#oh my beloved rare pairings

[teafiend]

Being a pathetic rare pair(s) shipper is un-ironically hilarious because I always cringe at the writing whenever I reread my own fics but nonetheless enjoyed myself thoroughly each and every time.

The ultimate writing for oneself. 😅😆😜😂☺️

My love(s) 😍

Disclaimer: Edits credited to their respective makers 🙏🏽

[fangemorose]

The fandom of Count of Monte Cristo be like

[wishingly-mesh]

Pre relationship rain/reiko stuff! (Messy sketchy art sorry :3)

Yapping about my headcannons for the ship under this:

[lots of spelling errors probably, be warned :3] I think they were like, childhood friends. Reiko becoming Shao Kahn’s kid basically placed him into the Royal family circle. And outside of the sister Rain was the only other guy around. I imagine the two bonded quickly and basically were best friends. Bonding over the Mutual want to test their limits, to grow stronger, reach higher.

friendship turned into romance into their late teens. A secret romance, something both of them didn’t really want people to know, specifically shao kahn. Nothing crazy just, often escaping responsibility in a rainy night. Especially after Rain became high mage, the two hung out a lot at night.

Reiko becoming second in command, and his devotion to Shao Kahn drove a wedge in-between them. So focused on “I owe him my life” kinda debt the two just, drift. Cut off entirely when rain leaves Shao Kahn and goes on the run from basically everyone after drowning that city (can’t remember the name on the top of my head rn).

I specifically think about that one dialogue thing where reiko says “shao kahn still needs you.” To Rain

and all I can think about it. “But I needed you.”

Anyways, Rain finds Reikos absolute devotion to Shao Kahn almost horrifying. he wants him to be broken free of that sort of mindset

anyways I’m just coughing out random thoughts

bye bye :3

[galaxostars]

iris i need to know your fav rarepairs immediately

hi robyn !!

HA so this question is hard cause I’m a huge multishipper and fall in love w pairings reallll quick so you could basically name any pairing and… I’d be into it, but I’m gonna try and keep it short (or my definition of it at least)

Mauraudeurs era :

Remus/James (my absolute babes the most underrated)

James/Sirius (they shouldn’t be a rare pair ohmygod they’re SOULMATES)

Remus/Regulus (seriously? those introverted book nerds who are done w prongsfoot? need I say more?)

James/Barty (the potential for these two to be UNHINGEDDDD is so so good plus it brings out dark!james which i love—but on that topic I ship James and Barty w pretty much anyone sooo)

James/Narcissa (this proves my theory of me shipping James with everyone but also, it’s not my fault if a friend wrote the hottest fic ever w those two and now I’m brainwashed)

Golden trio era :

Ron/Krum (…this one’s my friends’ fault, they cough cough gently bullied me into writing them and now I’m obsessed)

Ginny/Cho (the way they’re both so powerful, smart and hot and so done w Harry lmao)

Oliver/Marcus (idk how I fell into that one but the flintwood fics out there are so fucking good it’s not even funny)

Blaise/George (yes yes yes I blame ‘here’s looking at you, kid’ but also George and Blaise are both so hot and I ship them w everyone)

Harry/Sirius (I’m a sucker for age gap—and these two! ohmygod the ANGST is amazing??? to rlly hurt myself I like to think of this ship as Harry being so lost and in need of a masculine older figure in a fucked up way and Sirius still mourning James, trying to navigate his feelings towards his best friend and his son, his guilt, the way he’s literally touch starved, probs like Harry… they fuck me istg)

Next gen era (including cross gen):

Harry/Teddy (this one’s like sirry but cuter? there’s more hope? two orphans finding family and love where they can…. and age gap my love)

James Sirius/Teddy (again idk why they’re so good but THE FICS OUT THERE HOLY SHIT)

Draco/Albus Severus (I read ONE 100k long fic abt them and now I’m soooo fucking hooked, they’re both soooo slytherin which makes the dynamic super fun, and petty abt not being Harry Potter lmao)

I have not mentioned my dead dove fave ships for my… protection and peace haha but I have a lot of those too !

So, ahem, there ya go 🤣

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[ateliersss]

Don't worry, only You and Him

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: Waking up from the week of bed rest after giving birth, you hadn't expected how your eldest seemed to resent the newest addition to your family. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 2.782 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ I'm back with family drama but also family fluff between mom and her favorite boys. Also, how come Yautja pups are so freaking adorable?! Oh, and these too. Comments are always appreciated.

The happy squeals of an infant pup filled the otherwise peaceful and quiet space of the clan leader's abode.

Little Toyah was a lively little pup for being only four weeks old. Currently, he was lying on his back on the nest of his parents, his small arms flailing and his short legs kicking as high-pitched babblings left his mouth. His upper body was resting against the calves of your crossed legs. His eyes were wholly focused on you leaning over him, cooing at him while your fingers tickled his sides.

It was one of the rare moments where you weren't suffocated by your mate who was constantly glued to your side, desperate to be as close to you as possible, and your eldest boy who was shadowing your every move, ensuring you didn't strain yourself. You knew they meant no harm, but it got overwhelming after some time when you just wanted to leave the nest to get something to eat or take your pup outside for a short walk in the village, and two looming figures would follow you around.

Especially Akail had a hard time leaving you alone. From what Mi'ytiar had told you, he had been restless in those six days you had been unconscious and even became hostile towards his younger brother. Your heart broke when your mate admitted that he had to physically fight his son off after he tried to forcefully get into your shared bedroom where you were healing and little Toyah was sleeping. Mi'ytiar didn't need to tell you that it wasn't an attempt to see you.

You couldn't have imagined how much your near-death experience had affected him. He had been so excited to meet his little mei'hswei, but now, all he saw was a parasite that had almost taken his beloved mother away from him.

"It almost killed you!" He had yelled at you in rage when you had tried to confront him about his strange behavior towards Toyah.

His father hadn't taken kindly in him talking in that tone to you, his large body towering behind yours with crossed arms as he stared murderously at his son. No one was allowed to raise their voice against you, especially your child who had to always respect and cherish you.

The conversation grew heated with every second and Akail had made the mistake of adopting an aggressive posture towards you. Well, not you, but your stubborn incapability of understanding his feelings towards what had almost cost your life. It had set Mi'ytiar off in the worst way possible and both had fought like wild animals until they both halted when your screams finally reached their ears.

In their scramble in the main room of your home, they hadn't only destroyed most furniture, like the long table occupying the middle, or had torn down Mi'ytiar's display of various skulls and other trophies. They had also knocked you over when you had foolishly tried to get between them. You were hysterically crying, emotions all over the place, your trembling body cowering on the ground, both hands pressed to your mouth.

Your mate was by your side in a second and carefully cradled your face. He pulled you towards him, your forehead pressed against his, and filled the air with his reassuring purrs. You choked on your tears and tried your hardest to force them back. You knew how much your negative emotions could affect him. It never ended well with the one that caused them.

"Please don't kill him." You pleadingly whispered before you felt him pull away from you.

He had found it very difficult to comply with your request when he banished his son from your home, threatening him to not show his face anywhere near his mate and pup before he had taken you to your nest to calm you from your breakdown.

That was a week ago and you hadn't seen or heard from Akail ever since. Worry was eating you alive. Not necessarily because he had probably left the planet, but the possibility of him going on a hunt to let off steam. There was a reason you had taught him patience and restraint. One would make the most terrible, most irrational decisions when they were blinded by rage and would be too focused on that one thing causing that emotion than anything else. You had sent Mi'ytiar after him, but even he couldn't track down his son.

Now, all you could do was wait and hope he would come home.

While a part of you was with your eldest, wherever he was, the other part was occupied with your youngest.

"Who is my pretty little boy? Who is my lovely little boy? Hm? Who is it?" You asked in a high-pitched voice, lifted your pup up above your head, and beamed up at him when he happily squealed. "It's you!" You pulled him against your chest and smothered his little face with kisses. "So handsome. Yes you are, yes you are! My perfect baby boy."

Placing him in the crook of your arm, you lovingly looked down at him when he snatched your finger and chewed on it to his heart's content. It was something he did quite often whenever one was near his mouth. He must have started teething. At least, that was what you thought when you felt the tiny bumps in his gums. Even his mandibles had developed in the month since he was born as they were clamping down and around your finger.

"Beautiful like your daddy." You murmured against his forehead, a smile forming on your lips when Toyah responded with a shrill clicking noise. "And so, so sweet like your mei'hswei."

Your attention was solely on your pup. That way, you didn't register the sound of the door to your and Mi'ytiar's bedroom open and how someone slowly made their way over to you. Only when something large crawled on your nest over to you, did you put on a knowing grin. You really couldn't spend five minutes alone with your pup, could you?

"My love, stop it. Are you needy for attention again?" You started when you felt something bump against your shoulder and upper arm.

But when you turned your head, it wasn't Mi'ytiar's forehead that was nudging you.

"O-Oh God." You breathed out in a shaky exhale. "Akail."

A voice in the back of your head reminded you that you were still holding your pup in your hands when your fingers twitched and your arms jerked, the need to wrap them around him completely filling your mind. You quickly but gingerly placed Toyah on one of the fluffy blankets you used to tuck yourself in at night before you pulled Akail in a hug and buried your face in the side of his head. You couldn't hold back the tears of relief as you peppered the skin in reach with kisses.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where have you been?" You bombarded him with questions the second you cupped his face to pull it in front of yours to inspect every centimeter of it.

"'m sorry, Mama." was his rumbling reply and he nuzzled into your palm.

Your heart broke right then and there.

"Oh, baby…" You whispered, your voice cracking when you saw the sorrow in his eyes. "It's okay. Everything is fine."

"Hurt you." He pressed on in a low whine.

"No, it's alright. You didn't hurt me. It was an accident, simply an accident. I shouldn't have gone between you and your father." You hurried to reassure him.

Akail let out a huff and glanced over to Toyah whose eyes hadn't strayed away from you from the moment he had to leave your arms against his will. You followed his line of sight and started stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"It wasn't his fault, my little warrior." You began, hoping you could finally discourse the aggressive aversion he had towards his brother. "He had no control over the nature of life. My body was set on birthing him while he wasn't fully ready. I already suspected it when my water broke. I had premature labor pains for a week when I was carrying you, but with Toyah, it only had been two days. You had enough time to turn, he didn't."

As a response, Akail clicked his mandibles in resignation and you knew this wasn't going to be as easy as you had hoped. You had thought he would have had a change of mind when he disappeared, but apparently not.

You put on a brave smile and reached over to your pup, lifted him up in your arms, and placed him down in your lap, his tiny hands closing around each of your pointer fingers for balance as he stared up at his brother.

"Don't you want to meet your little mei'hswei?" You asked optimistically as you loosened one of Toyah's fingers from yours to reach out for Akail.

The narrowed eyes of your eldest strayed from the tiny parasite in his mother's lap to your hand and without hesitation let you grab his hand. You cautiously pulled his hand down to Toyah, careful as if he would snatch it back any moment, but when he didn't, your tense posture relaxed a little.

You looked down at the top of Toyah's head, which was fully fixed on his brother now. "Look, Toyah, look who is here."

You let go of Akail's hand, delight filling you when his hand inched closer on their own accord, and when he was finally within reach, Toyah's small fingers instantly wrapped around the finger that was closest to him. You watched how your eldest tensed up and lowly growled at him, yet the little one was hardly impressed by it and instead started chirping.

However, you weren't as indifferent as your pup and pinned him down with a warning glare.

"Akail." You hissed through gritted teeth, not wanting to agitate the baby. "He is no threat."

If he were a dog, he would have tucked his tail between his legs and pressed his ears to his head. Instead, another low whine sounded from the back of his throat for being scolded and he kept his hand in the grip of his younger brother in resignation. For someone who was pretty much a young adult, he still behaved like a little boy when he was around you.

"Do you think your father would tolerate him if he thought of him as one?" You inquired, already knowing the answer as Mi'ytiar was far more aggressive in his protectiveness towards you than Akail. "Your father delivered your brother without knowing if I would survive it or not. He did it because he knew it was my body that caused the inability of a natural birth."

You hesitated a little with your next words, not knowing if it would help the situation, but it wouldn't hurt.

"Your birth wasn't easy as well. It took us hours: me, your father and Cahrein. You may have been in the right position, but it hurt so much that I thought you would claw your way through my stomach if it took any longer. I couldn't talk, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I was slowly giving up and blacking out one too many times." You paused to watch Akail wince in shame, his body shrinking a little into itself. "But just as your father helped me with your little brother, he helped me make your birth possible and much easier. And he doesn't love you any less because he knows it was neither your or Toyah's fault."

Toyah, who was completely oblivious about the exchange, had released the grip he still had on your other finger and was now clutching another finger of Akail's hand. He was babbling, his mandibles making a high-pitched clicking noise, before he chomped down on his finger knuckles. Akail straightened his back and his head snapped down before he stared at you with a glare that said, "See! A little demon!" but you only needed to give him that look and any of his protests instantly evaporated.

You softened your scowl and gazed lovingly at Toyah when his hands were moving up to his brother's wrist, then his forearm, like he was trying to pull himself up. You looked between your boys back and forth, observing the reaction of your eldest and the attempts to climb up his brother's arm of your youngest. When Toyah seemed to slip sideways from his arm, you gasped and immediately reached out to catch him, but Akail was faster. As he kept his occupied arm taut, the other one moved at once to place his hand under Toyah's bum.

For a second, you were frozen with your hands still outstretched and only when a low purring reached your ears, you retracted them, one hand gripping the other, and pressed them to your mouth to hide a smile. Akail was actually purring when Toyah was settling on his biceps, seemingly content in his new position.

"You know, he is much smaller than you were at his age." You casually said, having to bite the inside of your cheek to keep you from squealing at the adorable sight in front of you.

Akail rumbled and you could practically see the satisfaction in his eyes at your words as he watched the pup settle where he was clinging on his arm. Even as a child, stroking his ego had always been a great way to keep him in a good mood. It seemed to work very well now, too, when the thumb of the hand that was still supporting Toyah's bottom started to caress his back.

"Were you small like this?" Akail asked you after a while of petting his brother who had lulled him to sleep.

"Yeah, probably." You hummed and moved to sit cross-legged across from him. "You remember what Mama told you about her job on Earth?"

Akail nodded. "Healer. Like Cahrein."

You laughed and absentmindedly took his hand in yours, carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping pup. "Yes, like Cahrein. I held so many babies in my arms I lost count. They were of all kinds of sizes, depending on how their mothers took care of themselves during their pregnancy. Seems like your father had spoiled me a little too much when you were still in my belly." You giggled.

"Your other pups too?" He then asked, his eyes dulling a little.

"Mine?" You raised your eyebrows in confusion.

"Ooman."

When it dawned on you what he meant, you softly cooed.

Was he actually thinking that you had…?

Your heart almost burst with overwhelming emotion as you looked at him. The face of a Yautja wasn't as capable of expressing emotion as a human. Rather, they used their voice and body language to articulate their mood. Akail, however, was still able to look like an insecure bundle of nerves at the worrying possibility that you had another, different family on your home planet. Maybe it was his human part that made it so easy to read him like a book.

