Radiates warmth and joy and beauty. Laughter and hope. He’s the college version of a Disney prince. Perfectly imperfect and completely out of your reach. 

“I wish I could take you with me, you might enjoy it,” Jungkook sighs. “Plus, I have literally never seen you wear something fancier than business casual. Imagine you in a ballgown!”

“In your dreams, Jeon,” you rebuke. “Free catered food sounds nice but having to mingle with the 1% does not.”

“Touché,” Jungkook concedes. “I don’t know how Chaewon does it.”

“She’s a goddess.”

“Indeed.”

Jungkook pours you a cup of water from the pitcher that the old man dropped off, and then pours one for himself. “Chaewon said that I did well, though.”

Not surprising. Jungkook excels at everything he does. 

“Of course you did, you sexy beast,” you chide. 

“She said I’d make a good boyfriend.”

You choke on your water as the man’s son brings out your food, and you desperately attempt to avoid eye contact as you sputter and cough into a napkin, gaze pointed away from both a surprised waiter and a concerned Jungkook, who awkwardly thanks the man and leans over to pat your back. 

“You good?” He asks, brows furrowed. 

Coughing, you say, “I’m okay, I’m okay. It just—it went down the wrong pipe, that’s all.” Jungkook doesn’t buy it, and the little coughs escaping your throat don’t do much to corroborate your claim. “Seriously, Jungkook. I’m okay. It’s just water.”

“You looked like you were on the verge of death,” Jungkook frowns. 

“That’s just my face,” you fire back. “Just keep talking about what you were saying earlier. What was it?”

“Being a good boyfriend,” Jungkook says, and with no water near your lips to distract you this time, your mind bears the full force of his words, weighing down on your shoulders like a calculus textbook. 

It’s not as if you aren’t already aware that Jungkook would be the best boyfriend in the entire world, bar none. Not as if you don’t sit in bed and dream of a parallel universe, a life other than the one you’re living in right now, where Jungkook is lovely and wonderful and yours. He knocks on your door at a random hour in the afternoon with Chinese takeout from the local restaurant. He remembers your homework assignments when you forget them. He sits in bed with you and judges the Instagrams of the guys on the latest Bachelorette season. It’s as if he was already yours.

“Believe me,” you scoff. “The people know how great of a boyfriend you are.” 

“It’s fake, though,” Jungkook reminds you. “It’s only for a night. An evening, really.”

“Better than nothing,” you sigh. “If only I had enough money to rent myself a fake boyfriend for a night.”

“If only your parents were the CEOs of a multibillion dollar cooperation,” Jungkook adds on. 

“Truth,” you say, and you and Jungkook toast to that. Toast to knowing that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Toast to knowing that some of those people can get for themselves something you can only imagine in your wildest dreams—a night with Jungkook. More than just a night. A night spent dressed up in your fanciest clothes, arms wrapped tightly around each other. A night spent as a couple, rather than you and Jungkook. 

Toast to knowing that even if you’ll never get to have him like that, you get to have him like this, and you’d rather it be like this than nothing at all. 

“You don’t need to rent a fake boyfriend for a night, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you once you’ve downed the water in your glasses (stay hydrated!). “You shouldn’t feel pressured to spend time with people you don’t want to spend time with.”

You don’t understand, you sigh. I’d give anything to spend time with you. 

Jungkook pays. He says that he’s made more money accompanying wealthy socialites—even ones that don’t go to your school, because word gets around—than he would in a month’s worth of shifts at the call center. He says he’s never looking back. He’s probably not going to give up the gig for a while, either. 

“Just because you have cash now doesn’t mean you get a free pass to pay for everything we do together,” you warn. You’ve always split the price of meals, split the price birthday cakes for your friends. In the beginning of freshman year, Jungkook ate a quarter of a bag of goldfish you had and paid you fifty-three cents to account for his consumption, which you immediately sent back to him. You still fight over it, finding surreptitious ways to incorporate it into the Venmo payments you make to each other. 

“I’m rich, I can do whatever I want with my money,” Jungkook proclaims. “And if that means treating my best friend to a meal, then that means I’m gonna treat her to a meal.”

“That’s very rude of you,” you tell him pointedly. “Zero out of ten, worst best friend in the entire world. Will not accept my Venmo payments.”

Walking down the sidewalk, side by side, Jungkook wraps an arm around you and pulls you in for a side hug as you come to a stop at a traffic light. “You always do so much for me and Chaewon. You deserve to be treated once in a while, Y/N.”

“Why, ‘cause I go out to CVS at ten at night to get you Nyquil after you catch the common cold from some sweaty guy at the gym?” 

“That,” Jungkook nods, conceding, “and also because you’re one of the best friends anyone could ever ask for. The people who know you are lucky to get to say your name.”

If only Jungkook knew that he was the exact same. It’s an honor to know him. It’s a blessing to love him. 

“What fancy clothes do you own?” Chaewon’s lying on your bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. 

“I don’t know,” you respond, brows furrowing. You get up from your desk chair to start fishing through your closet,  “I have, like, some business casual stuff.”

“How about a dress?”

You whip around suspiciously, eyeing Chaewon as she lounges around in your room and acts like she isn’t plotting something nefarious. “Don’t you think you could tell me what you’re trying to convince me to do before you ask me if I have the appropriate clothing?” 

Even lying on her back, Chaewon still manages to roll her eyes, sitting up to meet your gaze. “There’s a gala tonight to celebrate some big business deal being closed and I want you to come with me,” she says like it’s a chore, exasperated. 

“Me?” You frown. “Why not Jungkook?”

“He said he had some thing to do for some other girl,” Chaewon says. The topic clearly is not at the forefront of her mind. It’s a little too obvious that it’s at the forefront of yours. “Besides, I was given no date restrictions and you deserve to have a little fun tonight. It’s a Friday!”

“I just want to stay in bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you tell her. 

“You’re already out of bed,” Chaewon points out unhelpfully. 

“Well, then I want to get into bed and play Legend of Zelda,” you rephrase. 

Chaewon pouts. “Noooo, please? It’ll be fun, I swear,” Chaewon pleads.  “It’s a huge party and hundreds of people are going to be there. Everybody gets to bring a plus one. You won’t be the only person who doesn’t know anything about business and has to cling onto their date in order to survive.”

“Gee, thanks. That makes me want to go so much,” you deadpan. 

“Seriously, Y/N. When was the last time you went out on a Friday?”

A while ago. You and Jungkook started having Mario Kart nights on Friday in the middle of your freshman year after you both came to the conclusion that every frat party smells, sounds, and tastes like the same fifty shades of college regret. You haven’t gone out since. 

“Not that long ago,” you lie. It’s been months.

“Yeah, right,” Chaewon scoffs. “Don’t think I don’t see your Bitmoji on the SnapMap sitting in your damn apartment on a Friday at 11PM,” she scolds.