"Oh, Akail. The only babies I have are you and your little brother." You were quick to dissolve his distress and scooted over to him until you were sitting right beside him, your hand cupping his jaw. "I never wanted pups with a human, my sweetling. I never thought of having one because I believed they wouldn't fit into my life. I never felt the desire to mate with a man that would ensure pups. Not that I ever wanted any with them."

Immediately, Akail felt at ease at your words and even pulled Toyah closer to him — although you believed it happened rather from his subconscious — like it was a reassuring epiphany that it was only them and no one else connected to you in this way.

"But your Papa…" You sighed with a bright smile when a powerful rush of euphoria cursed through your body at the mere thought of your Mi'ytiar. "Your Papa is the only being in the whole universe that made the idea of not having pups with him unbearable. I wanted to be connected with him in every way possible and the last thing that was missing was being the mother of his pups." Your hand reached up to his dreads, running your fingers through them when you pulled your hand down. "You and your brother are all I could ask for and I'm so incredibly happy to be your mother. So don't worry, my little warrior, you only have to share me with Toyah. And your father, of course."

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[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 08 - Sex Magic]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Jungkook x sub f.Reader

Genre: married life!AU, Wizard!Jungkook, Fantasy!AU

Kinks: love making, vaginal penetrative sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, blowjob, cunnilingus, spit, multiple orgasms (f.receiving), edging (m.receiving), praise, body worship, sex magic & toys aka he enchants a crystal wand so it becomes a vibrator, size & strength kink, cuddly aftercare

Wordcount: 7.4k

a/n: someone gave me these kinks and i went “what if KOOK was the one with magic for a change?” and then this was born. also, i say this with pride, he is 100% and proudly inspired by Howl Pendragon from Howl’s Moving Castle, like, this is basically a Howl!AU with Kook. i also wholeheartedly fell in love with this Kook oh my lORD he is so dreamy and perfect <3

Jungkook Pendragon was many a things. Healer of the sick. Protector of the weak. Traveller of worlds. Wizard of one’s trust. Lover of animals and nature. An introvert rarely happy about small talk. Connoisseur of good foods. And man of immaculate beauty. He possessed the wits and intelligence to escape many a dicey situations. His bravery and courage was known just as well as his kind and empathetic heart. His humour never stooped down to insult other people, instead it so very often came down to making a fool of himself for the sake of a good laugh. But as funny as he was, he was also serious. He was intense and stern and scary if one dared to cross him. He was powerful and those who wronged the innocent felt his strength to its fullest. 

In his daily life however, Jungkook rarely showed off his strength. He helped flowers bloom anew or lit a fire for a desperate baker, he filled the bowl of a hungry stray cat or showed curious children a harmless but wondrous magic trick. Whatever his little show of strength might be, in his daily life, Jungkook wanted to bring happiness to the living beings around him with it.

You were no exception from people he wanted to make smile. Perhaps you were the one whose happiness was most important to him. His beloved and cherished wife. Only human and terribly weak against the dangers of dark distant lands. And he loved you more than he had ever loved another before.

You lived in his hometown your whole life. You knew of his existence and the help he bore to the townsfolk. You also knew that sometimes his windows went black and that meant his house wasn’t exactly in town. He explained to you later when you and he were already lovers how it worked. That he needed to use a lever by the front door to teleport his interior and the beings inside to another place and that he possessed buildings in each place to teleport into. Some of these places you were allowed to as well, while others he kept hidden from you because they would be too dangerous. 

Sometimes you stay in town while Jungkook disappears through the door and when he returns again, he brings the stench of death and signs of a hard battle. You always nurture him back to health even if seeing his body bruised and broken from fights hurt you. 

Now back to how you met. It was five years ago when a wicked warlock cursed your cats to stone. You knew instantly to seek the wizard Jungkook Pendragon for help. Up until this point, you have only heard of him and perhaps seen him hurry through the streets in passing, and when you stood before him, you barely managed to get your words out. He was beautiful. Beautiful beyond your wildest imagination. His skin radiated in health and youth. His hair, dark as raven feathers and slightly wavy, ended just a little above his shoulders. His eyes were friendly and filled with galaxies. They were the darkest brown, but glowed purple when he used his magic. His features were ethereal and his body both strong and slim. He was taller than you and smelled of sandalwood. Back then, he smiled at you and asked what you needed and you somehow stuttered your problem. He knew exactly what to do and somehow through being yourself, you managed to catch his attention as well. It wasn’t long after, and because of some very intense romancing by him, that you and he became lovers. You married but six months after, about which your parents were very happy. You moved into his house one day after the wedding, taking your two cats and everything you owned with you. Jungkook welcomed you in his home gladly. He gave you his sunniest room and encouraged you to fill it with your most beloved hobbies. Each time you placed a thing of yours somewhere in the house, he smiled and said how much he loved it there. And over time, his home became as much your home as it was his’. He even fulfilled your dream of owning a garden, accessible through his magic door and built just for you.

Jungkook Pendragon was many of things. Wizards, healer, protector and fighter, but most of all he was your beloved husband. The man you love more than you have ever loved another person. 

Dawn has long past and the town was whispering for sleep. Jungkook hasn’t come home yet. It has been since the morning when he went through one of the bad doors. It worries you to the point you can’t find calm. The dinner is dished, cold by now, and he should be home already. The only dinner you managed to get down were your own fingernails as you bit them in nervousness. Your cats, Fili and Kili, are sleeping by the fire but you could see from their erect ears that they were nervous as well. You cannot take it anymore. Is he still alive? You have such thoughts often when he leaves through one of the bad doors. Not every country on this planet was as safe and peaceful as your homeland. Many were cursed by monsters, war or dark magic. There were other wizards like Jungkook, but not many felt courageous enough to venture beyond their own borders. Jungkook never limited his powers to borders, he went where magic was needed and while you loved him for it, you also loathed this part of him. His kindness will kill him one day. You would never dare to tell him that because it was what he needed to feel happy, but sometimes you wished that he would stop leaving through bad doors and stay with you instead. 

Speaking of doors. The number shield above the lever suddenly flicks to black. You jump up from the armchair, staring at the front door with bated breath. The doorknob turns. Please let him be unharmed, please. The door opens, allowing the stench of phosphor to enter your home. Jungkook walks over the threshold like the wind, closing the door quickly and flicking the lever back to the town. He walks upright and with lightness in his steps. His face and clothes were darkened by soot, as were his hands, but he looked unharmed. 

“What a day”, he says, shrugging off his black cape.

“Beloved!” you call out, running to jump into his arms.

“Oh?” Jungkook catches you with a laugh and his dirtied hands under your behind.

“I’m so glad that you’re home. I was so worried that you were hurt or, or worse killed”, you almost sob into his shoulder, twisting his hair to get him closer to you. 

“Worry not about me. I’m home safe.” 

“Yes? Oh Jungkook, my beloved”, you cradle his face.

Jungkook sets you down gently, holding your waist as he smiles down at you. 

“You are so dirty. Oh my beloved, are you truly unharmed?”

“Yes, I promise you this is just soot which lingered in the air. I fought and won.” 

“You will cause me heart problems one day. You’re finally home”, you say and hug him, face buried in his strong chest despite his dirtied clothes.

Jungkook hugs you back, caressing the back of your head. He leans down and kisses the crown of your head, resting his cheek on it afterwards with closed eyes. His beloved woman. He loves this part of his days the most. To return home and be greeted by your hug is truly what Jungkook does all of this for. 

“My little love”, he whispers, holding you safely, “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, so very much.” You crane your neck so you could look up at him and get on your tiptoes. Jungkook meets you in the middle, cradling your cheeks as you and he kiss. His lips taste of ash and so you pull back with a slight scowl.

Jungkook chuckles, “I know I taste awful. Let me bathe and then I will really kiss you.”

“Yes, alright. I shall warm dinner in the meantime.” 

“Oh my little love”, he whispers and kisses your forehead in gratefulness. He breaks away from you to hurry upstairs in light steps and a melody on his lips. You clean off the soot from your clothes and cheeks, hurrying to the kitchen afterwards.

Dinner is served and warm when Jungkook skips down the steps. He changed into black pants into which he tugged a white flowy shirt. His bare feet are almost silent on the many rugs spread on the wooden floor. He dances to your side, picks you up to twirl with you once. You laugh loudly, wobbling slightly when he sets you down again.

“How I missed you”, he says, hugging you close and nuzzling his face into your neck. His hands roam your body innocently, rubbing your back and waist, giving your buttocks a gentle squeeze and caressing your arms. It is as if he refuses to let go and you love it so much, melting into him if there wasn’t dinner waiting. 

He ends his loving touches by holding your waist and cradling your hand with the other, resting his forehead against yours to sway with you to melodies he hums. It is as if you were dancing.

You smile, having your eyes closed. He has such a beautiful singing voice. Sometimes when sleep comes a little harder to you, as it sometimes does to a person, Jungkook caresses your face and sings to you softly until you fell asleep. You love these nights so very much and whenever he is gone for longer than a day and you can’t fall asleep because of worry, you are damned to a sleepless night. Are have gotten so used to his singing that living without is like torture. 

“Is this a new melody? You keep humming it lately?” you whisper.

“Yes, I thought of it”, he says and singings it softly with syllables of “lalala”s. 

You join his singing harmonising with him, which makes him smile and kiss your lips. You giggle.

“Mhm, you perfect blessing you”, he says, trying to deepen the kiss but you squirm away for the sole purpose of talking. If there wasn’t dinner waiting for you and him, you would want to stay in this moment for ages.

“Dinner will be cold again if we take any more time.” 

“Mhm, you’re right.” He kisses your cheek and steps back, but keeps his hands on your waist. “What did you make?” 

“Your favourite. Potato stew with cow’s meat. The bread is fresh, from baker Yoongi. Sit down, sit down.” 

“I’m in a dream. You have no idea how much this will cheer me up tonight.” 

He sits down, earning himself a kiss to his shoulder before you sit down as well opposite of him. You break the bread, giving him the bigger piece because he always eats so much more than you when he returns from a bad door. 

You talk about your days during dinner. You tell him that you went into town for shopping and that you met your parents for some tea. He tells you about the dangers he encountered. The situation in Berking was brittle as more and more fire demons invaded the mountainous lands and threatened the livelihood of the people. Jungkook worked together with the wizard of Berking, Taehyung Emerand, but he fears that soon their shared powers won’t be enough to ward off the demons. Jungkook plans on visiting the wizard Seokjin Koral tomorrow and ask for his aid in the matter. He is positive that the wizard will help. 

You and Jungkook clean the kitchen together after dinner and because it is so late already, you decide to go to bed soon after.

It took you a while to get used to Jungkook’s bedroom. His furniture was dark and the bed most comfortable, but the room was brimming with treasures. There was no wall which wasn’t covered in trinkets or artworks and no surface which didn’t carry more trinkets or healing plants. Many of the items were of magical nature and helped Jungkook recharge when he slept. Some bore memories while others were merely of aesthetic nature. You felt overwhelmed from all the views at first, but now you loved it dearly. Every item had its home and it fit so well together with the rest. These days, there are a few of your trinkets in the collection as well, looking perfectly in place. The floor was entirely covered in colourful, expensive rugs scattered without plan. Most corners of the room, or spaces where you rarely walked, were covered in stacks of books. Tonight, Jungkook reads one of the books when you enter the bedroom in nothing but your sleeping gown. He stepped out of his pants as well, now lying in bed with a bared behind covered by the warm blanket. 

“The water was really warm tonight. I barely wanted to leave the bath.”

“Yes, it felt good on the skin. The weather gets colder here again so it’s nice to have a warm bath.”

“Yes, not long and we will have to use the thicker blanket. I can’t wait, I love this blanket”, you say, getting comfortable under the covers. 

Jungkook lowers the book and places his hand on the side of your head so he could caress you gently. You gaze up at him, head the only thing sticking out from under the blanket. The light of the night lamp illuminates his face in warm colour, his dark hair falls in soft waves. Looking at him will never not make your heart flutter.

“Please don’t die far away from me, Jungkook Pendragon.”

“Oh beloved, you worry too much”, Jungkook speaks softly, massaging your ear soothingly. 

“Please just promise me.”

“I promise you. I shall grow old until I look like a raisin and then die in your arms.” 

You snicker, making him smile with it. 

“Yes, I can accept that.”

He chuckles, booping your nose. 

“You’re too cute.” 

He picks up the book and continues where he left off. You continue where you left off too, which is staring at his face to make sure that he was truly back with you again. 

“What are you reading?” you ask him, fingers tracing the side of his thigh mindlessly under the blanket.

“Spells I might need tomorrow. If Seokjin wants to leave for Berking right away, I want to be prepared.”

“So you will fight again tomorrow?” 

Jungkook lowers the book, meeting your eyes.

“Hey, little love”, he brushes his hand over your temple soothingly, “don’t worry about me. Nothing will happen to me, I promise.”

“You made a promise about raisins.”

“And I intend to keep it”, he says, scratching your scalp softly so your thoughts could calm down. He continues petting you like this as he gets lost in the book again, using magic to float it in front of him and flick the pages. 

What if you won’t ever see him again? Jungkook wants you to calm down and find sleep, but you can’t. You could lose him tomorrow. He could be gone, leaving you alone with no arms to lie in and no person to call home. If this moment wasn’t so tranquil, you would be crying. Instead you look at his face to memorise every inch of it just in case. 

Jungkook soon glances at you. 

“Try to sleep, beloved” he whispers, brushing his fingers over your lids gently to close them. 

“I can’t. I’m worried about tomorrow.”

“Don’t, I will return back to you.” Jungkook lies down on his side, kissing your forehead as he holds you close. “Try to sleep, beloved, please try to sleep.”

“I can’t. I want to look at you longer.” 

“Do I have to tire you, mhm?” 

Your lids flutter, as does your heart. Jungkook smiles sweetly, pinching your cheek and kissing it.

“Try to sleep, yes?” he whispers before sitting back up to return to the book. 

You continue to stare. His words made you desperate for him. You didn’t even think of this yet. If you lose him, you will also lose the intimacy. 

Jungkook is many a things. Wizard, healer, saviour, husband. And he is also the most attentive lover. You knew some intimacy before Jungkook, but truly got to know it through him. He waited after your wedding, of course he did. As a matter of fact, he was such a gentleman, that he didn’t even kiss you before you were officially his wife for he didn’t want to spoil your honour. The first kiss you shared was during the wedding ceremony and then later at night, Jungkook kissed you properly, sealing your shared fate. He couldn’t get enough of you and you couldn’t get enough of him. It always feels so good to be intimate with him. What if tonight is the last night to share this feeling? 

“Beloved?”

Jungkook sighs and looks at you, “why are you still up? Look at you, you seem so tired already.” 

“I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

“You are, little love, you are. In sleep as well.”

“Not yet, I have a wish.”

He places the book aside and lies down on his side, drawing calming circles on your upper back. His eyes are filled with so much love, his face looks constantly happy when he looks at you.

“Tell me your wish.”

“Can we love each other tonight? If you don’t return tomorrow, I want to have something to think back fondly on.”

Jungkook swallows the words he actually wanted to speak, that your worries were for nought and that you should sleep, when he sees how much you truly needed this tonight. He smiles with his eyes and kisses the shell of your ear.

“Of course, my beloved. We can love each other.” 

“Really?” 

"Yes, of course. I missed you today. Loving you like this, would make me very happy.”

“It would make me happy too. Jungkook, my beloved.” You touch his chest. “Can I taste you?” 

“You.” He gulps, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You would want this?” 

“Yes. A lot.”

“I, I want it as well.” 

You sigh his name. He cradles your cheek.

“But first I need to kiss you. Truly kiss you.”

You meet him eagerly, fingers burying themselves deep in his soft hair and lips so ready to be claimed. Jungkook smiles into the kiss because of your eagerness, purring softly while his hand pulls you closer by your waist. He puts his other arm under your head, placing his hand on your shoulder. Naturally and happily, you drape your leg over his hips, breaking the kiss to whisper.

“This feels so good.” 

“It does, my beloved. I love holding you.” 

The kiss continues. Your hearts beat in sync, your lips dance perfectly together. How you both needed this tonight. He missed you all day, looking forward to the moment he was finally with you again. You missed him as well, worrying for his safety and healing now that he was kissing you again. 

You remember the first night he properly kissed you. You laid under him, cradled in his strong arms and with your breath stolen by him. It has been years ever since and it still feels as exciting as it did back then. Perhaps even more exciting because your love for each other grew over the years. Familiarity, intimacy, connection replaced the once thrilling feeling of learning each other and with it allowed your love to blossom. Being known and knowing in return is much better than getting know, it truly is. Jungkook knows that you love it most when he uses his tongue to trace your lips. You know that he gets especially excited when you run your nails over his scalp. You use your knowledge tonight, soon turning the kiss from gentle to just a little starved. You moan first, Jungkook answers you instantly, hand gripping your thigh to tug you closer. His hold on you is gentle but desperate. The hardness poking your middle shows his hunger even better. You and he both know that you needed to end this kiss in order to continue.

It breaks with shaky breaths leaving the both of you. You can’t stop looking at him. He reciprocates, starry eyes racing between yours. His fingers brush your cheek, his whisper comes oh so very quietly.

“I love you with the very essence of my soul, ___ Pendragon.” 

“I love you with every breath I draw, Jungkook Pendragon.”

He exhales shakily, resting his forehead against yours. You and he close your eyes.

“My little love….” 

For a brief second, you enjoy the moment of connection. You are both aroused yet want to take time to truly savour each other. Being naked and getting it done quickly is easy, but what truly makes intimacy with him so wonderful is that you equally want to take your time. You savour the connection, the moments your souls are intertwined and your hearts are one.

“I feel so good”, you breathe.

“I feel so good, too”, he whispers.

“I want you.”

“I want you too, so very much that my hand…” he dances it to your behind and gives it a gentle squeeze, “...wants to act up.”

You giggle, he chuckles. 

“You’re just being cheeky.”

“Mhm, I am. It makes you laugh.” 

“Oh beloved you”, you break the connection by gently pushing him to his back. He moves gladly, breath quickening at what was to come. You peck his lips first, then lie down on your stomach, draping your arm over his waist. You feel up his chest slowly, gazing at his face. His heart races uncontrollably. 

“You’re beautiful”, you say and rest your cheek on his chest, scrunching your face in a love drunk smile. And as you rest, your hand rubs him slowly, memorising how it feels to touch him. “My strong love and yet you are still so soft.” 

Jungkook smiles, brushing his hand down your cheek. With a giggle and scrunch of your nose you lift yourself again to kiss him over the shirt. Your hands and fingers guide your lips, painting a picture of him in your memories. His strong yet comfortable chest, which is so perfect to hide in, his delicate collarbones, on which necklaces always sit so prettily, his tender neck which always smells so good and his strong shoulders, which are perfect to lean on, his even stronger arms which give the best hugs and then you take the path back. You brush your lips over his nipples, making him sigh softly, but you don’t linger. You need to kiss his stomach next, which is so strong but also so soft when he lies with you. You hug him and rest your cheek on it.

“You are so soft, you really are.” 

Jungkook chuckles but sighs soon after. He feels so warm inside. If this is how he can spend the night before battle, he is one lucky man. Quite frankly, he is the luckiest man who ever lived. He is married to you after all. 

It so happens that you soon reach the edge of the blanket. You glance at his face briefly. His eyes are closed. So it will be a surprise. Good. You love surprising him.

You push the blanket down to the middle of his thighs carefully and slip his shirt up to his lower stomach, exposing his hardened length. You keep one arm still around his waist, using it to support some of your weight as you lower your starving mouth to his length. He fits between your lips as if he was molded just for you. 

Jungkook gasps loudly, hand falling to the nape of your neck and fingers ever so slightly dimpling your skin. His hips twitch up, his length throbs on your tongue. The surprise was successful. How exciting. 

You moan and begin moving. You concentrate on his tip, using both your tongue and lips to taste him. He is sensitive where he leaks and around his frenulum, so you switch between these two spots, listening to the sweet moans he releases in reaction. His hand is still on your neck, grasping it and when he doesn’t, he gives you gentle rubs of gratefulness. 

You lick his taste from his slit, purring in answer to his gasped moans. You enjoy his taste a lot. At first, you were surprised by how he tasted down there. You always expected it to be different flavoured, more like milk to match the look of it, but that isn’t so. It is masculine when he is deeply aroused and sweet when he ate lots of fruit and sometimes it carries a hint of salt in its taste but most of all, it tasted like him. And you loved this flavour so much that you find yourself drooling all over him right now. You slurp it up, picking up what you can’t swallow with your fingers to spread it on his lower inches in a deep and skilful massage.

“Beloved this is…” He groans deeply, kicking the mattress as you force his legs to be restless. “...a lot. Ah mmhhgm.”

What an exciting reaction. Your stomach flutters and your wetness grows between your legs. You sink him between your lips, keeping them relaxed so they move as you suck him. You press the flat of your tongue against his length, moving your head in the same rhythm you move your hand.

“Beloved ah”, he gasps, fingers digging into your tender neck desperately. He kicks the sheets, bucking his hips up afterwards. 

Encouraged by his reactions, you pick up speed and depth, drooling down his length without bothering to swallow it. 

Jungkook moans loudly, hand dropping from your neck to reach up and grab the corner of his pillow. He cannot decide whether to keep his eyes closed or gawk at the ceiling in disbelief. He also cannot decide whether to dig his head into the pillow or lift it in surprise. Neither can he decide whether to gasp or moan. Perhaps he does all of these things. With no pattern behind them. They just happen and happen while you suck his very soul out of his length. He feels it in every inch of his cock, feels it in his balls as well. It burns like fire and consumes the very same. It spread to his stomach by now, lingering as a warm, tight knot. It consumed his legs as well, rendering them useless and tingly as if millions of fire ants crawled over them. 

He might release in your mouth if he wasn’t careful. It would feel so good and you would love it so much, but he can’t. If you want tonight to truly be memorable, he wants to do it the right way. He wants to look into your eyes as he lets go and feel your fingers grasp his arms as you feel it coat your walls. 

You moan around him, head pounding in pleasure. You love to have him in your mouth. It shouldn’t feel that good to have something hit your throat over and over again but it does. You love him inside so much that you feel no need to gag or choke, only the need to consume him more and more.

“Stop it now”, Jungkook however stops you, sliding his hand to your chin to gently pry you off his length. “Stop or you will make me release.”

You slip off begrudgingly, turning your head to look at him. Your lips are puffy and glossy, your eyes are hazy. Jungkook feels thoughtless at the view of you, except for one thought. 

“Oh you, let me kiss you”, he gets out and pulls you up to him so he could do just that. You whimper, melting into him instantly. You don’t mind anymore that he stopped you from tasting his orgasm, not when he kisses you so hungrily. He flips your position, claiming the emptiness between your legs with his hips. Only the thin fabric of your sleeping gown keeps you from connecting deeper. 

“Oh you…perfect woman. You felt so good I feared for my heart. Oh you…”

Jungkook tastes himself on your lips and tongue as he kisses you. It makes him want to kiss you even more, even better, even longer. Not just your lips. Everywhere. Your beautiful face, which he always thinks of for happiness when times are hard, your tender neck so soft and smelling always so good, your collarbones which are prettiest when sunlight hits them, your shoulders which sometimes get stiff but which relax so easily when he rubs them, your arms which are the only home he will ever have, your chest which is rather precious to handle. He palms your breasts and gathers them carefully so he could kiss them over the thin fabric. His warmth seeps into your skin like this, drawing gasps from your lips. He feels so good on your body.

“You are the living proof that the creator is an artist. She carved you from the very soils of beauty, my beloved”, he breathes, lips ghosting over your tender nipples without ever deepening the touch. That is the task of another night, he needs to worship every inch of you. Your sides which he loves to hold and gently tickle because it makes you laugh, your upper stomach which tenses whenever he makes you belt in laughter, your stomach which is so soft. So soft. Jungkook finds himself sinking his head into it and sighing your name. 

He gazes up at you, holding your sides.

“I’m home when I’m with you, ___ Pendragon.” 

You ruffle his hair, smiling at him.

“You’re my home too.” 

Jungkook sighs happily, lifting his head to continue his path. He wiggles under the blanket and lifts your gown, sticking his head under it. You gawk with bated breath, waiting for his wet tongue between your folds. 

It never comes, instead he places dozens and dozens of kisses on each of your inner thighs, drawing a sigh from your lips. You prop your legs up all on your own, getting his hands on your upper hips outside the gown. You can hold them like this and you do, grabbing one finger per hand as he kisses a path closer and closer to your heat. 

Jungkook bends the fingers you hold, letting you know that he was holding you back. The warmth between your folds hits you a second later, surprising you so greatly that you squeak and close your legs on his head.

“Mhm.” He lifts his mouth, “forgive me. Too far?”

“No, no sorry. I startled, that’s all. Please more”, you stutter, opening your legs.

“I will be gentle, I promise my beloved”, he says and sticks his tongue out to part your petals with it. You squeeze the fingers you hold, moaning his name. 

Jungkook closes his eyes, releasing a breath of utter relief. He loves to be between your legs. You offer him such heaven. You are soft and tender and so warm. When he excites you, your warmth begins to smell so intensely feminine and addicting that Jungkook becomes droopy. And your taste. Oh, your taste. Jungkook loves every drop of it. You become sweeter the more aroused you get and your nectar changes from thicker to more liquid. You are already so wet tonight from pleasuring him that Jungkook can’t decide where to linger. Your entrance, your petals or your clit. All of it gets traced and licked by his eager tongue. He can picture you in his mind when he does it. How you open up like the prettiest flower, how there are the first then the second petals revealing your warm depth and presenting your swollen clit.

“You’re beautiful, so beautiful” he murmurs into you and includes his lips as well. He sucks and kisses you, forcing your voice to raise in pitch as he makes you moan constantly. 

Your legs are shaky and it feels as if millions of ants were crawling under your skin, just how you made him feel. The same warmth is in your stomach as well, tight and deep inside you, hiding almost. 

You mewl and tug at his finger. Jungkook comes up with a slurp, appearing from your gown. His raven hair is messy, his rosy lips glossy. 

“Was I too rough?” he asks with worried eyes.

“No, your fingers please, your fingers.” 

“Ah, I understand”, he smiles and sticks his two longest into his mouth to coat them in a good layer of his spit. He slides his other hand to your inner thigh and opens your legs further with a gentle tug. 

You whimper in reaction, fingers grasping the sheets. To be gazed upon by him as he pleasures you is so arousing to you. He is looking at your face, watching your reaction as you take his digits.

The stretch is unbearable, not because it hurts, but because it feels too good. He is so careful in how he fills you, gliding in inch by inch. 

You whimper, face contorting in pleasure. Warm. You are so warm now that you are finally filled. 

“So beautiful. You are so beautiful”, Jungkook says and disappears inside your gown again to lick you eagerly. He traces your stuffed folds first, moaning deeply at the feeling of it. He can’t wait to exchange his fingers with his length. For now however, he wants to help you to an orgasm with just his fingers and tongue. He curls them deep inside you, pressing them against your upper walls right where it felt best. A gasp from you. Jungkook guides his tongue to your clit and presses it against you tightly to use the pressure and wet warmth to rub it with his tongue. The gasp turns into a moan. And another. Then another blending into a constant stream of noises as he gives you pleasure so intense you can see light behind your lids. 

You twist the sheets and tug on them, head buried deep in the pillow and back arched off the mattress. Your toes curl, gripping the sheets. The once quiet warmth in your lower body turns into a raging, all consuming fire. His fingers fill you entirely, the pressure on your insides is perfect and his slickened tongue is so strong in its grinds. He will make you climax. It is inescapable. 

“I have to orgasm”, you get out, whimpering his name next.

Jungkook encourages you to let go with a hungry growl, sealing your fate. 

You throw your head back and break screaming his name. Jungkook moans, tingling with you as he helps you ride it out until you pull away all by yourself. 

Jungkook licks his fingers clean before reappearing from your gown, lower face messy in your orgasm and his drool. 

“Beloved”, you croak, reaching for him. He lies himself down on you, meeting you in the middle for a kiss. You whimper and twitch, grasping him desperately as you use his kisses as your remedy. He left you so shaken from your high, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You are alive when you can be with him this way. 

You break the kiss with a wish on your lips, “can I feel your skin on mine?” 

“Yes, of course. This would be everything to me”, he says and sits up to pull his shirt over his head. You do the same with your gown. You and he stay seated afterwards, gazing at each other.

“You’re beautiful”, you say, tracing his pecs. 

“You are just as beautiful”, he breathes and hugs you against him.

You instantly melt, eyes closing and skin taking in every second of contact it has with him. He is so warm and soft. He is the same temperature as you and yet he feels so much warmer than you. Like your only heat source in a cold room.

“I want to be with you.”

“You will be, I promise. Do you want to lie down for it?”

“Yes, very.” 

While you lie down, he disappears from your side for a brief moment to get a small wand of pure emerald, then claims his spot between your legs again. He intertwines his right hand with yours, resting on his elbows. He uses his left hand to cradle your cheek and caress it. His eyes gaze at you with so much love that you feel breathless.

“You’re beautiful.” 

“You’re beautiful too.”

“No, but you are truly so beautiful”, he whispers and furrows his brows as his emotion overwhelm him. “Oh my beloved. I will be gentle with you, I promise.” 

“Whatever you promise, please just hurry. I need you inside me. Please.”

“Help me, yes?” 

You reach down with your left hand and take his length to guide it to your entrance. You give him a gentle push and then he takes over, filling you with him in a careful push of his hips. 

Your breath hitches, you grasp his shoulder and squeeze his hand. He furrows his brows, eyes clouding over in pleasure.

“Is this good for you? Are you in pain?”

You shake your head vigorously and squeeze his shoulder as well.

“And now? I feel you tightening. Is it too much so soon after your orgasm?” 

“I’m tightening because it feels so good”, you croak and roll your hips up to take the last inch.

Jungkook moans your name, dropping his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut. A curse slips from his lips, “forgive me”, he instantly apologises.