“I’m gonna turn off my location,” you declare. You’ve had enough of Snapchat exposing you and your location. People can live in mystery about your whereabouts from now on. They don’t need to know. Chaewon certainly does not. 

“No excuses, you’re coming with me to the gala! You must have something to wear in that closet of yours, don’t you?” She slides off of your bed with a thud and joins you as you stand in front of your clothes. None of them scream fancy. None of them even whisper it. You stand back as she shuffles through your clothes, hangers squeaking as she shoves them along the rail. Chaewon tears through your clothing faster than you skim through your economics readings. “Aha! What do we have here?”

She whips out a dress from the very back of your closet, right behind the blazer you never wear because you’d rather be caught dead than in business attire. It’s old—you don’t think you’ve worn it since the beginning of your freshman year when you thought you actually had to dress up for parties. Needless to say, you dry-cleaned it the following Monday and never wore it again. You don’t even recall bringing it to college this year. 

“This is perfect!” Chaewon cries. “Really says ‘I can fucking dress myself’, don’t you think?”

“Are you implying that I can’t dress myself?” 

“You should definitely wear this,” Chaewon decides, dodging the question. “Gucci and Louis Vuitton are overrated, anyway.”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I.” Chaewon thrusts the dress towards you.

Chaewon shakes her head. “Of course you don’t.” 

Three hours later finds you one makeup and hair session later, standing in the lobby of a magnificent skyscraper wearing a dress that maybe could have done without the cup of frozen yogurt that you ate before you arrived. Now you remember why you haven’t really worn it since the beginning of last year. Has it shrunk?

“I feel like a loser, Chaewon,” you hiss as she bats her eyelashes and gets directed to the private elevator that will lead you both to the top floor. “A money-less, jobless loser.”

“At least you’re honest, Y/N,” Chaewon whispers back as you step into the elevator. Despite being nearly an hour and a half late (“Fashionably so!” Chaewon exclaims.) you are crowded into the back corner, several other couples stepping inside to join you, all of them wearing clothes that cost more than your tuition for all four years of college, combined. “That’s better than most of the people here.”

Nothing separates the rich from the poor like morality. 

When the elevator doors open, you and Chaewon are the last group to step out, milling about in the corner until the path is free. And when you turn your gaze away from her, you realize just why Jungkook’s so keen on going to events like these, why he never turns down an offer when it lights up his phone screen. 

In movies, rich people flaunt their wealth so extravagantly that it almost looks fake. From gigantic ice sculptures to ten-feet-tall chocolate fountains, entire orchestras and dresses worth thousands of dollars, it makes you wonder if rich people really do see those items as necessities when throwing a party. They rent out entire European castles and the press publicizes every one of their actions. To you, it looks contrived, unrealistic. Even if rich people have enough money to sustain the bottom 99% for hundreds of years, how could they spend their money on nonsense like this?

As it turns out, the ice sculptures and chocolate fountains are only half of the story.

At this gala, the hosts have spared no expense. The entire penthouse is made purely of glass, from the ceiling, to the floor, to the walls in between, giving you an absolutely breathtaking view of the city lights dozens of feet below you, of the stars millions of light years away. It’s as if you’re standing in a bubble, frozen in time, the world sparkling and twinkling and shimmering around you. You didn’t even know a place like this existed on Earth. The price to book it must be astronomical. The view, even more so. 

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, mouth dropping open at the sight. It’s a movie come to life. It’s a picture straight out of a fairytale. 

“Pretty sweet, right?” Chaewon says, clearly proud of herself for convincing you to join her. “The Parks and the Ohs really felt like celebrating.”

“No shit,” you say, dumbfounded. Chaewon wraps her arm around yours and leads you out of the elevator, her poise and grace akin to that of a princess. She’s been to this place before. She could do this in her sleep. 

“Pictures first, then we eat, and then we mingle,” Chaewon instructs, and you nod diligently. She’s the only way you’re going to make it out of this night unscathed. Without her, you don’t know what you’d do. 

On the average day of an average life of an average person, pictures means getting a stranger to take a single pic on your shitty iPhone at your worst angle, which you will begrudgingly post to your Instagram later after extensive editing. 

But this is not your average day, and these are not average lives of not average people. Pictures means professional photographers with entire setups, standing with their cameras held up to their eyes, poised and ready for the next shot. It means couples, one by one, stepping in front of a gorgeous backdrop and posing, over and over, as five photographers at once cram to get their best angle, the cleanest photo. 

You don’t know how to pose for photos. You barely remember what the proper formatting is for your essays, depending on the citation structure. And yet, Chaewon is ushering you over in front of the photographers, immediately striking one of her classic, perfect poses as you flail about, trying to figure out what to do with your hands. 

“Just relax,” Chaewon advises. Even standing beside you, she can see you panicking in her periphery. “And smile. You’re beautiful, so show them that.”

Eventually, as the photographers switch positions to get different angles, you stop worrying about your hands, stop worrying about your bag, your feet, your head tilt, and just grin. You may not have millions of dollars to your name, but it’s a Friday night and you’re living the life of a billionaire with no responsibilities. You deserve to live a little. 

When the next group comes up, Chaewon nudges you out of the way and whispers to one of the photographers, who nods dutifully in response. Wrapping her arm around yours once more, she guides you to the massive catering setup, tables and tables lined with delicacies from every country you could imagine. And of course, a gargantuan chocolate fountain in the middle of it all. 

Your stomach rumbles. Clearly, the frozen yogurt was not enough to hold you off. Or maybe it’s just because you’ve been eating college dining hall food for weeks now, and are probably going to throw up if you have to have dry beef one more time. 

“If you want to, you should try the caviar. It’s delicious. Avoid the eggplant, it tastes like foot, but the brussel sprouts are delicious. Kimchi’s good, too. Classic,” Chaewon instructs as you walk around the tables, placing servings the size of quarters onto your plate just so you can have a taste of everything. Chaewon sticks to some ribs, pan-seared salmon, and a vegetable so expensive you’ve never even heard of it before. 

“Im Chaewon, is that you?”

“Mrs. Kim!”

A strange older woman comes up to the two of you as you’re dishing up, and Chaewon’s face immediately lights up. The woman goes in for a hug, a barely-touching pat of the shoulders and hands. Over her shoulder, you watch as Chaewon rolls her eyes and pulls a face. 

“How are you, dear? You look so grown up,” Mrs. Kim says. You watch as the light slowly fades from Chaewon’s eyes with each second that passes. 

“I’m very well, Mrs. Kim. Did you get your hair done? It makes you look so youthful.” Chaewon’s a master. She glares at you when Mrs. Kim isn’t looking, raising her eyebrows as if to say learn, young padawan. This is how it’s done. They go on for a couple minutes, showering fake compliments on each other as you slowly begin to eat. You scrunch your nose up. Chaewon’s right. The eggplant does taste like foot. 