“Don’t. I agree. Damn it. Ah beloved, I love you.”

“I love you too”, Jungkook chokes out and kisses you, beginning to chase your warmth in deep but gentle movements. You swallow each other’s initial moan. Jungkook slips his hand from your cheek and grasps the pillow instead, holding it with the kind of desperate strength he wouldn’t dare to hold you in fear of hurting you. But he has to hold something like this. The tingling fire in his legs and stomach is back, his length feels even better than it did when it was being sucked by you. If he didn’t grasp something, he would go insane. He regrets not releasing in your mouth when he had the chance because he is paying the price now. 

Jungkook breaks the kiss, drool still sticking to your lips and his.

“I’m so sensitive. Every stroke feels like coming alive. I should have released in your mouth, ah beloved, ahmh it’s…you’re driving me insane.” 

“Is it too much?” 

“Almost, I’m burning up. It feels…”

“It feels so good”, you whimper.

“That’s right, it feels so good”, he agrees and moans, length so deep inside you that you swear you can feel his soul reach into you. 

You gaze up at him through your blurry vision. He is so close to you but you see enough. His pleasure twisted face, his messy hair, his flushed cheeks.

“You are so beautiful right now, so beautiful.” 

“You are…beauti…ful…too”, he struggles with his words, following it up with a growl and his fingers slipping from your grasp to instead grip your wrist and pin it into the pillow. He does it carefully, unlike how he twists the pillow. 

“My beloved, it’s so difficult not to break you. Are you still comfortable?” 

“Yes, please.”

“Oh my little love, my warm soft love… it takes everything inside me not to ruin you.”

You clench around him, arching your back. To be underneath him, to be so fragile and weak in comparison to him and to be treated with such utter tenderness because of it, is driving you insane as well. 

You reach between your bodies and touch your clit. 

“Ah!”

Jungkook peels his eyes open at the sound. His hips stop.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he gasps, worried.

“Yes, yes. Please move.”

“Oh my love, what a relief. You are just so small and tender. I worried that I hurt you for a second.” 

“Jungkook, please”, you beg him, gazing up at him pleadingly. You wiggle your hips, trying to give yourself more pleasure with quick rubs of your clit.

“No, wait. I have something for you.” 

“What?” you ask breathlessly, craving more of what he did.

He sits up, cock still inside you, and reaches for the emerald wand. He closes his fist around it and whispers an enchantment over it. It looks normal afterwards and feels warm as he places it in your hand. 

“What did you do to it?”

“Tap it once.” 

You follow. The wand begins vibrating in your fingers, “oh?” 

“For you. It will last for a day. Tap it again and it will increase gradually, tap it twice and it will stop.” 

“This is so…” 

“Place it on your clit.” 

You obey in curiosity, sitting up slightly in shock upon the initial sensation. 

“Jungkook”, you croak, walls throbbing around him.

“Does this feel good?” 

“Yes”, you mewl, nodding your head vigorously.

“Good. Use it whenever you need it.” 

Jungkook pushes you down gently and with a knowing smile, lays himself back down over you to pick up where he left off. 

You gasp and writhe, gawking at him with widened eyes. He soothes you with gentle caresses of your temples and cheeks.

“Isn’t that nice?” 

“-ice”, you manage to squeak out because then you are unable to speak, scrunching your face up and grasping his arm. 

“You are so beautiful, my beloved. I love you so much”, he moans, head dizzy because of this situation. 

You are writhing under him, hips bucking up to chase him and walls so tight around his length it is almost impossible not to orgasm. Giving you pleasure, making you feel good, is his biggest pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well, you are so beautiful, so beautiful…”

Jungkook grits his teeth and angles his hips differently to stimulate your sensitive spots. He keeps his length buried inside you for it, drawing circles. 

You inhale loudly, reaching above you to twist the pillow. Your eyes spill tears because of the intensity with which he pleasures you. You have never felt like this before. The wand gives you shakes you truly cannot control. His length has never felt so filling before, so big and ever consuming. It is as if you are giving him your very soul right now. 

“Jungkook”, his name leaves you in a desperate keen as you kick the sheets.

“Don’t hold back, I will follow. I promise you, my little love.” 

He breaks you into a million pieces just as he patches you back up again at the same time. You thought that you screamed in bed before, but you hadn’t. This is a true scream of pleasure, one so utterly soul bearing that Jungkook feels his eyes cross and roll back before he orgasms so deep inside you, he feels your walls quiver in reaction. 

You and he ride out your shared highs in messy thrusts and rolls of your hips, falling in each other’s arms afterwards to kiss sloppily. The emerald lies in the sheets, still vibrating but without use. Your fingers are in his hair, he cradles your face.

“I love you, I love you, I love you”, he chants and you answer him with the very same words over and over and over again until your breath runs out and you need to catch it together.

You stay close, rubbing your noses together gently.

“How are you feeling? Was I too rough?” he asks.

“You were perfect. You felt so good. I, I never experienced such sensations before”, you say.

“I know. You screamed. I never heard you scream like this before. My beloved, my eyes actually crossed because of it. I never felt my orgasm so intensely before.”

“Me neither. It was as if you were trying to crawl into me.” 

“And for me it was as if you wanted to consume me whole.”

You and he giggle, hugging each other. 

“You are going to drive me insane one day, ___ Pendragon.”

“Good. When the day comes, I will become mad with you, Jungkook Pendragon.”

He smiles, hiding his face in your neck. 

“Good. I can accept that.”

“It is decided then. We will become two mad raisins.”

He laughs, lifting his head to get lost in your eyes. 

“Promise. We will become two mad raisins together. My precious, beloved love”, he whispers, cradling your cheek.

[pshenyasstuff]

Headcanons for relationships with Billy Kid

This is my purely subjective opinion, you may disagree with me. I don't have enough content on this guy (i obsessed with him), so I decided to make it myself.

He's definitely the type of guy who is always ready to support his girlfriend like some kind of cheerleader like "THIS IS MY GIRLFRIEND!! TEAR THEM ALL UP, BEAUTY!"

Expect a lot of talk about his favorite show, he will show you absolutely every poster and figurine, tell you how he acquired it and the like

And of course he will call himself your Starlight Knight

His gifts are often like this.. random. You never expect what he can give. One time it's some kind of cute trinket, and the next time it's a weapon 😨 (of course so that his beloved can stand up for herself)

But he doesn't really mind if you're a pacifist or just don't want to hurt someone. He is always happy to protect you, while of course showing off in all sorts of ways. "Babe, are you watching? I did a great job on them, didn't I??"

He's as clingy as possible, I'm serious. He loves hugging so much that hugging at every meeting with him will be something ordinary for you. It's just one of his ways of expressing sympathy

I'm 100% sure he's styling his hair. Or they are always like that. In any case, they are as soft as possible.

I'm not sure if he feels the touch. Let's assume that he feels it quite a bit

Despite this, he always tries to count the power to touch you

Oh yes, he definitely likes to carry his beloved on his arms, back and shoulders. He especially likes to walk around the city like this or run away from enemies with you, because he is an cyborg, much faster than your human legs, just let him treat you like his lady :D

The poor guy is sometimes so upset because he doesn't have lips. I mean, how can he then give his beloved more love?? In any case, he finds a way out of the situation and just rests his faceplate on the place where he wants to kiss you. Too cute

He definitely giggles stupidly when you initiate all this romantic stuff. Did you kiss him yourself? I swear, he lifts one leg like a girl and can't stop giggling in love

His nicknames are so sweet to you, sometimes banal, but it's cute. (Lady, sweetheart, princess, love of my life, beloved)

Each of your mornings together will begin with his speech. He will absolutely always wake up earlier, if he is sleeping at all, of course. Let's say it goes into sleep mode for a set time. "Yo, yo, yo, wake up, sleepyhead!"

Cooking? No, and again no, bro does not know how to cook, he buys you ready-made food, because he does not need it himself

He always likes to make you laugh, he is infinitely glad to see you happy :)

He definitely likes the idea of paired things. Even the bracelet you gave him will always be worn (until he loses it)

You rarely quarrel, I think, but if it happens, he always apologizes first

Don't give him a plant or a pet, they'll just die 😭

He likes to sing for you, even if it's not quite perfect and the ears of others wither from his singing

He will immediately ask to exchange numbers or social networks. What for? To send you his photos and silly messages if you are not around, of course. He definitely uses a lot of emojis

He likes to arrange a movie night with you. Of course, you'll be watching mostly his favorite show. He watches it so often that at one point he will just say lines along with the characters

He likes to lie on your lap at such moments or just hold hands, because it's romantic in his understanding

Thanks for reading <3

[sookats]

★ — you’re my…..ᐟ

⤷ pet names the dream members call you <3

⌗ ft .∿ dream ot7 x reader

⌗ genre + warnings .∿ fluff + no warnings

⌗ trini’s note .∿ this is a re upload from my deleted blog ! also a bonus nickname at the end :)

⤹ ⊹ mark lee .ᐟ

✶ baby/babe; a classic but it’s a regular that mark calls you. at first he’ll give you a nickname derived from your name but then he’ll add “baby” at the end. but then later on, he becomes used to calling you baby, cause you really are his baby, his love, his everything. also, he’ll use those two (interchangeably) to get anything out of you, don’t be fooled. mad at him? “c’mon babe”. in a sour mood? “baby what’s wrong?”. he’ll use those names to his last breath cause he knows how it can get to you. your face flaring, cheeks poking out; you try to put on a poker face but you and mark both know that pet names from him are your kryptonite

⤹ ⊹ huang renjun .ᐟ

✶ honey; renjun himself genuinely doesn’t know why he calls you this but he loves it. then again, it describes you and your love for him a lot — sweet, enduring, and never ending. even on his worst days, your love makes him see the good before he begins to spiral. when he shows signs of exhaustion, it’s your love that eases him. whether it be holding his hand or telling him words of encouragement, it helps him more often than he wants to admit

⤹ ⊹ lee jeno .ᐟ

✶ pretty; oh jeno’s favorite compliment to give you but also his favorite nickname of yours. he use it so much, he rarely uses your name at this moment, he’ll just call you pretty to get your attention (i.e pretty girl, pretty boy, pretty person, etc). nothing excites jeno more than seeing you smile from his nickname, it makes his heart jump when he sees the warming smile you give him or when you call him pretty as well. sometimes the two of you would get into a compliment war to see who’s the prettiest. for about twenty minutes all you hear is, “you’re so pretty” “you’re prettier”

⤹ ⊹ lee haechan .ᐟ

✶ angel; please do not be fooled by this nickname being said by haechan. don’t get me wrong, he always says it out of endearment BUT he also says to get himself out of trouble. he calls you “angel” when he knows he did something wrong or just to see how long you can last without reacting to that nickname. then again, this sly man knows you won’t last too long when he pairs “angel” with a kiss. a quick peck on the neck after calling you that and you’re already weakening. he can’t help that he wholeheartedly believes that you’re an angel, you’re his angel <3

⤹ ⊹ na jaemin .ᐟ

✶ princess; it’s jaemin’s favorite word to say at this point. similarly to mark, he started with using a nickname from your name but then added princess to it. “princess n/n” would be something he used quite often at the start of your relationship. later on, he began to use only “princess”, it’s such a fun nickname to use on you and please don’t hate that nickname cause jaemin will use it to strike a nerve. but other than that, he thinks it’s very fitting for someone like you. someone who can be elegant and poised but also kind hearted for others and themselves

⤹ ⊹ zhong chenle .ᐟ

✶ beloved; something about calling you this nickname brings a sort of satisfaction to chenle. but it blooms more of this satisfaction into chenle when you call him this nickname. it seems like all his troubles are gone and nothing else matters when you call him, “my beloved.” all of a sudden flowers are blooming bright as day and the birds sing a melody that could make spring days be eternal. likewise, he feels like this nickname brings a sort of intimacy as well :)

⤹ ⊹ park jisung .ᐟ

✶ my love; there’s no other way to describe you other than being his love, his lover at that. he loves that there’s no other adjective in front of “love” when he calls you that name ‘cause there’s nothing else but love. it’s not simple love, not tough love, just love, your love. your love that he has been entrusted with and wants to enjoy forever <3. in the beginning of the relationship he would use it ever so often to see how you would react but after some time, that’s all he calls you, “my love.” jisung’s way of saying, “you’re perfect” :)

⤹ ⊹ bonus .ᐟ

✶ doll; you’re nothing but ethereal beauty that goes beyond what any of the boys has ever seen. mostly used by all of the boys but jeno, jaemin, and mark use it the most

౨ৎ oh to have jisung call me a doll and jaemin call me his pretty princess. I’d MELTTTTTT

౨ৎ feedback is always welcome :)

kisses to you all and God bless you 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝟦𝗎. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[koocycle]

over wine; chapter one (j.jk)

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

word count. 37.8k (it’s gotten out of hand)

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

warnings. mild cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive and mature themes including the following: unprotected sex, spanking, choking, dom!jk, oral (f. receiving) mirror sex and car sex. 

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist

one, two, three

author’s note. oh my god. to say i have written for a lifetime and got nothing in me anymore, would be an understatement. (kidding. i’ve got an entire series to finish) no but, to actually be able to finish this part of the series and publish it with pride is such a milestone for me. for over a year, i’ve been drafting and drafting, deleting documents and rewriting them, moving from concept to concept, pausing and swearing i’d never write another word again. really, i’m dramatic like that. and i want to take this little note as a thank you to @latetaektalk who’s been hearing me bitch over this for so long. who’s been reading draft after draft and even when she’s busy, was sulking about the fact that she was too busy to read it. but future doctors don’t read silly fics linh!!! they just scream whenever their friends scream and hop off to biology (?) class. i’m very thankful & proud.

OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the “reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen”, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck right now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘‘Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you…you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

‘‘I get it, okay?’’ He finally says, now at the edge of his seat as well. ‘‘It sucks to sit here and be confronted on issues that we can’t seem to work out ourselves, but we’re trying to crawl out of whatever hellhole this is. At least I am. Some cooperation would be appreciated.”

You don’t argue back as fast as he expects you to. ‘‘I’m trying, too.’’ You don’t stutter, you don’t fidget with your fingers and you sure as hell never break eye contact with the man. You never do when you defend yourself against your husband, and Jungkook has always admired how firm your feet are planted to the ground. Though when you’re wrong, then he’s the one who must be right. ‘‘She doesn’t fit our needs. Stick your head out of the sand and try to see what I see, Kook.’’

‘‘She doesn’t fit?’’ Jungkook’s brows pull together in frustration, defensively resting his palms on his inner thighs and causing his arms to crook. ‘‘What? Because we’re not a match or because you can’t stand it when you’re not winning?’’

‘‘What is this, the fucking Olympics?’’ You scowl, impulsively copying Jungkook’s defensive form. ‘‘I don’t need to win a damn thing. Look at where we got ourselves,’’ angry hands fly in the air and fall back down your lap with a loud slap. ‘‘We’re already losing with a therapist like her. You and I both.’’