“And who is this?” Mrs. Kim asks, turning her focus onto you. You look up like a deer in headlights, a brussel sprout puffing your cheek. You were not meant to mingle and eat at the same time. 

“This is one of my closest friends, Y/N,” Chaewon introduces for you. You nod your hello, chewing the brussel sprout in the most nondescript manner possible in an effort to save whatever is left of your dignity. “She’s pre-law.”

You are not pre-law.

“Oh, how wonderful! You must have a lot you want to accomplish in life,” Mrs. Kim says. God, you couldn’t care less about how Mrs. Kim feels about you.

“Yes, definitely,” you say awkwardly. 

“We really must be going, Mrs. Kim. My parents will want me to make sure I do my rounds,” Chaewon says, a hand on your arm as she makes to get you both the fuck out of there. 

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Kim concedes, sending you and Chaewon one final goodbye before moving on to find her next victim. 

When she leaves, Chaewon seems to let out the biggest exhale of her life. “Holy fucking shit, I thought she’d never leave,” she exclaims, grabbing a flute of champagne and downing it in a single go. “She’s an associate of my father’s, so she’s always trying to kiss my damn ass. Like, sorry that you need to brown-nose your boss and his daughter just so you bribe your idiot son’s way into college.”

“You like mingling, I take?” You joke. 

“Just murder me.”

“Have any tips?”

“Flex as hard as possible without actually flexing. Try to speak to people your age because they are usually more bearable than people older than you. The best conversationalists are anybody under the age of ten,” Chaewon tells you. She picks up another glass of Prosecco. “Want some champagne?” 

“You have it,” you tell her. “I think you need it more than I do.”

Chaewon shrugs. Not as if they’re running out any time soon. She gulps it down and places it on the tray of one of the caterers as they whiz by her. 

The rest of the night passes by in the same way the beginning of it did. Chaewon drags you around the penthouse, talking with her father’s business partners and associates and their sons and daughters and husbands and wives for no more than two minutes each before moving on. She’s got her technique down pat. Greet, compliment, shade, flex, compliment, say goodbye. It’s foolproof, because you immediately notice that everyone else in the room has adopted the same approach. 

Business gatherings like these are just one big game of who can be the most-liked and the least-liked at the same time. And the answer: everybody, all at once. 

Halfway through the evening, Chaewon collapses against the back wall, totally unafraid of the possibility of the glass giving out behind her. She doesn’t care. If it breaks, it breaks. 

“Tired?”

“I just need a break,” Chaewon declares. “Because everyone in here is so fucking fake, and you’re the only one I can talk to without wanting to rip out my eardrums.”

“I’m honored,” you say sarcastically. 

“When I say you’re the only honest one here, I mean it,” Chaewon says. You lean back against the wall next to her, looking out into a sea of people in fancy clothes with fancy food and fancy friends. “Look at all these people, Y/N. All these fucking people, and you’re the only one who’s true.”

And then, you spot him. 

He’s far away, standing in a group of people you don’t recognize, a hand on the small of another girl’s back. He’s wearing a navy blue suit, tight-fitting and tailored, a silver watch sparkling on his wrist as he adjusts his sleeves. One of the other young men in the group says something funny, and he tilts his head back to laugh, chuckling as the girl beside him curls into his arms. 

You suppose it would have been ignorant of you to assume Jungkook was elsewhere on a night like this, at a gathering where everybody who knows anybody is here. 

Jungkook must not know you’re here. He mustn't, otherwise he would have come over to find you. You must have entered at different times, spent the night wandering around different parts of the penthouse. Clinging onto Chaewon’s arms, you must have avoided his gaze, and he, yours. 

Chaewon hasn’t spotted him either. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better, if you’re the only one stuck with the knowledge that he’s here tonight. Chaewon would pity you. Other people would ask you how you knew such a worldly, experienced man like him. And you would spend the night wallowing in sadness, wondering why it’s never you that gets to spend the night next to him. 

From this distance, you can see Jungkook perfectly. The light from the moon shines down on him like a goddamn spotlight, catching the sparkling on his wrist, leaving a silver gleam in his slicked back hair. You watch as he laughs, smiles, talks, grins and beams and socializes. Of course he’s here. Of course. He’s so good at this, so good at being real and genuine and happy. 

Chaewon says the only person in the room who is true is you, but how can that be? How can that be when Jungkook, the most honest, wonderful, real person you know, is standing in front of you? You aren’t honest. You aren’t true and real and whole. You stand on the sidelines, a wallflower in a room of daisies and roses, and pine from afar. Watch as he pretends to date a girl that’s not you, wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her cheek, and you act like everything is alright. 

It sucks, being trapped like this for fear of him seeing you. You know that would be worse—if he saw you standing alone and decided to take matters into his own hands. Seeing him up close in a penthouse like this, a movie set, shimmering and sparkling, it would be worse. Jungkook pulls the girl beside him in close to his side, smiling as he listens to someone else speak. She’s the perfect height in those heels, just tall enough to rest her head in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. You imagine them walking into the room together, hand in hand. Imagine them posing for the pictures like a real couple, a pair of celebrities. 

You suppose you have no reason to be jealous of her, of him, of what they have. Jealousy is when resenting someone for having something that you once had. You never had a life like that with Jungkook. You’ll never have a life like that with him. Never get dressed up to go out, never get to be his date to an event. Never get pictures taken of you as a couple, never feed each other candies and strawberries dipped in chocolate. You can’t be jealous of her. You were never in the running to begin with. 

“Ready to get back out there?” Chaewon asks, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. 

A waiter comes by with a tray of champagne flutes, offering it to the both of you. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Chaewon tells you as she takes a glass for herself. 

You sigh, casting another glance over at Jungkook. He and his date are moving around now, joining another social circle on the opposite side of the penthouse. He looks so at ease, so comfortable. He belongs there, in the middle of it all, talking and laughing and grinning. And you? You belong back at home, underneath your duvet covers playing a game of Mario Kart. Not here. 

You shake your head. You could use a drink or two in this state. “I’d love one, actually. Thank you.”

That night, you stay at Chaewon’s place. 

“You’ve been acting weird.”

“Hello to you, as well,” you say with a scowl as Chaewon sits down across from you at the local ramen place. 

“Listen,” Chaewon begins, “I’ve been thinking. You need to confess to Jungkook.”

You nearly spit out the complimentary water you were served. “Excuse me?”

“You need to. You’ve been acting weird and that’s the only thing that’s going to fix it,” Chaewon declares. 

“What do you mean I’ve been ‘acting weird’? Care to explain?” You ask, offended. You haven’t been acting weird. Well, that weird. Maybe a little weird.

“Jungkook told me you haven’t seen each other for the last eight days,” Chaewon points out. Eight days? It’s more like seven and a half. Not that you’ve been counting, or anything. 

“So? We’re busy people,” you defend. It’s a good enough excuse. You’re sophomores in college. You have classes. Clubs. You have to meal prep. 

“So? You guys are best friends. You make time to see each other at three in the fucking morning if you haven’t seen each other yet that day. And you haven’t seen each other for eight whole days? What’s wrong with you?” Chaewon demands. 

“Nothing! What the heck, I invite you out to a best friend ramen date and you just blaspheme all over me like this?” You accuse. This is not how you imagined today to be going. This isn’t how you imagined this week to be going. “Besides, it’s only been seven and a half days. He’s over-exaggerating.”

“Seven and a—holy fuck, you are literally the worst. Can you just stop resisting? If you tell him, everything will be fine and go back to the way things were,” Chaewon says, blinking, flabbergasted. 

“No, they will not,” you hiss. “Everything will change if I tell him. We’re best friends, Chae. Imagine if I told you that I loved you. What would you do?”

“I’d love you back, that’s what!” Chaewon tells you. “You deserve to be loved back, Y/N. Nothing would change between us. I already love you. You’re one of my most favorite people ever. I would never regret something if it was with you.”

“It’s different with him, though,” you try to explain. You don’t know why—you just know that it is. The way you’re friends with Chaewon and the way you’re friends with Jungkook are entirely separate. You love Chaewon. You’re not in love with Chaewon. 

“Is it? How?” Chaewon says. 

“I don’t know, I just—it’s different with him.” There’s no way to describe it. Jungkook appeared in your life and it was as if everything just clicked into place. There isn’t a single thing in your life that makes more sense to you than Jungkook. “It’s always been different with him. With you, I—I knew that we would become really close friends once we started talking a lot more in the beginning of freshman year. But with him—I don’t know. From the moment I met him, I knew that I would fall in love with him. When he said hello to me, I was fucked. There’s never been any hope for me, Chae. I just have to live like this forever.”

Chaewon rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t. You don’t even see what the fuck is right in front of you.”

“You?”

“God, I’m friends with idiots. Literal idiots. How you guys have made it through nearly a year and a half of college is beyond me,” Chaewon says to nobody in particular. “Seriously, tell me, Y/N. What do you think will happen if you tell him? Just out of curiosity.”

“I don’t know—” you pause. A lot of things. He tells you he just wants to stay friends. He rejects you because he’s not interested that way and you can’t really be friends anymore because it’s weird now. He’s already interested in somebody else. He’s already dating somebody else and you never even knew. He’s not looking for a relationship right now. Things get awkward because you confessed to your best friend that you’re in love with him and he doesn’t feel the same. You end up never speaking to each other. You never see each other. You go through the rest of university seeing each other on the Green by chance and not knowing what to do. You graduate and move on with your lives. And suddenly, he’s just a past friend you used to have. No longer a part of your life. No longer given the chance to. “He rejects me. We never speak again and have to avoid each other at all costs. He lets me down easy and I feel like a total loser for having confessed in the first place. There’s a lot.”

“Jesus, Y/N. Aren’t you forgetting a possibility?” Chaewon says, eyebrows raised high. 

“I’m omitting a lot of them,” you tell her. Including the one where, in the next three years, you end up in a hellish dystopian wasteland and you have to band together to survive but it’s awkward and terrible because you love him still and he doesn’t feel the same, never has and never will, and now you have to fight off zombies and a corrupt autocratic government all while dealing with your own goddamn feelings. That may be the most unbearable one of them all. 

“How about the one where he actually feels the same?”

“Too unrealistic,” you tell Chaewon. It’s the truth. Why else would Jungkook be traipsing around with beautiful, rich, worldly girls on his nights off? He does it for the money, sure, but he likes it. He loves the experience, loves living that sort of life. You’d never be able to provide that for him. “You know that’s never going to happen, Chae. We’re just friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“Well, he thinks that we’re just friends. And I’m not gonna fuck everything up by telling him that I’ve been madly in love with him for the past year and a half.” You can think of nothing worse. 

“Have you ever considered the fact that maybe he thinks that the two of you are just friends because you refuse to actually show him how you feel?” Chaewon asks pointedly, eyebrows raised in disapproval. She looks about ready to walk out of the restaurant. “You never do things to give him a reason to think otherwise.”

“Why would I?” 

When your ramen arrives, Chaewon takes a deep breath, downs the rest of her glass of water, and moves on. It’s clear that if she thinks about this any more, her head will explode. 

Nothing’s ever going to change between you and Jungkook. You knew, when you first met him, that it was always going to hurt like this. That loving him was something you had to sacrifice to stay close to him. He lights up every fucking room he walks into, and it’s all you can do not to sit there and bask in his warmth. You would rather catch a single one of his rays than be in the darkness. And if being friends with him means that friends is all you’ll ever be, then so be it. You’re lucky to have him like this. Why take the plunge? 

“Just—” Chaewon says as you begin to pull apart the noodles in your own bowl. “I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now. And you deserve to be happy, Y/N. You deprive yourself of all of these wonderful things, and I just want you to know that you deserve every single one of them. But telling him? That’s something that even I know would make you the happiest. You shouldn’t live like this, Y/N. You have no idea what you’re missing out on if you do.”

The streak of not seeing Jungkook ends the next day, when you come back from an evening grocery store run to find him standing outside your door, hand about to knock on the wood. He’s all dressed up again, button-down and slacks, hair styled and parted, and you watch as he takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s waiting for the best time to knock. 

“Jungkook?”

He practically jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lays his eyes on you. 

“Oh, Y/N!” He exclaims. “I was just about to see if you were home.”

“You could have just texted, you know,” you say jokingly, joining him at the front door as you fumble for your keys. 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Jungkook admits sheepishly. 

“Well, make it up to me by helping me unpack these,” you demand, kicking the door open as you reach down to grab your reusable canvas bags filled with groceries. Immediately, Jungkook is leaning down to grab all of them for you, hauling them inside like they weigh nothing. You stare as he heads over to your kitchen without breaking a sweat, biceps clenching as he lifts the groceries up onto the counter. 

“What’d you get?” Jungkook asks, slowly beginning to take out the groceries. He’s in your apartment so often that he’s memorized where all of your food goes, from the correct shelf in the fridge for produce to the proper cabinet for cereal. 

“Just like… groceries. I saw a box of peppermint chocolate bars that I thought you might like, they’re in there somewhere,” you say mindlessly, pointing to a random canvas bag. Immediately, Jungkook abandons his putting-away-groceries duty to fish through each of the bags, hunting for the box of goodies. “And I got some cheap Trader Joe’s wine. You know. Just for emergencies.”