‘‘You can’t just sit here and suck these theories out of your thumb, ___, we’re no kids no more. Stop acting like we know that woman,’’ Jungkook cries out, accusing finger-pointing your way. ‘‘You just can’t stand the fact that Seulgi is actually doing her damn job and isn’t blindly taking your side. Is it really that hard of a pill for you to swallow?’’

‘‘She’s blindly taking your side.’’ You spit back and your husband can only respond with a humorless chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. ‘‘The minute we step into this room, every fucking time, I’m painted as the clown. I’m the damn joke. Forced to listen to the way she’s putting you on a pedestal as she’s digging me deeper into the ground like there aren’t two sides of the story. Why is your first response telling me to shove it? You’re being a real asshole right now.’’

‘‘I never told you to shove it. Don’t put words in my mouth.’’ He attempts to say with a bit more composure but you can see the fire in his sharp eyes all the same way. Pierced lip curling in to hold himself back from saying all the wrong things. ‘‘I’m trying to be the rational one here.’’

‘‘Rational? You don’t need many words for it to be obvious.’’

‘‘Damn it, ___.’’ He curses and his fingers fall to rub at his temples, elbows digging into his thighs. You always got your word ready to spit back in his face. ‘‘Why don’t you just go home if you’re so unhappy? I’ll do this by myself if you’re really going to be this childish.’’

It feels like a slap in the face when his words work through, while it doesn’t sting and only seems to work you up with immense rage. Blood fast to rush to your head. You’re not sure what it is that’s keeping you from defending yourself. Knowing you, you’re not one to let accusations like these slide that easily, and neither is Jungkook. Maybe you expect him to apologize as far as your husband is able to. As long as his pride doesn’t tumble to the ground and shatters into pieces. You don’t know, maybe you expect him to at least take his word back while he looks you in the eye again.

It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t.

Jungkook’s head tilts when he hears the rumbling in your mini bag, watching your manicured hand dig through your belongings. ‘‘What are you looking for?’’

Your lips purse together again at the sound of his voice. ‘‘My phone,’’ you say shortly before you pull out the device. Long, almond-shaped stiletto’s tap against the screen and it is the only sound that’s creating much of a suspense. ‘‘To call a cab, I mean. You think I’m walking home in these heels?’’

‘‘Really?’’ he states more than he asks, sending him to the very edge. ‘‘You’re actually going home.’’

Your phone is already to your ear when you stand up from your spot on the sofa, Valentino Garavani falling in the crook of your arm as you straighten your dress. Heavy lidded eyes surf back to his dumbfounded state. ‘‘That’s what you told me to do?”

‘‘You know that’s not what I fucking wanted.’’ Jungkook scowls. ‘‘Seulgi’s gonna be back any minute now.’’

‘‘Good. Tell her I said hi.’’ And with those last bitter words slipping off your tongue, you leave him astonished in the luxury office with his hands reaching for his hair.

You’ve never been an easy one, Jungkook has been told by various people since the start of your relationship. But neither has he ever been a goody two shoes. Whether the both of you could handle each other, even after all these years of tough practice, might be a totally different story.

It was in college when Jungkook first realized he caught the most beautiful gem in the jeweler's inventory. Fresh into his first year as a finance major, entering his twenties and living life to the fullest in a brand new world that consisted of sex and alcoholic beverages to explore. Jungkook has always been a big dreamer, even back then. A real go-getter. One who used to scribble down achievable five-year plans at that marked page in his notebook, in that awful handwriting anybody could barely read. It was quite funny, considering you weren’t a part of the initial plan before you said yes to a single date with him. But when you finally became Jungkook’s girl to kiss, to fuck and to admire, he knew he could easily squeeze you in that plan. Jungkook wanted you for life. He knew so from the start. He was the one who dreamed of moving out of the city and into a large house in the beauties of suburbia, surrounded by a white picket fence, a little family and two guard dogs on the side. He wanted it all with you. You were his dream girl.

Jungkook was never one to shy away when it came to you. He was yours, and you were his. It was just the way it was supposed to be and everybody had the right to know. Jungkook was most proud to call you his when curious eyes easily swayed your way across campus. It happened every time you came to pick him up from class. Your perfectly pin-straight styled hair fell down your perfect face all the time, and the dark denim low waist jeans that stopped just beneath your pink, sparkling belly button piercing made anyone want to be with you, or be you. No in between. He loved how his hands fit so perfectly around your waist, on top of that_ Prada_ belt encircling your hips. But what he must have loved a little more, was how everyone’s eye shifted to the way he’d pull you chest against chest. He was all yours, and you were his. Everybody knew.

Seven years later, and things haven’t changed a bit.

Well, most of that.

The low waist jeans are replaced with the champagne-colored Celine dress which enhances your every curve, stopping mid-thigh. Jungkook is aware that each spouse, faithful or not, must have taken a second look your way. The rounding of your wine glass hides in your palm as the French Chardonnay in it sways back and forth with every minor hand movement you make. Eyes are on you. Subtle or not for whatever reason your neighbors might have to peek and mumble about, it doesn’t matter. Probably from every corner of Park Jimin’s pool party, too.

Even Jungkook can sense the air tighten around you when his large hand finds that familiar spot above the swell of your ass. This doesn’t feel like seven years ago, when you were mere college boyfriend and girlfriend, smothered all over each other like your time together was limited. The tension is here and fairly obvious.

“What are you guys chit chatting about?” He interjects your conversation with Kim Joohyun anyway. Kim Namjoon’s wife: the lady down the street you claimed to never really like. Something about her being too merry, and her collection of flowery sun hats you can’t bear to look at. Jungkook figures he does you a favor, but you don’t spare him a second glance even when his chest nearly bumps flat to your back. Which probably still has something to do with the incident back at Seulgi’s office.

“You, actually.” You say, a click on your tongue.

Jungkook grins cutely, dimples appear at the sound of it while his hand rubs in small circles at your back. “Oh? Good things only, I hope.”

‘‘___ was just telling me about your upcoming trip!’’ Joohyun shrieks, no ill intentions behind that wide, toothy smile of hers. You don’t even blame her for not noticing how Jungkook stills on your side. ‘‘Gotta say you have me jealous, Jungkook. A trip during this time of the year? Sounds lovely.’’

‘‘Well… not sure how jealous you should be. It’s just business,’’ he heaves a breathy chuckle as he pulls you closer to his side, the tugs at his lips awfully forced in front of your neighbor. ‘‘But you knew that,’’ Jungkook nudges your side even though you don’t put in the effort to lock eyes, so he just watches your face crumble. ‘‘You didn’t mention that?’’

Your brows pull together in question. ‘‘Why would I?’’ You ask as you’re fast to focus your attention back to Joohyun, thumb pointing his way for emphasis. ‘‘He’ll be gone for almost two months on a Caribbean cruise. Isn’t that enough to be jealous of?’’

Joohyun cackles along to your bitter chuckles, the wine in her glass nearly tipping over. ‘‘You had me at Caribbean.’’

‘‘It’s not a vacation.’’ Jungkook quickly defends himself, interrupting the laughter. ‘‘It’ll be less fun when I’m going to be stuck in conference rooms all day. Believe me, it’s really not that big of a deal.’’

You swirl your glass in your hand, teeth digging into your lower lip. The feel of his fingertips at your hipbone now becomes more prominent. ‘‘You only cared to inform me last week, so I’m sure it’s no biggie.’’ You say, voice laced with irony. ‘‘He’s leaving in two weeks, by the way.’’

It’s true. Jungkook didn’t care to mention a thing about the business trip until a week ago. On a random Thursday night with Chinese take-out served on the table and a glass of red wine on the side. You’ve never been upset over any of his trips in the past, so when you stared back at the flabbergasted man with pulled brows, chow mein stuffing your cheeks as another episode of Ugly Betty blared in the background, it came as a surprise. Why, he asked you, why is it so hard to keep you happy? And the question threw you off the edge, snapping something inside you didn’t know you were keeping in. A trip that would last nearly two months had to be planned in advance. Longer than a total of three weeks, that is. Jungkook must have known he’d be gone for a long time, and he didn’t even care to inform his wife.

Jungkook apologized the moment he saw the confusion shift into anger. Though the apology was rushed and spurted out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he did it because he didn’t want any wine stains spilling your loveseat with the way you gripped onto the glass so tight. Or maybe because he realized he wasn’t the owner of a newborn pup, a last-minute search up his sleeve for a sitter during his two-month cruise vacay.

It was probably the former.

Even Kim Joohyun in her tipsy state takes note of the tight air around your throat. She smiles a little and takes another sip of her Chardonnay as if she isn’t being obvious. ‘‘More wine, babe?’’ You turn to Jungkook. His glass is still half full when you take it from his grip, pushing past his shoulder.

A pout plays on Joohyun’s lips as Jungkook’s gaze stays on you until you’re out of sight. Sad eyes trying to meet Jungkook’s as he watches you disappear into the crowd. ‘‘She’s a lady. She’ll come around.’’ She cutely tries to reassure him, a light slap to his bicep with the back of her hand. ‘‘It’ll be over by the time you all reach 30. Trust me, Joon knows all about my shenanigans by now.’’

Jungkook fakes a laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes the same way. But that’s you, he thinks to himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted, innocent joke, but Joohyun and Namjoon are only a couple years older than you two are, not even close to reaching their mid-30s. And ever since Jungkook moved into the neighborhood and has known his friends for, he’s seen the way they have never encountered a genuine threat to their relationship. Maybe you won’t ever come around, maybe Jungkook won’t either.

Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’

‘‘Most likely.’’ She carries on, apparently determined to lighten up the mood. ‘‘Isn’t that what Seulgi is there for?’’

Joohyun’s words spill off her lips before she gives herself the chance to comprehend them, not even waiting for an actual answer before she brings her glass back to her lips, painting yet another spot at the rim a bright, cherry red.

Rule 101 to a successful neighborhood-friendly party: don’t bring therapists into the conversation. Avoid at all costs!

It catches Jungkook’s attention as if alarm bells are going off. Wide eyes and usually perfect brows are suddenly a little less sharp than they were a minute ago. Kim Joohyun knows about the sessions with your couple’s therapist? Have you been going around town, casually rolling the topic into the conversation with a bunch of neighbors? Jungkook isn’t sure why he can feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the thought of it, at the mere assumption. Maybe because this is something between you and him. Something so personal, so intimate and so damn private. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to allow people to dig their noses into your business. To put it out in the open without talking to him first.

‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’

Jungkook finds it in him to stay calm. Though curiosity gets the better of him when it becomes obvious in his voice. Joohyun stands tall on both of her feet when she hears it, lips parting into a slight O. ‘‘Oh well, I mean, yeah. We’re girl friends.’’ She casually says, and it makes him wonder how deep into detail you went with the woman. When she catches him clenching his jaw, her eyes grow big. ‘‘I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was pry!’’

Kim Joohyun is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, Jungkook knows she’s already drowning herself in guilt with only a single glance his way. This is not about her. And let it be a coincidence or not, but he has mastered his poker face ever since his first years in college. Seems like the skill came in handy after all. ‘‘Don’t be sorry, what have _you _done?’’ That is all he can manage to say for now. A silly, shammed smile on his lips though he doesn’t even wait for an answer.

You, on the other hand… you’re nothing like Kim Joohyun.

A heat of adrenaline rushes through him, and he swears it is not the wine that has gone through his system. No, it can’t be, because his mouth has gone dry while the Chardonnay Park Jimin poured him earlier had some sort of sweet aftertaste. It was one of the sweetest white wines he owned, is what the blonde man gushed about.

Without any other thought hazing his mind any further, Jungkook politely excuses himself to fetch off and find you. Like a hawk, he bumps shoulders with a couple strangers as he tries to scan the large backyard, until his eyes land on you. Seated at the pool chair by the water with the sun in your face, bare legs stretched and crossed as your Givenchy sunglasses sit on the tip of your nose. The two wine glasses from earlier are forgotten and disregarded at your side table. You seem disinterested in the ongoing party at your side, not really one to mingle with strangers in the dirty pool water. You’re not a shy woman, and Jungkook has always admired that about you. It’s just that you don’t always fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. But not once since you moved to the suburbs did you mind. Instead, it almost seems like you’re glad.

‘‘You’re blocking my sun, Kook.’’ You say as if it isn’t obvious when Jungkook comes to stand at the end of the chair, by your feet. Your glasses are tipped to the tip of your nose as you lock eyes with him.

‘‘My bad.’’ He grins cutely before sitting down at the edge, fully taking you in when your middle finger pushes the tinted glasses back to your bridge as you make yourself comfortable again. ‘‘Are you enjoying yourself, babe?’’ Jungkook questions sweetly, tatted hand reaching out to cup your inner thigh, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the soft skin.

“It’s okay.”

He hums. “Mhm, I can see that.” Gentle fingers drag across your hot skin but you don’t pay him much mind. There is no need for much eye contact when you’re closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair, hands intertwining on top of your stomach. He can tell you’re still upset about earlier, when Jungkook ignored your worries and encouraged you to leave Seulgi’s session. And yes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He is aware that maybe he had gone a little too far when he just let you walk out of there without sitting you down and letting you say your thing. Though you and him both know he wouldn’t push your buttons after pulling a stunt like that. ‘‘Look at me, love.’’ He says with a tight line of his lips. You broke a piece of his trust the moment you laid your relationship bare before a woman you barely know, and God knows who else you might have told.

You do as he tells you, but mainly because the pet name sits so strange on his tongue. Like there is a bite to it. And for some strange reason, the confused look on your beautiful face irks the fuck out of him. As if you never feared he’d find out you told some neighbor about something so personal. Like he wouldn’t get upset.

‘‘Care to tell me when you got so tight with Kim Joohyun?’’

You frown, lips pursing together. ‘‘Joohyun?’’

Jungkook wants to give you another bit to process the question, but you made him an impatient man. It’s a simple query, he thinks, and there is no need for him to elaborate any further. Though you seem on the slower side today, eyes half lidded through the dark brown lenses of your glasses, like you’re done with his bullshit for the week.

‘‘You know,’’ he pushes, nodding along. ‘‘When you had no issue letting her know the ins and outs of our relationship like you’re pulling off some Vogue interview type of shit.’’

‘‘Jungkook, what are you even saying?’’

‘‘The therapy, ___. The sessions, Seulgi—all of that shit.’’ He hisses, voice lowering even though the edge to it is just as sharp. ‘‘Why would you tell her?’’

It takes a moment before he watches the realization sink in. Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and threatening flames swim in them, restlessly waiting for your word against his with his lips curled inwards and brows pulled together. You owlishly blink at him, stumbling on whatever you’re about to say next when he is looking at you like that, holding you under that microscope he’s had you on for years. Though it feels like it’s the first time he’s actually paying attention. At least now, after a long fucking time.

Jungkook is not one to easily feel small due to anyone’s actions, let it be his own mother and he wouldn’t dare to let his guard down. He is a true businessman at heart. At one point in his career, forceful assertiveness was an important skill that had to be drawn into his system in some way or another. Whether that’s considered a good quality or not, to Jeon Jungkook, financial manager of four years by now, it has always been reality.

‘‘You’re upset I told Joohyun about the therapy?’’ Qualities, skills and class. All of that thrown out of the window with a single look at those big, astonished eyes.

He returns them, all the same way. ‘‘Of course I’m gonna be upset. I mean, Kim Joohyun?’’ Jungkook scoffs loudly, having trouble keeping his voice down. ‘‘This is our fucking shit, ___. It’s none of her damn business.’’

His rage is working you up as you catch a couple heads eagerly turning your way. Negative attention is still attention, some say. ‘‘Can you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood is here.’’

Here’s one thing: Jungkook can’t give a damn about any of them now. The chatter and mingles are done for, he’s over it today. It messes with his head; the fact that the first words that came from you weren’t a set of haste apologies. Call him self-centered, he doesn’t care. It’s all he intends to hear. ‘‘You should’ve discussed this with me before you went out to talk about our personal shit with others.’’ He lowers his voice anyway.

‘‘Discuss?’’ You ask quickly. “This is not some business ordeal, Jungkook. Am I not allowed to vent to someone?’’

‘‘I’m here. Right under your nose.’’ Jungkook argues, an angry finger digging into his chest. ‘‘Why won’t you vent to me? Why would you turn to people you barely know when you’ve got me?’’

‘‘You?’’ A humorless chuckle escapes you before you can hold onto the irony. ‘‘Sure, I’ve got you. For two full weeks before you leave for that damn trip–isn’t that a luxury? My relationship is going to shit and I don’t have a single friend in this town who would want to hear me out. But thank God I got you, the one who sends his wife home mid-therapy sessions.’’

Jungkook painfully pinches his brows together as he shoots daggers through your shades. ‘‘It doesn’t matter the circumstances, ___. You don’t just casually discuss that shit with people. It isn’t something to be fucking proud of.’’

You take the glasses off to get a better look at him. ‘‘You’re not actually upset, are you?” You ask, head tilting and gaze clouding. ‘‘God, it’s beyond me how much you care about these people’s opinions. It was just a harmless neighbor-to-neighbor talk with some woman down the street. What are you afraid is gonna happen next? Them throwing us off the Saturday night mini-golf game?’’

Irony. You’re a master at it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem amused by your humor. ‘‘You know what? Tell whoever the fuck you want.’’ He stands up from his seat. ‘‘If you’re unable to see the issue at hand then maybe you’re not even worth my damn time. Figure this shit out yourself, ___.’’

And with so much, Jungkook slips away in between bodies of people you don’t know. It leaves you unhinged in your seat, the sun gracefully falling down your skin again like you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Your head runs blank when you repeat the conversation, running around in circles when you recall all of the finger-pointing. All the looks of revulsion.

You’re not one to really care about other people’s opinions. You’ve never been and never will be, you swear. People will gossip about anyone to spice up their own lives anyway. There's the unemployed wife from number 09 who walks around town in designer mini-skirts with a diamond at her ring finger bigger than her own head. She’ll undoubtedly be a broad topic with many chapters for many. You let them talk. You don’t care. There is no point in caring what those low lives say about you. The grass on the other side of the white picket fence isn’t any brighter.

So when Kim Joohyun subtly warmed you up to the topic of unstable marriages, you saw no point in lying to her and telling her you couldn’t be happier. That you’re on cloud nine and that Jungkook is the type of partner you always dreamed of, that you are his ideal partner he’s been dreaming of. Because he isn’t, and neither are you. Yes, your marriage is going to shit and you’re trying to fix it. So what if the entire neighborhood knows? You might as well give those nosy Suburbans a reliable source to gossip from.

Jungkook has always cared. You know he has. Your husband cares about the way he’s perceived by strangers; you’ve seen it as long as you’ve known him. He’s never shy to show off the gold-coated jewelry that hangs off your neck, or the overpriced three-piece suits he’ll wear long after office hours. Of course Jungkook would go feral, you then realize. Jeon Jungkook is a flawless soul. God forbid he is dealing with an unhappy wife at home and a couple’s therapist to place the cherry on top.

The door softly thuds behind you as you get home, the loud keychains announcing your return to the big house instead of a sweetened hello. You catch the back of Jungkook’s head immediately, facing you as he’s seated at the dining table. The change in his clothes stands out. The laid-back blouse he wore at the pool party is replaced with a more formal, striped button-up with neutral colors and you wonder why he’d change into it if he’s working from home, where no one would see him. The brightness of his laptop screen hits his face and it makes you realize how fast the sun had set since he stormed off earlier. He must have been working ever since he came in.

You don’t care to take your heels off as you approach him, wanting him to hear the slow steps you take instead. ‘‘Would it really hurt Park Jimin if he offered his guests some snacks? It’s a pool party for God’s sake; people shouldn’t swim on an empty stomach,’’ you whine, making your way over.

‘‘You’re home late,’’ Jungkook mumbles, teeth grinding at your presence. His eyes are set on his laptop screen, a bunch of numbers you don’t care about filling his file.

‘‘I didn’t think it’d hurt if I stayed out a little longer.’’ You hum cutely. Hands come to rest on his broad shoulders before you gently start kneading the tense muscles. You watch from behind as his head tilts a little, not yet sparing you a glance and letting go of the cold shoulder but relaxing into the feel instead. “You and I could spend some time apart after that conversation we had, no?”  

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Sighing, he speaks. “Whatever you’re trying to do right now, it’s not working.”

You pissed him off. That much did you understand when he stormed off Park Jimin’s backyard and didn’t return to make any more small talk with any of your neighbors. That perfect, white-toothed smile gone and hidden in the safety of your four walls, where he didn’t give himself the time to unwind and went to work behind his laptop straight away. You know his ways by now. Jungkook is a workaholic, that much isn’t a secret. It’s a Sunday afternoon with bits and pieces of sunlight on every corner of the neighborhood, but Jeon Jungkook would rather spark an argument with his wife and work his ass off to distract himself after.

“Hm, what is it that I’m I trying to do?” You’re provoking him, hands traveling down south beneath the thin fabric of his unbuttoned blouse while you continue to leave sweet kisses at his jaw. Quietly, you move on to deeper spots of his silky, thick neck. A cute bite here and there. “I’m not doing anything.” Your nails gently scrape against his chest in need for attention and you know it’s working despite all his efforts to remain calm. You can feel the slightest hitch of a breath with the way your palms are pressed against him. He is holding back because he’s angry, but not on your watch.

“Cut it, ___.” Jungkook snaps even though you know you nearly got him hooked around your finger. No matter how many years you’ve known the man for, he is only a man. They’re the easy kind. “I’m working.”

“On the weekend? Don’t act so fussy babe,” You circle his chair, lingering fingers in the back of his neck with a big pout on your glossed lips. You lean against the edge of the table, ass planted next to his laptop. “You used to fuck me on and off business hours all the time. What changed?”

Jungkook leans back in his chair with a loud exhale through his nose. You’re playing a silly game and he can be just as witty. His hands intertwine and his head tilts as he locks a cold eye with you. The smug curve of your lips tells him everything he needs to know. A sharp brow rises. The familiar, cocky attitude telling you to continue your little act. Continue it and see what happens, is what he tells you.

You move on command, closing his laptop with a soft thud before you impatiently shove it to the side. Jungkook watches your every move like a hawk and you wouldn’t dare to break eye contact; you wouldn't lose to him. Straddling the man with a bare leg on either side of him, you make sure you’re seated just right as your heat hovers above his already growing bulge. He whines a little at the feel of it, ever so soft like he doesn’t want to give into you. “You used to hold me, just like this,” you whimper, ushering his large hands to sit at your hips where they tighten their grip, one of them quick to move to the swell of your ass and grab a handful. “You’d tease me, play with me,” another roll of your clothed heat against his sends a wave of relief through him. It’s slow, addicting. “You used to want me all the time.”

“I still want you.” Jungkook is fast to object. Eyes flickering down to the plumpness of your tinted lips and you waste no time in shutting him up when he does so. Your lips clash together like it’s second nature, perfectly in sync from the get-go like it is always that easy between you. Teeth clash and tongues dance like you’re desperate. You don’t stop until a tattooed hand reaches through your hair, gently make shifting your locks into a ponytail until he tightens his grip. Prying you away with a little more force than he‘s shown earlier. “But you fucking piss me off baby,”

He has you in his lock, gripping tighter onto the ponytail until you look down on him and that smug smile is wiped off your lips. “Do I?” You ask dumbly. You know you do. He knows you know.

“You do, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?” He questions with a closed-lipped smile. Jungkook’s free hand moves to hike your dress higher up your ass until it sits completely bare on top of him, one less layer until he can feel you. With the fresh air that is roaming through the house, you’re not given enough time to adjust to the new feeling against your bare skin when he spanks you once. Soothing the skin with a little graze after. “You think sex makes me forget about the way you can’t shut that tight little mouth? Hm? Always gotta complain about something.” Another spank. Through it all, you remain eye contact as you watch the fire swim through his gaze. “Not to me, though. To your little friends around the neighborhood, right?”

“No.”

“Hm, what was that?” He heard you, though he hums anyway.

“Just Joohyun.” You whimper in his grip, stopping yourself from rolling your hips into his when he grabs a handful of your flesh. “I only told Kim Joohyun from number 05. She doesn’t fucking care about you or me. Nobody fucking cares about us.”

His grip on your hair only tightens as you spew the words out, a delicious sting at your scalp. “Aren’t you sorry, baby?” He whispers with a sharp edge to it, spitting the words out like he doesn’t need an answer from you. Like he already knows the answer. “I’d be fucking sorry if I were you, because I’m yours. And you’re mine.” His lips press together, sharp eyes burning into yours. “And whatever the fuck is mine, I keep to myself. Don’t you think that’s rational?”

You nod, but it isn’t enough for him. “C’mon, babe. You were talking so much shit earlier, you can give me more than that.” He says.

“Yes, Kook. You’re right.” You whine out loud, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tilts his head cutely, intently peering back at you. “Sorry, for?”

“For talking shit about everything. The sessions, the therapy. I should’ve understood this is something between you and me.”

A smug smile paints his lips, seemingly pleased with your answer as he loosens his grip at your hair. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard now?” He asks sweetly, eyes softening and fingers continuing to travel through your locks, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying the way you relax into his touch. “Go lay on that table and spread those legs for me.”

You shoot him a look even though the state between your legs worsens, pausing. “Jungkook, we eat at that table.”

“I told you to get on there, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when he’s looking at you like that. Those dark, hazy and impatient eyes seem to bore into your skull until you do what he asks. The petty attitude you carried with pride is now long gone, lost in the heat of the moment as you climb onto the dining table before him, like a five-star buffet. Heels dig into the stool in between his legs and thighs clamp together as you lean back to observe him, testing to see how much longer you can push his buttons. He knows you’re trying to work him up because you’re great at it. He gave you seven years to master all your troublesome ways on him.

The corners of your mouth curl up to a sly and mischievous smile as your teeth dig into your lower lip. ‘‘You wanna play, baby?’’ Jungkook challenges, noticing the look you give him. He rises from his seat until he hovers over you with his broad shoulders. With your knees stay put against his chest, he quietly watches how you get down to lay your back flat against the table the closer he comes. Just the way he told you to. ‘‘Let’s play then,’’ he murmurs, his hands sliding up your bare legs, pausing at your thighs and gently tearing them apart until you’re spread out to his liking. Your breath hitches in your throat, back already curving off the surface of the table when Jungkook’s thumb grazes soft circles over your panties. The black-laced thong does little to block the sensation. He sighs heavily, breath fainting in the crook of your neck while his free arm supports his weight next to your head.

‘‘I don’t even know if you deserve to be fucked good.’’ Jungkook groans into your neck. There is no way he doesn’t feel the wet spot on your panties, not when his fingertips continue to feel you up and dig a little at where your hole is covered up. ‘‘What if I just,’’ he slips your thong aside, ‘‘…fucked this soaked pussy with my fingers, hm?’’

You can’t stop the whimper that leaves you when his thick middle finger teases a long strike down your folds. ‘‘Please, Jungkook.’’ You cry, nails scraping at his nape. ‘‘I want you.’’ Jungkook never fails you when it comes to sex. He knows your body like the back of his hand and no matter how shaky the ground underneath your feet might be, Jungkook will always be a passionate lover underneath the sheets. Some days, it might be all you can hold on to.

‘‘Yeah? You want so much, baby.’’ He continues to trail messy kisses down your throat, traveling lower until he reaches your hardened nipples. His free hand flicks it twice before he takes the sensitive bud in between his lips and starts sucking with no shame, teeth grazing with a slight sting. ‘‘And I give it all to you like an idiot, even when you don’t deserve it. What makes you think you deserve to feel good?’’

‘‘I apologized, Kook.’’ You defend yourself, heat pooling in your lower belly when his lips sink lower. Tasting every inch of you until he stops just above your begging heat. ‘‘Please, baby, right now I just… need you.’’

A low hum leaves him as if telling you he understands. With a single, last kiss does he finish off, hands sweetly running over your thighs like he’s thinking. “Let’s compromise.’’ He then says, looking up at you. “I’m eating this sweet pussy, but you don’t cum unless I tell you so.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Clear?’’

You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’

He only strikes you with a satisfied smile before he averts his focus. Large hands curl around the back of your thighs to keep you in place and the excitement rushes through you merely at the feeling. Your pussy is pulsing beneath him only at the thought of having him so close to you and it pushes his ego. “And I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Understand me?’’

“Yes, Kook,’’ you wail, feeling the impatience tug at you.

A desperate whimper cut short leaves your pretty lips when he pushes your panties aside again, this time until he’s able to fully expose your bare heat. You’re sensitive and a little swollen beneath him, eagerly awaiting his touch. That, or his lovemaking. He doesn’t know which one it is, but he is convinced it doesn’t matter. When he gets to watch you like this, so needy for his touch and desperate for his attention, then ultimately, Jungkook feels like he has won.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook needs to win petty games because it’s obvious you don’t need him like you used to. Some days you barely talk to each other, and others, you don’t even see each other. You fetch for yourself and so does your husband. No issue, he often tells his friends when they ask about your relationship and its rocky road. Part of life, it’s gonna cool off, is what he says. Though when he’s got you beneath him like this, moaning and whining his name in utter desperation, then yes, he remembers what it is like to be wanted by you. And yes, he needs to win that game.

“Always so perfect for me,’’ he mumbles more to himself than to you as he spreads your lips apart with two thick fingers. Blowing cool air directly on your drenched cunt, curious to see how sensitive you really are. And to say he’s pleased when he watches you flinch away with that cute little gasp coming from your throat, is an understatement. “Have you touched yourself since the last time I fucked you, baby?’’

He knows he has. Jungkook has thought of you in the shower, a door away from where you were sound asleep. Or on the downstairs sofa, the night you were out with a couple women down the block. And most embarrassingly of all, locked in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, when you were too angry over his late hours to give him a call back. He watches your face distort, trying to read whatever it is he expects you to say. “Be honest with me, there is no wrong answer.’’ He mellows, a single finger continuing to stroke your folds ever so gently.

“Yes…’’

He hums. “Yes, what?’’

“Yes, I touched myself since you last fucked me.’’