“Trader Joe’s wine and peppermint chocolate bars,” Jungkook comments, nodding in approval. He finally finds the box and tears it open sideways. “Sounds like a perfect dessert if I’ve ever heard one.”

“What, did you eat already?” You ask, busting out the wine and a couple of mugs, because you don’t own any wine glasses. Nothing says cultured like drinking seven-dollar wine out of mugs with kitschy sayings like “don’t talk to me until this is empty” or “coffee is my first love” written on them. 

Jungkook shrugs. He grabs the box and heads over to your couch, already kicking back and relaxing. “Yeah, I went to some restaurant for another double date,” Jungkook says. “It was one of those places where everything is so expensive but the portions are the size of my fist. Of your fist.”

“You sound hungry,” you note, filling up the mugs and joining him. “And mad.”

“I’m getting reimbursed for the money I spent tonight, so I suppose I could be angrier. But I’m starving. Let’s finish this entire box of chocolates and do nothing else.”

“Your words, not mine,” you say, although his proposal sounds more than appealing to you. 

You turn the television on for some background noise, switching to a channel showing old reruns of unsolved serial killer cases, because nothing sets the mood better than the words “then, slowly, he took the knife with which he killed her and began to slice away at her body”. Jungkook doesn’t seem to pay the television any attention, though, instead focused entirely on the chocolate in front of him, calling his name. 

He takes an enormous bite out of one before moaning far too sexually for your liking, tossing his head back in bliss. “Oh my God.”

“Good?”

Jungkook moans again in response.

“Please don’t orgasm on this couch. Who knows what other bodily fluids were on here before we bought it,” you ask calmly. 

“I’d say that’s nasty, but you guys did cover this with one of those couch covers, so it’s not like my body is coming into contact with other people’s body stains,” Jungkook reasons. The couch cover is the single best purchase you’ve made this entire year. Possibly your entire life. “But they’re delicious. You made a good purchase.”

“I thought you would like them,” you say. “You’re the only person I know who actually likes the combination of mint and chocolate.”

“People who say that it tastes like toothpaste are brushing their teeth with the wrong kind of toothpaste,” he tells you pointedly. “I don’t understand. This is God’s combination. It’s perfect.”

“As long as you love it, that’s all that matters,” you tell him with a pat on his back, breaking off a square of the chocolate bar for yourself. It is pretty good, even if mint chocolate ice cream does sometimes taste like toothpaste. But you’d never tell Jungkook that, of course. 

Jungkook takes a swig of the wine, picking up the mug and gulping down about half of it, the wine bitter on his tongue. “Goes great with this wine, too,” he jokes. You take a sip yourself. It’s… not very good. Actually, rather sticky. No wonder it was only seven dollars. 

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know it tastes like ass,” you tell him honestly. To be fair, you and Jungkook have both had worse. Compared to the shit served at frat parties, this may as well be beautifully-aged Malbec. 

“It only tastes a little bit like ass,” Jungkook compromises. “But it doesn’t not taste like ass.”

“Let’s finish it now so we don’t have to have any more of it later,” you decide. “You’ve probably had some of the best alcohol in your life this semester.”

Jungkook thinks back, tilting his head to the side as he begins to recall all of the instances in the past few months when he’s had anything to drink. “Soju’s still my favorite. But yeah, I’d say I’ve had wine that probably costs more than my textbooks for this semester if I hadn’t pirated them all.”

“The beauty of being a CS student,” you muse. 

“You know it,” he says, holding his half-empty mug out as a toast to himself. “But seriously, even if this Trader Joe’s wine literally tasted like garbage, it would still be better than all of that other shit.”

You turn to him, skeptical. Even the single night you spent with Chaewon, in a penthouse amongst the stars, drinking champagne and eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, was more than you could ever dream of. You woke up the next day on an air mattress in her bedroom and wanted nothing more than to go back to basking in the luxury, desperate for another taste. It was addicting. How could Jungkook ever prefer what he has right now to what he had last night? 

“Really? Don’t say that just to make me feel better,” you tell him. You can take it. Jungkook has every reason to prefer the fancy meals, the penthouses, the suits and ties to your janky little apartment and old clothes from high school. The two aren’t at all on the same level. They’re not even in the same goddamn game. If you could drop everything to have what Chaewon has, what the other girls and boys who pay for Jungkook’s company have, you would. 

“I’m not,” Jungkook tells you seriously. “I mean it. I would rather sit in your room, hunched over your tiny Switch because you lost the HDMI cord to plug it into the television, playing Mario Kart than out there, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“But it was fun in the beginning, wasn’t it? Getting to be rich without the moral ambiguity that comes along with being part of the upper class?” You ask. It must have been. Jungkook looked so happy when he first started doing these gigs, coming back to your apartment in a state of bliss, a little tipsy from the expensive champagne and steak. He’d knock on your door and tell you all about the night, from how older businessmen handed him their cards and offered him jobs, to the hundreds of ice cream flavors you could only ever dream of eating. Everything seemed so wonderful to him.

Jungkook shrugs, pouring himself more wine. “Yeah, I guess, but it gets so old after a while. Like, no wonder Chaewon was so desperate for me to go with her that first time. It sucks the damn life out of you. You walk around and mingle and pretend that you’re the greatest person on Earth, talking about yourself and kissing up to the other people for an entire night. Honestly, sometimes it’s worse than my CS homework. And I hate that shit.”

“Chaewon mentioned that the eggplant usually tastes like foot,” you add. Jungkook nods in agreement. 

“Yeah, it does. She warned me about it the first night and I, like a fool, tried it because I usually like eggplant. And it still tasted like foot. Never again,” Jungkook says, shivering at the mere thought of it. It’s funny, actually, because you did the exact same thing. “But the food is like, the one thing I pretty much don’t have the right to complain about. It’s delicious and usually free.”

“But I hope that you’re having fun,” you tell him honestly, because you do. When you’re sitting in your room, eating two different pints of Ben & Jerry’s, you hope that Jungkook, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing, is enjoying himself more than you are. Because he deserves it. You never want there to be a time when he’s sad, when he’s unhappy or bored. Jungkook deserves to live the happiest version of life he possibly can. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“I do,” Jungkook says. There’s a second half to that sentence. “I do—it’s just that… It's so fake, you know? I feel like such a goddamn actor when I’m there. I get to live this extravagant lifestyle for a few hours but in return I don’t even know who I’m looking at when I look in the mirror.”

Oh?

“Like, I pretend to be this business student, when I’m not. I pretend to have millions of dollars to my name, when I don’t. I hold hands and pose for pictures with people Chaewon is vaguely familiar with and nothing, literally nothing, feels real. I don’t know.” Jungkook takes another swig from the mug. “Even the relationships I have when I’m there are fake.”