It’s been a long week since he last fucked you. Your husband had been busy preparing for his upcoming business trip, while you were upset with him for prioritizing work over your marriage. Both of you were angry with each other. Though, despite the high tensions, neither of you was willing to break the standoff by dropping your cold shoulder and making the first move. Until now. “What did you think of when you were touching yourself?’’ He asks you quietly, tip of his tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe at your wet folds. “Was it my mouth?’’ It’s a gentle move at first, though Jungkook grows more focused on the sensitive bud of your clit when your little whines increase. Taking it in his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you stumble beneath him.

“Yes, I was thinking about your mouth on me,’’ you’re out of breath when you finally speak and Jungkook snickers into your heat at the fragile state he’s got you in. “Also your fingers, Kook.’’

“What about them?’’ He breaks free from your lips, thumb back at your clit and rubbing in sweet circles before you can comprehend it. “You imagined me fucking you with my fingers?’’ His other hand reaches down to play a little at your hole, teasing as a string of wetness attaches to his finger.

“Yes, Kook, please.’’ You groan out loud, ‘’I need you to fuck me.’’

His mouth is back on you as soon as the words come out. Little pools of saliva drip from his lip and fall onto your cunt until you’re a mess beneath him, rolling your hips into his face and growing desperate for some sort of release. Jungkook hums sternly with the bud in between his soft lips as a warning, the sensation of it pushing you even more off the edge. “You wanna be fucked, baby?’’ He asks you like it isn’t obvious in the way your face seems to glow with delight, eyes shut so tight and lips so pursed you might explode. “What is it? Your own fingers didn’t satisfy you?’’

A thick finger enters your slick fold just as his words get through. Curling inside your tight walls as his tongue flicks to make a return. “Need yours,’’ you cry, his tongue making circular motions onto your clit for as long as he feels you tighten around him, encouraging him to fasten the pace and make you cry on his tongue. “Yours always make me feel better.’’

“Hm, yeah?’’ He buzzes, eating your needy whines up. ‘’Pretty baby can’t make herself feel good so she needs me to do the job for her?’’ Your moans are like music to his ears, adding another finger to your tight warmth and fucking in and out of you until your moans aren’t recognizable anymore.

He pumps in and out of your warmth until you’re squirming beneath him, until he is satisfied with the sounds your cunt makes for him. Wetness coating his fingers as proof he is the only one out there who makes you feel this good. The only one who gets you to roll your eyes to the back of your head in absolute bliss. It sparks his ego, alright. Jungkook can’t stop the smile from spreading onto his lips when you grip his wrist tightly, holding onto him because his pace sends you to your high a little too quickly. He curls his fingers inside you once more, rubbing your sweet walls to remind you how much you need him to be yours.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.’’ There is a layer of desperation he hasn’t heard in a while, and fuck, it is an addicting sound coming from you.

Jungkook’s tongue clicks at the roof of his mouth, tsking loudly. “We had a deal, baby. Want to remind me what we agreed on?’’ His fingers reach deeper into your pussy and he rolls his tongue more passionately onto your clit, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you try to run back on it. “Remind me, ___.’’

The stern tone throws you off guard and you might be imagining things, but you swear he fucks you a little harder the longer you stay quiet. “I can’t cum without your permission.’’

“See who listens if she tries a little?’’ He throws in a wink just to get to you, ‘’So we’re gonna be patient, aren’t we? You told me you could do it, ___. ’’

There it was. That sweet tone of his that always drives you off the edge. His eyes tease when they meet yours, something challenging gleaming in them as if he’s already won your little game. And with the way you squill when he rewards you with a particularly harsh suck at your sensitive clit, he might be closer to crossing the finishing line than you are. He knows that, too. Feels it in the way you fumble as you lay there, in the way your pussy clenches around his thick fingers.

“I can,” you defend yourself, although it doesn’t sound convincing. Not when you’re so out of breath.

Jungkook snickers at you like he’s amused. He finds it endearing how you’re trying so hard to remain calm underneath him. You’re so stubborn, so sure of yourself like he hasn’t known you for almost a decade. Like he hasn’t been given ten years to explore you, to know you from the inside out. And whether you forgot about it or not, there was a time when Jungkook read through you and you loved it. There was a time when you were his, and he was yours. A time when you wore that diamond around your finger with pride.

“Gonna miss this sweet pussy when I’m gone.” He’s talking about his trip. But you don’t want to hear about it, and he knows. He sees it in the way your face crumbles and the sighs of pleasure turn into ones of distress. Jungkook reaches up to you, two fingers still buried to the hilt until he hovers above you. The warmth radiating off his chest is addictive no matter how many times you’d deny it. He locks your lips with his in a swift motion, dancing together like you weren’t shooting lasers at each other earlier today. A lewd moan leaves you when he bites down your bottom lip, the sensational sting holding on to it even when his teeth let go. “Are you gonna miss me?”

I miss you every day, is what lies at the tip of your tongue. Though you realize it sounds a bit too sentimental for the current state of your relationship you find yourselves in. So you opt to respond with beats of silence instead. You figure it wouldn’t complicate things. It breaks his heart a little when his answer is filled with only the sound of his fingers pumping in and out your pussy, but he knows he isn’t one to dwell. “I’ll bring you something pretty back.’’

You figured he would bring something exquisite back with him. It is just the way he does things. Always bringing something pretty back home and never returning from his trips empty-handed. Jimmy Choo high heels, Prada mini handbags, you name it—he has a knack for finding you the most coveted items. Though right now, you don’t care about any of that. All you want is him, there is no need to offer much else. The thought of his embrace, the way his touch sets your body on fire, it was once enough to fill you with a longing. A craving only he can satisfy. Not some luxury item he’s pulling off his sleeve.

You hold Jungkook’s cheeks to draw him nearer, at a loss for words. You haven’t gotten much to tell him, after all. His warm breath grazes your lips and you’re sure he feels the same thing, eyes flickering from your dark gaze, back to your lips as his fingers slow down. “Jungkook,” you whimper, shivers sending down your spine when he rubs your walls so deliciously slowly. “Make me cum, please.” You beg, silenced by the way his lips meet yours in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves you a little breathless. He tastes like white wine and sweets, the flavors melting on your tongue in a sensual tango as your fingers run through his perfect locks, pulling him closer as your breaths become ragged.

“You want me, baby?” His lips are swollen when he breaks free, needing confirmation. He hates that he can’t go without.

“So bad,” you tell him, nails sweetly scraping at his jaw when his fingers are buried deep to the knuckles. “Want to cum on your fingers.”

It’s all he needed to hear to be satisfied, the smug smile on his lips dying to make an appearance when you whimper beneath him like you do. “Come for me, princess.” He orders sweetly, a toothy grin lingering as his hot breath falls down your face. “Make me a mess on my fingers.”

You comply gracefully, without needing him to ask twice. As a wave of pleasure pulses through your body, the knot in your lower abdomen unravels, causing your back to arch off the table and your thighs to clamp together until Jungkook’s torso blocks them from doing so. He watches intently, observing the way your jaw drops and your lips part ever so slightly, noticing the crease that form between your eyebrows as your eyes squeeze shut. He wants to preserve this image, to savor it in the recesses of his mind, even when he’s halfway across the world and separated from you.

Your breathing slows down until you come down from your high. Jungkook’s fingers gently slip out of your cunt before they cup your warmth one last time, sweetly spreading your wetness over your folds until he’s satisfied enough and you can’t seem to take any more of his touch, even if they are minor and gentle. You make a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with him, even though he seems to be pleading with his gaze. He keeps his eye fixed on the side of your face as you drift off, the weight of your breaths gradually easing until the tension between you suddenly tightens. His chest above you becomes a little less warm, and you become a little more cold. Some sort of emptiness arises, both of you can feel it.

Moments ago, you couldn’t even tell him you’d miss him in return. And despite the fact that you might not miss him back, he would much rather have you spew out that little white lie in the heat of the moment than have you stay silent the way you did. It would spare his feelings a little, he wouldn’t mind. But even after your glow died down and the initial rush subsided, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. You know your relationship is, and has never been solely based on sex; that much was evident from the beginning. So why are you acting as if it is?

“You don’t gotta.’’ He says simply, not wanting to elaborate much further as the issue at hand becomes more apparent, becoming clear to him. However, for you, he doesn’t have a clue what is going through your mind. But for him, the problem nags at him to the point where he can’t find it in him to come up with a solution. Where he doesn’t necessarily want to find one.

You stare back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “I don’t mind.’’ You shrug, hands falling limp on your sides. “Do you?’’

You observe as Jungkook’s lips purse together and his eyes start to wander around the room as if looking for something fascinating. He shifts his weight to one leg as his hands slide into his pockets. “Yeah,’’ he mumbles in a low voice with a frown, no indication of humor on his face.

You wait for him to provide an explanation. Maybe he’s simply worn from today’s events and wants to head to bed early. To go upstairs and take a long, hot shower after he worked his ass off behind that screen. It was only last week when Seulgi brought the topic of sex to the table, at first suggesting you’d attempt to see each other more often during the day. Maybe go out for lunch together during his breaks, or have breakfast together before he takes off.

No way, Jungkook told her then. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are spent behind his laptop screen and it’d be impossible to shift around the schedule, let alone picking you up and bringing you back home by the time his break ends.

You’d have to find the time some way or another if you want this to work, she said. Try having more sex, she then suggested, attempt to rekindle that spark that brought you together in the first place through more intimate, private methods and connect to each other in your most vulnerable ways. Intimacy can help reignite the passion in some relationships, is what she tried to convince you of.

A bunch of crap, you swear. Two hundred bucks an hour for advice you could’ve found at the back of some middle-aged gossip magazine? Not when he has an obvious hard one hiding in his pants and rejects you like he has better things to do than to _“reignite the passion you share that has brought you together.’’ _

Especially when you haven’t fucked ever since that day.

Jungkook’s lack of response speaks volumes, leaving you feeling frustrated and disrespected. If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he could just say so.

Screw him and screw Kang Seulgi. You refuse to settle for a partner who rejects your advances, or a therapist with shallow suggestions. You deserve a partner who is willing to put in the effort to keep the spark alive in your relationship, and not just dismiss your needs with a simple swipe of his card at Seulgi’s office.

The week continues much like the way you and Jungkook prefer to handle things—tons of escapism and much less communication than is probably needed. In your defense, your husband will leave the country in a little over a week, and all the issues you could address and possibly solve now would still be forgotten and buried by the time he travels back home. It’s pointless, you think. You figure there just isn’t much to talk about in such short amount of time, and Jungkook must think something similar; it is evident in the way your backs face each other every night of the week, the way he eats dinner at the dining table in the living room while you do it at the kitchen counter, the way either of you can barely look at each other for longer than a few seconds. Your pride is too high to break through your walls.

Car rides have never been this dreadful before.

It is only when Jungkook stops in front of a red light that manages to steal a glance at you in the passenger’s seat. His demeanor stays cool, with his tattooed hand on the wheel as he sits back and takes the opportunity to observe you. His inked sleeve is on display, with his dress shirt rolled up all the way up to his elbows, although he is required to cover up in mere moments before you arrive at the business event that got you so dolled up, surrounded by tens of his colleagues.

You’re typing away on your phone screen on his side. Long, almond shaped nails tapping against the device as if you’re setting several emergency meetings up for the upcoming hour.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | So, you haven’t had sex in over a week? He didn’t want to at all?

You | I don’t know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t fucking talk.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | Maybe he’s relieving it somewhere else. Any big fights gone on between you two recently?

The text causes you to pause. You look up, looking a little puzzled with the way eyebrows furrow. Jungkook catches on quickly, meeting your eye for a split second before you tear your eyes back to your tiny screen. You’re not sure what Joohyun is implying and neither do you care enough to know. You may make Jungkook out for a lot of things a lot of the time, but you know there is one thing he is not.

You | You better not say what I think you’re saying. Lol.

Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.

The implication pisses you off as you let your phone fall to your lap, arms folding over another. He watches as you’re visibly bothered, instantly recognizing that look on your face because he has seen it a dozen times already. The pursed, glossed lips and the clenched jaw, it’s a classic. Jungkook isn’t sure who pissed you off to the point where you’re not even arguing with him, but he doubts you’ll tell him. His eyes are on you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. Instead, you remain silent, your annoyance palpable in the air.

Jungkook clears his throat, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ He speaks over the radio, a careful start.

You can’t help it. You’ve been with the man for almost a decade, and sure, not always has it been pretty, but somehow it has worked. Maybe it was your first mistake to tell Kim Joohyun about the therapy sessions and the whole Kang Seulgi issue at hand, but you needed an outlet. Something close to a friend who would listen to you since Jungkook was always out of the house. Now you’re stuck with random people implying your husband doesn’t need your sex, that he’s fine finding it someplace else. You so dearly hope you misunderstood her, because your heart pounds a little faster, chest grows a little tighter.

Your head lolls to the backrest of your seat as you take a deep breath, eyes set on the scenery outside. ‘‘It’s just something Joohyun said,’’ you finally say. The sky above you paints an array of pinks and purples, a beautiful sight if only you weren’t feeling so sour right now.

Jungkook nods like he understands, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his head softly nods along to the music at the radio. ‘‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’’

The words throw you off guard. You can’t help but stare back as he looks at you with a patient, and rather relaxed demeanor. You can’t recall the last time where either of you suggested to talk. It must’ve been a long time. It’s rare, that is. You shake your head slowly, swallowing before your head falls back to your seat. ‘‘No, it’s nothing,’’ you murmur, eyes back out of the window.

He clicks his tongue softly. ‘‘Alright. If you say so,’’ Jungkook says, quick to dismiss the offer, and something inside of you wishes he pushed a little further. Moments of silence continue to fill the car, with the only sound coming from the radio and the soft hum of the car’s engine. ‘‘You like the dress?’’ He reaches out to lower the volume, eyes scanning down your body, where the simple, strapless silhouette of the Valentino mini dress hugs your curves so charmingly. Worn as a vision of elegance with the way you do it, he knew you’d like it too. 

‘‘I do. Thank you.’’ You say, only now having the chance to thank him for the luxury item you found on the kitchen counter this morning, just like Jungkook’s text told you where to find it. The message didn’t say much, just that the dress was there and that he’d pick you up straight after work for the business event he was invited to. You got the hint, styled the dress with some jewelry that matched the rich, ivory white fabric and you picked out your prettiest heels. The Jimmy Choo ones with the bow that you knew Jungkook loved so much. You’re not sure how long it took for you to get ready, maybe an hour or two tops, but you know you took your time. Maybe because you wanted to look pretty for him, knowing he probably wanted to see you in the dress if he bought it for you.

His eyes travel to your legs, also leaning back in his seat as his foot hovers over the gas pedal, the car humming as it moves forward a little. ‘‘Thought everybody should see you in it tonight.”

Reality rushes back to you, then. Jungkook doesn’t care about you _or _the dress. Your husband only cares about the way the both of you will be perceived tonight. By his colleagues, by his friends and by his acquaintances. Yes, you’re looking stunning tonight. Your hair sits flawlessly and your legs have never looked sexier before. But what does that matter when he can’t proudly put his arm around you and call you his?