“Do you hate it that much, then?” You ask him. If it’s so awful and terrible, then why does he keep doing it? Keep dressing up and going out, holding hands with and wrapping his arm around them?

“No,” Jungkook says, sighing as he leans back into the couch. “I don’t hate it. I just—I wish I had something real afterwards to come back home to.”

Real? Like what? Like you? You aren’t real. You sit next to your best friend and pretend that everything is fine. That nothing hurts. You’ve had the biggest crush on him ever since you laid eyes on him, and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure that he’s the only one that doesn’t know. 

“That’s why I’m always coming back to your apartment afterwards,” Jungkook says. He chuckles, but it isn’t his usual laugh. It sounds forced, contrived and fake. Jaded. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it almost immediately. Then, he breathes, long and slow. Thinks. The silence is almost unbearable. Waiting to hear what he has to say, even more so. “You’re the most genuine person I know. What we share—it’s real.”

Tonight is the least lonely you’ve felt in a long time. 

Even though Jungkook has something tonight, you aren’t aching to be by his side, desperate to spend more time with him. He told you that he was really looking forward to this one, that it wasn’t going to be some stuffy gala or blind double date. He said something about going to karaoke with the girl and her friends, singing Britney Spears songs and taking shots of soju for hours on end, screaming his voice hoarse. And even if you aren’t there with him, you’re happy because you know that he’s happy, that he’s genuinely enjoying himself. 

So, you aren’t that lonely. 

Content with the state of your life as it is, you take the night off, ready to prepare yourself for a weekend that will almost certainly consist entirely of just work. Chaewon’s voice echoes in your mind (“I know that you aren’t as happy as you could be right now,” she had told you), but it’s different now. Because you are happy. You are happy, because Jungkook’s happy. The two of you see each other just as frequently as you used to. He texts you about his terrible CS homework and the Shiba Inu he just saw being walked across campus. It’s all gone back to the way it used to be. That’s what you had wanted. 

You were prepared for this. You knew that it would eventually boil down to this, down to whether or not you could take Jungkook not knowing how you feel any longer. But right now, you don’t care. Jungkook not knowing has always been a part of your friendship. The love you hold for him, in the spaces between your bones and deep in the cracks of your heart, that has always been there. You see it, hear it, feel it, whenever you’re with him. Even when you’re not with him, it will remind you, appear in the silence, the emptiness. It will always make itself known, because it’s become a part of you. From the moment you met him, it had settled into your heart.

Staring out of the window by your living room, overlooking the ugliest parking garage on campus, you sigh. You can’t see the stars from here, not even in the dead of night, but that’s alright. There is something so peaceful about the navy blue sky. About how mysterious and unknown it is. It calms you. You put on a movie that you’ve genuinely been wanting to watch for a while, sit down in your bed, amongst your duvet and sheets, pillows and plushies, and enjoy yourself, for once. It’s a good night. 

And then, much like most aspects of your terribly convoluted, over-complicated and confusing life, it all comes crashing down. 

There’s a faint thud from outside, a soft little non-noise that you assume is coming from the street. Not wanting to interrupt your movie—she’s just about to confess, holy shit—you ignore it. It’ll go away eventually. 

Then another thud. You pause, leaning towards your window to see if you can figure out the source. Silence. You’re just about to press play, when you hear it again. And again. It gets louder and louder, making up in volume what it lacks in rhythm and order, until you realize it’s someone knocking on your door. And not just knocking casually. It’s as if someone is shoving their whole body into it, shoulders and chest and feet hitting the wood as they bang on it. 

“Y/N?”

Oh, God.

Pushing off your duvet, you tug on your slippers and wipe away the crust around your eyes as you rush towards the door. You know who’s on the other side. You’re not sure if answering it is the better or worse option. 

You’ve always had an uncanny ability to pick the latter. 

When you open the door, Jungkook, in a fancy sweater pulled over a white button down and black jeans that could almost pass for dressy slacks, is standing on the other side. 

Correction: he’s sort of standing on the other side. He nearly topples over when you pull open the door, having clearly been leaning on it, and you barely have time to reach your arms out to catch him. 

“Oh! Y/N!” Jungkook exclaims, as if he’s surprised to see you inside your own apartment. “I was hoping to see you.”

“I figured,” you tell him, laughing. You guide him inside, and even in his state he remembers to tug off his clean white sneakers, kicking them towards the shoe rack. “It’s so late, Jungkook, you should go home.” 

“No,” Jungkook whines. “I wanted to see you. I missed you.”

“We saw each other this morning, Jungkook. And this afternoon, right before you went out,” you remind him. The words go in one ear and out the other, and he pulls you in close to him, wrapping his arms around you as he presses his body against yours in a sweaty hug. His grip is tight around you as he rests his head on your shoulder, breathing you in as if you’d been gone for years. Slowly, after a few seconds, you pull away from him, a hand on his shoulder to get him to look at you through his too-long bangs, hanging over his eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong? I’m right here, don’t worry. I never left.”

“I had a lot to drink tonight,” Jungkook tells you, blinking rapidly. “Like, a lot. They just kept ordering soju and I just kept drinking it. It was really good. Have you had strawberry soju? It’s delicious.”

“I might have had it once or twice,” you fib, not able to recall having it one way or another. “Come on, sit down,” you point him towards the couch, but he refuses, clinging onto you even as you make your way towards the kitchen. “Jungkook, please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“But I missed you,” Jungkook repeats. “I missed you a lot. I thought about you the entire time I was there.”

You can’t say you didn’t do the same. 

“Next time we’ll do something together then, hey? Something really fun, like going to an arcade or bowling,” you promise him with a pat on his shoulder. “But you need to drink some water, JK. Can you please sit down?”

“No, I want to be with you,” Jungkook says like it’s nothing. Like the feeling of him wrapped around you like this, holding onto you and telling you that he misses you, that he thinks about you, doesn’t mean anything. You don’t think your heart has beaten since you opened the door to see him standing on the other side. 

(You don’t think it’s beaten since you met him. Since he came up to you on the pavement, asking you for directions. Since you told him your name, and he told you his.)

“Ah, fine, just be careful, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” you concede, because it’s so easy to let him have his way, so easy to say yes to him. You manage to grab an empty water bottle and fill it up with what’s left in your Brita, too lazy to refill it after it’s left bone dry. Slowly, you make your way to your bedroom, out of view of the central living space, where your roommates could burst through the door at any moment and see you taking care of your drunk best friend on the sofa. 

Slowly, you settle on your bed, sitting off of the edge of it as you cajole him into drinking some water, whispering soft nothings to make sure he finishes the whole thing. 

“Does your head hurt or anything?” You ask him, already looking around for the stash of Advil you usually keep on your nightstand.

“No, no, I’m fine, Y/N, seriously,” he promises, even if you can see the glazed-over look in his eyes, the way his sweaty bangs stick to his forehead. “You’re too nice, you know? Always treating me when I show up at your place. Even when you don’t invite me.”

“You know I never mind seeing you,” you tell him. “You can come over whenever you want. I’m always here.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook says with a pout, and it makes you furrow your brows. When have you not been? Jungkook’s been going out to events ever since the beginning of the semester, and without fail, you’ve always been waiting for him at home, knowing he’ll turn up one way or another. Except, there was— “That one time a couple of weeks ago, I went to this crazy big gala with Eunha, there were so many people there, and I came back home afterwards and knocked on your door, and your roommates said they hadn’t seen you all day. Where were you that day?”

He had come? You didn’t know if he would. 

(Or maybe, you did. You knew he would show up at your door once he got back from that night, and selfishly, not wanting to see him after the fact, the leftover version of him, the part he leaves behind when he goes out. You knew he would be there and you couldn’t bear the thought of being the second girl he spends the night with. The other option. Maybe, you’ve known all along that you’ll never quite stack up to the girls he goes out with, and that sometimes, when you see him all dressed up while you’re in your hoodie and sweats, it reminds you is nothing more than a casual friendship.)

“I must have been out late with Chaewon that day, I’m sorry,” you apologize, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. “I didn’t know you would come.”

“I always come after my events. You know that.”

“I didn’t know if you’d remember to,” you correct. 

“I’d never forget about you,” Jungkook says, the alcohol erasing his filter. Making him honest. “I really missed you, that day. I had been waiting the entire night to see you.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you promise, and this one is for real. 

“You know, today?” Jungkook says, pulling his head back so he can get a good look at you, your eyes meeting his own. “Today, I was so sad on my way here. It was so terrible, because I was drunk and sad and I missed you.”

“You were sad? What happened?” You ask, leaning in. Jungkook? Sad? Who would do such a thing to him? Who would erase the smile on his face, his crescent eyes, and replace them with tears? 

“This girl and I, she was a lot of fun. We sang a couple duets together and we were pretty good,” he hiccups, “kept winning. It was fun. She and I talked for a long time. I definitely liked her the most out of all of the girls I’ve gone out with. Besides Chaewon, of course.”

“What happened? Did she do something you didn’t want? You know you can tell me, Jungkook,” you ask, a hand on his arm. 

“No.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I don’t know. She was fun and I was drunk. We were on our way back in the Lyft when she leaned over and kissed me. And I kissed her back, and it was kind of nice. I haven’t really kissed someone like that in a while,” Jungkook tells you. And even though you’re hearing these words from him, hearing how he had all of this fun with a girl who isn’t you, how he kissed her in the backseat of a car, you rally, blinking away the tears you can feel forming in your eyes. It’s none of your business, you tell yourself. You and Jungkook aren’t together. You don’t get to feel bad about him kissing someone else. 

“Did you like it?” You ask, each word a pin in your chest. 

“It was pretty nice,” Jungkook admits. “We, uh, we made out a bit in the back of the car until we got to her place. And then we got out of the car and she asked me if I wanted to go back with her, to her room. And—and I almost said yes.” Jungkook looks about ready to combust. At his side, his fists are clenched so hard you’re worried he’ll pop a vein. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” you tell him, looking him in the eyes so he knows that you don’t mind, that he can tell you these things without worry. Jungkook may be the love of your life, but he’s your best friend, first. He’s always been, before anything else, your best friend. 

“But there is!” Jungkook cries, standing up in anguish. “There is, Y/N, you don’t understand! I almost had sex with her!”

“You’re allowed to, Jungkook!” You assure him, standing up to reach out to him. 

“No, Y/N, you don’t get it,” he tells you coldly, pulling his hand away. “Why aren’t you mad? Aren’t you angry that I nearly had sex with her?”

“No, what the fuck, Jungkook, why would I be mad?” You shout back at him. “You can do whatever you want with your body, it’s not my job to police it! I’m your friend, not your mom!”

“But don’t you want to be more, Y/N?” He rounds on you. “Don’t you want to be the one kissing me, fucking me? Why aren’t you jealous?”

“Were you trying to make me jealous, Jungkook? Is that what you were trying to do? You wanted to get a reaction out of me because my best friend nearly fucked someone else and then didn’t? What the fuck, Jungkook? What do you want from me?”

“I just want you to tell me you fucking love me back!”

“Jungkook, what—”

Jungkook, eyes dark and furious, pushes you against your closet door as your lips part, feeling the breath get knocked out of your lungs. He’s so close. He’s right there, you can see him, watch as he looms over you, hands clenched in your hoodie as he presses you against the wall. And then, wordlessly, he’s leaning down, crashing your mouths together. 

Suddenly, your heart starts. You gasp into the kiss, the feeling of his mouth on top of yours. It’s fervent, hot and angry and passionate, his body against your own as your hands reach out to press against his head. You seize up at the feeling, almost as if in shock, before melting into his touch, leaning into him, desperate. You can feel his breath mixing in with your own, feel the way his chapped lips meet your overly-moisturized ones, feel how his hands drift from where they’re bunched up in the front of your hoodie to your waist, your hips, your thighs. Jungkook kisses ruthlessly, kisses like he’s trying to prove a point. Holds onto you like he’s afraid to let go. 

When you part, gasping for air, Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, blinking. 

“Jungkook, you’re drunk—” you tell him firmly, refusing to let get your hopes up if what you have in front of you is really just an intoxicated best friend. Your heart is beating miles a minute, about ready to thump right out of you, chest heaving and mouth agape. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Jungkook argues back. “Even when I’m sober I love you. Don’t tell me I’m confused because I’m drunk.”

“You show up at my place at one in the morning, tell me about how you made out with some other girl and almost slept with her just to get me angry, kiss me, and tell me not to tell you you’re confused?” You demand. “Jungkook, I’ve never been more confused in my life than right now, can you please just—”

“I love you, Y/N,” Jungkook says, and even though he’s angry, red in the face and sweaty, when he says it, it’s soft. It’s a whisper, a murmur. He says it not to convince you, but so you know. “I’ve been in love with you for so goddamn long, ever since I fucking met you. And I thought you might like me back but you never did anything about it, and so neither did I.”

“You need to go home, Jungkook,” you tell him, hiccuping. When you blink, you feel the warm tears streaming down your face. You hadn’t even noticed them. “You can’t just come into my apartment and tell me shit like that. How do you think it makes me feel?”

“Do you feel the same, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, looking you in the eyes. He’s angry, that’s for sure, but even underneath, you can see the desperation, see how he’s just waiting for an answer. 

“Go home, Jungkook. Please. Let’s talk about this when you aren’t drunk, okay? I’m confused and I need to clear my head,” you plead, pushing him towards the door. “Please, okay? Be safe, too. I’ll call Chaewon to give you a ride,” you tell him, grabbing your phone. 

Jungkook puts a hand on your wrist. “I’ll be okay, Y/N. I just… Please, tell me. Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it did, but Jungkook, I can’t—”

“It meant something to me, too,” he tells you firmly, lets the words sink into the air around you.  He heads for the door, pulling on his shoes. He looks so sad. “Good night, Y/N.”

You place a hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jungkook.”

It’s barely nine in the morning the next day when a knock wakes you up. It’s soft at first, one every couple of seconds, before it gets progressively louder. Slowly, you get out of bed, trying to tame your hair as you rub the sleep from your eyes. 

“Y/N’s in her room. Is that for her? That’s so cute. Yeah, she’s probably awake. You can just knock.” It’s your roommate. 

You scramble to make your bed, pouring some water from the water bottle by your nightstand into your hand and splashing your face, wiping it away with an old t-shirt as you run towards the door, pulling it open just in time. 

On the other side is a much more tired, much less drunk Jungkook, one hand raised and about to knock, the other holding a bouquet of daisies. 

“Hey,” he says shyly, mouth breaking into a smile the moment he sees you. 

“Hey,” you say back. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, head hurts like hell, though,” Jungkook says. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, s-sure, of course,” you say, stepping aside to let him into your bedroom. 

“These are for you.” Jungkook holds out the bouquet towards you, wrapped up neatly in cellophane and tied at the stems with a bow. “So you don’t have to keep Febreze-ing your room all of the time.”

“They’re beautiful, Jungkook,” you tell him, grinning as you take them from his hands. Today feels different from yesterday. It feels lighter, fresher. New. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I—” He pauses, taking a second to think, “I meant what I said, yesterday. Maybe not all of it, but. Most of it, yeah. I meant it.”

“Why did you try to make me jealous, Jungkook?” You ask him. “Why did you think that would work?”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook admits. “I shouldn’t have, and I fucked up. I just got so… so tired of waiting to see if you’d ever come around. I just wanted you to tell me. And then I guess I got so fed up that I told you instead.”

You place the bouquet on your dresser before walking towards him, reaching a hand out. “Yeah, that was a pretty big asshole move of you,” you chide, grinning to yourself. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“But I’m happy you’re here,” you tell him. “And happy that you meant what you said. Maybe it could have been said in a less angry way, but hearing it made me happy.”

“I’m happy that you’re happy.” Jungkook grins. “You’re my favorite person, Y/N.”

“When you asked me, yesterday, if that kiss meant anything to me? And I said it did?” You begin, Jungkook nodding in front of you. He’s positively beaming. “It still does. I want to do that every day, Jungkook. Every hour. Every single second for the rest of my goddamn life.”

“You do?” Jungkook asks. 

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook. From day one, it’s always been you.” You smile, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. Feels like you’re fucking flying. Like you’re weightless. 

“I love you, too, Y/N. I never want to be away from your side,” he declares, and like a cheesy, rom-com movie, like the shitty novels you used to read in eighth grade, he pulls you in close and presses a kiss against your lips. Wraps his arms around your waist as he holds you tight, kisses you in the middle of your bedroom, in your hoodie and sweatpants, a bouquet of daisies on your dresser. He kisses you because he can, because for every second of every day for the rest of your goddamn life, he can kiss you, over and over and over. 

“We owe Chaewon an apology,” you tell him when you’re parted, sitting on your bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Jungkook agrees. “She’s been on my ass for ages about telling you.”

“Mine too.”

“She’s such a great best friend,” Jungkook comments. “Knew all this time that her two friends were madly in love with each other and didn’t say a damn word to either of us. That’s loyalty.”

“We should do something for her, to make up for it all,” you suggest. 

“You know,” Jungkook says, grinning, “I know this guy who made bank this semester by going on fake dates with a bunch of really rich girls. Maybe he could help.”

“I know him, too,” you joke. “He’s the love of my fucking life.”

Jeon Jungkook quits his job on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of his sophomore year.

You know this because on the ninety-eighth day of the fall semester of your sophomore year, he comes banging on the door of your apartment shared with three other girls at 7:18PM, eighteen minutes after he normally heads out on one of his many dates. 

“Y/N!” He shouts, banging wildly on your door. You rush over to open it, letting the pasta water on the stove boil over and sizzle on the heat. He’s barely gotten in a second knock when you turn the doorknob to reveal your smiling boyfriend in his oversized hoodie.

“Don’t tell me you’re blowing someone off for me,” you say, inviting him inside. He places a kiss on your cheek on the way in, taking off his shoes and coat as you rush over to take care of the pasta.

“Me? Blowing someone off? Never,” Jungkook says, mock offended. “I actually quit the dating thing, this afternoon. A girl asked if I was free and I said that I wasn’t, because I have to go home to my girlfriend making me a meal. Don’t you love the sound of that?” He asks, pleased with himself.

“You quit? I thought you liked doing that stuff,” you say, using the spaghetti fork to move around the linguine. “Hope you’re cool with boring old pasta for your meal tonight. You could have had caviar if you hadn’t quit.”

“I don’t care, it smells so good,” Jungkook tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stands behind you, watching you cook from over your shoulder. “Look at you, being all domestic and shit. It’s very cute.”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re the better cook, I get it. Pasta is all I got right now.” You pout, turning down the heat as you move to pour yourselves two cups of tea. Jungkook follows you the entire way to the kettle, grip on your waist never faltering. “You can keep going on those dates, you know. I don’t mind. I get to see you in a suit when you get back, and then I get to take it off of you. It’s a win-win.”

Jungkook pinches your waist in response. “If you have a thing for suits, you can just tell me, you know. I won’t be mad.”

You turn around to whack him with the spaghetti fork. “I do not!”

“Alright, Y/N, guess I won’t wear a suit next time you call me at two in the morning—”

“I never said you couldn’t,” you interrupt, making Jungkook laugh. 

“You’re so cute, Y/N,” Jungkook coos as you begin to dish up the pasta, making sure to add peas because Jungkook loves peas with his spaghetti. “But I quit because I have enough money to sustain me for the rest of the semester. I’ll work over break and get a new job next semester when the new work-study positions open. Don’t worry about me,” he assures you. 

“But didn’t you like going out and everything? Getting dressed up and drinking fancy champagne?” You ask, setting the plates down at your dinky kitchen table, a single scented candle lit in the center. 

Jungkook thinks about it for a split second, and then he shakes his head. “Nah. I like hanging out with my girlfriend more.”

“Well, when you put it like that…” you reason with a grin. 

Jungkook laughs, leaning over the table to plop a kiss on your lips. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Yeah, you pea-eating loser,” you chide, “I love you too.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!