The light turns green and he tears his eyes off you, back to the road. ‘‘But I hope you get to smile a little more by the time we’re there.’’

There’s an attitude to the statement, leaving you a little in awe. ‘‘I don’t really feel like smiling,’’ you declare, arms folded. It’s a sassy response, one he catches on to instantly and you know it, considering the way he side-eyes you from behind the wheel. The glances he throws your way burning at your head.

‘‘I don’t need you acting petty, ___.’’ He chuckles, though there is no humor to it. ‘‘I know we’ve got a lot of our own shit to worry about, but we don’t need any of that tonight. Please,’’ he adds, ‘‘just be there with your head.’’

You feel a surge of anger rising inside you at his words. How dare he tell you how to feel and how to act? You take a deep breath, voice already shaking from the way he works you up. ‘‘So you want me to pretend all is good in front of everyone? Because you know it isn’t.’’

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the pedal a bit harder, grip tightening around the wheel. ‘‘I’m asking you to keep it down,’’ he argues, ‘‘there’s no need for us to be mixing business with private matters in front of these people–it doesn’t concern them. We can talk about everything else later, I just want to get through with it for tonight.’’

You scoff. ‘‘Funny you say that, considering we haven’t exchanged a word all week.’’

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second before focusing back on the road. ‘‘Not now, ___.’’ He insists, ‘‘I promise we can talk about anything you want the minute we’re back home, just not now.’’

‘‘Now you just need me to be perfect. Got it.’’

His grip on the wheel tightens even more, the tension radiating off him. You never make the effort to try and understand him. ‘‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘‘All I want from you is to act professional. It’s not the time or the place for this shit, ___. We can deal with everything else later.’’

You don’t agree but keep it to yourself just to save either of your energy. The rest of the ride is quiet, but far from peaceful. It takes not much longer than twenty dreadful minutes before you arrive at the grand hotel as you waste no time getting the hell out of Jungkook’s Benz to breathe some fresh air, dusting some imaginary dirt off the ends of your dress while your mini bag hangs in the crook of your arm. The valet rushes to your sides, taking care of his car keys before Jungkook leads the two of you inside with his large hand burnt to your lower back. It takes everything to keep yourself sane, to not rip his touch off you as he sends his prettiest, most charming smiles to people you only know the faces of.

The dimmed lobby is bustling with people as you make your entrance, all dressed up in their finest attire and sipping on champagne while chatting amongst themselves. The night passes uneventfully, with the occasional surge of excitement as the guests mingle and socialize. You’re grateful for the attentive staff, who makes sure your glass is full throughout the night. Mainly sticking by Jungkook’s side with champagne as your only friend, an arm looping around his own as you lean into him and fall back into your own world.

New colleagues of his stumble in left and right, and you admire your husband’s ability to remember each of their names and faces. You, on the other hand, stopped keeping track of whoever stands before you. You figured it is easier to become the wife Jungkook wants to represent you when you keep your mouth shut and merely stand there looking pretty. Designer dripping off you as your hand caresses over his chest in circles with a sweet, dimpled smile on your face.

‘‘I would’ve worn my fancy tie if you told me your girlfriend was this beautiful, Jeon,’’ a rough, low voice interrupts. ‘‘You know, the one that lightens up when you press the button.’’

Before you stand an older couple, their eyes crinkling with sweet wrinkles and sparkling with warmth the minute you lock eyes with them. They mirror you, where their arms loop together and move in perfect sync. Jungkook chuckles on your side, cute apples of his cheeks making an appearance. ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Choi,’’ he exclaims, moving to place his hand just above the swell of your ass before pulling you closer into him, though his touch leaves a chill in its wake. ‘‘I take it you haven’t met my wife yet.’’

‘‘Oh, dear Lord,’’ the woman known as Mrs. Choi squeals as she gladly takes your hand in hers. Hers are warm and embrace yours gently, only now knowing you sipped a bit too much champagne when the movement throws you off guard. “I keep insisting that Jungkook needs to bring you to the office so I can meet this pretty face but he won’t budge,” she says, keeping your hand warm in between hers. “Now I get why he wants to keep you to himself—you’re a doll.”

You snicker a little at the comment, feeling the champagne flush at your cheeks at the older lady’s words. Jungkook’s thumb runs in small circles at your hip. “Isn’t she?” He speaks, softly pulling you towards him. “Why would I share with anyone?”

The Choi couple share smiles of delight, visibly over the moon when Jungkook pulls you closer to his side and plants a sweet kiss on your temple. “A married man,” Mr. Choi sighs with fondness in his eyes, hands gesturing your way as if to say look at you. “I wouldn’t have known for the love of God, son. It’s wonderful to witness young love well and alive.”

Jungkook wears his prettiest smile, obviously enjoying the way Mr. and Mrs. Choi worship at his feet. He takes your free hand in his own before he pulls it up for a showcase, the shining diamond around your ring finger glinstering beneath the warm lights. “We mark 7 years this season.” He seems proud as he speaks, the close lipped smile telling them all they need to know.

Mrs. Choi holds an exaggerated hand to her chest, eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry. “You must be so proud of him,” she glows when she speaks to you. “You’ve got the office’s heartthrob in your hold, dear. I can guarantee you he’s taking that award home tonight.”

“Businessman of the Year!” Mr. Choi exclaims with theatrical hands, fading away before you. “I can see it, kid. The title looks good on you.”

“Oh, I won’t assume anything.” Jungkook snickers on your side, pretty dimples visible when he smiles. “I don’t intend on winning tonight. I’ve got strong competitors to see eye to eye.”

It’s not that you’re not proud of all that Jungkook has accomplished, but the bitter smile returns and is barely perceptible. You doubt anyone notices. Hell, Jungkook’s pride seems to consume him, too far gone to notice you straying away in his warm hold. It astounds you how his colleagues seem to put him on a pedestal, quite literally worshiping the ground he walks on and hanging onto every word he says.

“They got nothing on you.” Mrs. Choi argues with a light scoff before her toothy smile returns. “But I get it. Who wants to win some trivial award when you already got your hands on the most beautiful gem in the room, right?” She throws the compliment your way, a wink thrown in there but your stomach tightens at the words all the same.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching for a connection that seems elusive. “You know, we’re all so consumed by the road to success that we sometimes don’t realize what we already got,” he begins, eyes back at the Choi couple when you refuse to look back at him. “If tonight ends without that award, I’d be more than content to celebrate with just the two of us. Just like we always have done—years on end.”

“That’s what love is about.” Mrs. Choi nods with a tilted head like she understands. Like you and Jungkook will go home tonight and make love with butterflies in the pit of your stomach, hearts fluttering with anticipation, and a sense of triumph in the air. She probably wouldn’t smile so wide if she knew the ground you’re standing on is not so solid. “And that’s why good things come your way, Jungkook. You do everything with so much dedication and love, you should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s true.” Mr. Choi interjects, nodding sagely as he extends a wise finger. “Take that well-deserved promotion for example. It didn’t appear out of thin air, son. You’ve worked hard to earn it.”

You still on Jungkook’s side and he can feel it in an instant. He feels your eyes on him, a piercing gaze that cuts through the chatter of the lobby. His sharp brows furrow slightly as he senses your scrutiny. His voice, tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension breaks the silence, hopefully able to remove that big question mark off your forehead. ‘‘Yes, the promotion,’’ He begins, now avoiding your eyes as his fingers loosen at your hip. ‘‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Choi.’’

Mrs. Choi’s cheerful demeanor suddenly falters, replaced by concern etched onto her face. “Are you feeling alright, dear?’’ She asks you, her voice filled with genuine worry. ‘‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You don’t spare Mrs. Choi a single glance when she puts the focus on you, practically forcing Jungkook to lock eyes with you. Your eyes bore into his, your attention solely on Jungkook and his bewildered state. “Promotion, huh?” You say, voice tinged with a touch of resentment. The bitter tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny how you never mentioned anything about a promotion, Jungkook.”

He hesitates, his hand retracting slowly, an obvious gesture of unease. “Well… it was meant to be a surprise,” He pulls out of his ass, a reassuring smile aimed at the elderly couple who already seem remorseful for bringing the topic up, apologetic smiles on their faces. “To be honest, it isn’t that big of a deal anyways. Just a small step up the corporate ladder.”

‘‘A small step up the ladder?’’ You repeat a little louder than you mean to, voice dripping with disappointment. You turn to fully face him, back turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Choi when you do your best to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook. I know exactly what a promotion entails.”

The room seems to hold its breath, the tension palpable as the air grows heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed grievances. The once-glowing atmosphere now feels suffocating, the sense of disconnect between you and Jungkook impossible to ignore. The weight of your words fall heavy on the tip of your tongue and your eyes tell him that you’re becoming furious, the fire in your eyes burning with an intensity that can’t be contained. How dare he? You’re hanging on to this relationship with every fiber in your body and what does he think is the solution to that? Adding hours to his already demanding contract while you continue to plan more sessions with Kang Seulgi?

Jeon Jungkook’s audacity is truly unbelievable. How could he be so blind to the problems that you’re already trying to tame? He chuckles quietly, devoid of any genuine humor. His eyes dart around the room, scanning for any sign of anyone else besides the Choi couple taking note of the tension. ‘‘I was going to tell you, it’s just that nothing is final yet. I haven’t signed anything,’’ he stammers, attempting to justify him keeping this from you.

‘‘But you were going to.’’ You snarl, jabbing an accusing finger digging into his chest. ‘’Do you even realize what you’re doing, Jungkook? It’s not a matter of when. It’s the fact that you’d do it in a heartbeat, not even taking us into consideration like any decent partner would.’’

‘‘Sweetheart,’’ Mrs. Choi’s tries to interject, voice filled with concern. ‘‘I’m sure he just wanted the moment to be special,’’ Her well-intentioned effort to comfort you falls on deaf ears with a dismissive wave of your hand. You’re not sure if you can take any more of this bullshit tonight, the surge of resentment is swelling within you.

‘‘Please, excuse us,’’ Jungkook says with a forced smile, gently pushing you forward by the small of your back, signaling you’d better walk if you want to talk some more. And walk you do, your arms crossed tightly and lips pressed into a thin line, leading the way out of the sea of people chatting about God knows what.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook gets held up again. You don’t recognize the face of the taller man who approaches him, and neither are you interested in his being, though the blood rushes to your head when Jungkook starts talking back with that familiar sweet smile. He searches for your eye over the taller man’s shoulder, making sure you’re still there before his polite, charming grin paints his lips again like nothing is wrong. Like you aren’t ready to lose each other.

You make a beeline to the bathroom the moment you realize it. And for just a moment, you find solace from the suffocating air outside the restroom. It happens the moment you lock the door and cover your bare neck in cold tap water, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you as it seems to hit you like a train. You don’t know if you and Jungkook will ever be okay. It might be the alcohol in your system, but the tears that form in the corners of your eyes threaten to escape. It’s difficult to hold them back, but you do it somehow. You wonder if there’s any hope left over, or if this promotion is just another confirmation of his growing distance, a subtle way of telling you there’s little left over to salvage.

Three quiet knocks tap against the bathroom door. ‘‘___, it’s me,’’ his voice booms from the other side and you take a moment to recollect yourself. When you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, tears still hang in the corners of your eyes if you pay a little attention and your throat falls dry. “Open up?” He shouldn’t see you like this. You don’t remember the last time Jungkook has seen you cry; the last time he’s seen you vulnerable.

‘‘I need a moment, Jungkook,’’ you reply, shuffling around the small space.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. ‘‘Please, just let me in. We gotta talk.’’

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing him now feels overwhelming. Back there, amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces, you felt as if you could explode. Steam blowing out of your ears, blood rushing to your head. But right here, in this confined space,  it’s just you and him. Your eyes are slightly glossy and your lips anxiously curl inwards. You don’t know what’s coming over you. You’d much rather have him see you angry, with your head held high.

With a heavy sigh, you turn the lock, leaving the door ajar just wide enough so you can see his face. The tight purse of his lips eases when he takes in your appearance, and you swear you can see a glimmer of softness in his eyes. A flat, tattooed hand gently pushes the door open before he enters with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress pants. Your fingers curl over the edge of the sink when you stumble back and lean against it, watching as he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Silence hangs heavily in the air, overtaking you. Neither of you can help it. There’s nothing to bicker about when it seems like you’re at the verge of breaking down, so silence it is. ‘‘Then talk,’’ you say, voice distant. ‘‘You’re not talking. You said we needed to.’’

Jungkook’s gaze flickers with something you can’t place. You hope it has something to do with regret and determination. He takes a step closer, closing the space between you. ‘‘What happened out there,’’ he starts, voice quiet when a finger points towards the door. ‘‘It was unnecessary, ___.’’

You shouldn’t have opened that door for him like a fool, expecting he wouldn’t spit in your face like that. You don’t know what it is you want him to tell you, but for some reason, you yearn for something that sounds like an apology. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. ‘‘You waltz in here like that and that’s the first thing you say? Cut me some slack, Jungkook, please,’’

His jaw tenses, a sign of growing frustration. ‘‘___, we had a deal. No business mixing with whatever problems we have. Not tonight… not when tonight is supposed to be special.’’ Jungkook quietly reminds you, taking another step closer until your chests almost touch. ‘‘And as for the promotion,’’ he sighs heavily, his hand tugging at his tie with a frustrated huff. ‘‘I was going to tell you when it was just you and me–just us, away from all of these people. That was going to be our damn moment.’’ Jungkook spits, teeth grinding together as his brows furrow. ‘‘They had no business opening their mouths on it, but they did anyway. So if you want to be mad, then fine, do your thing. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but you did.’’

The small room feels suffocating, tension building with each passing second. Your tears are long forgotten every time he opens that big mouth of his, because the anger seems to consume you. ‘‘I don’t fucking care about any of that,’’ you scoff, pushing yourself off the edge of the sink with a head held high. Now you’re the one stepping closer. ‘‘It’s the idea that you would even accept all those extra hours and responsibilities when you know,’’ there is a heavy pause for you to catch your breath, a finger digging so deep in his chest it makes him stumble back a step. ‘‘When you know what is going to happen to us if you take this.’’

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his own frustration surfacing. ‘‘And what’s happening?’’ He retorts, his voice filled with defiance. ‘‘How can you expect me to turn an opportunity like this down when I’ve worked so hard for it? I worked my ass off for this, proved my fucking worth and ended up deserving it. I haven’t even reached the age of 30 and chances like these don’t just appear out of thin air, ___. I’ve got colleagues twice my age trying to achieve what is waiting for me to grasp.’’

The intensity of the argument rises, voices echoing off the walls and you’re sure people passing on the outside hear every word. You scoff, a humorless laugh escapes you. ‘‘So this is all about your precious career, isn’t it?’’ You hold up your hand, where your wedding ring catches his eye. ‘‘You made me a promise, too. Long ago, before you knew any of those people you’re trying to prove your worth to.’’

Jungkook’s face flushes with frustration, his hands clenched into fists before they settle at your hips and shoves you back until you’re leaned against the sink again. Though not too harsh. He is never too harsh. ‘‘Why can you never be satisfied?’’ He mumbles, anger giving way to hurt. ‘‘This is my chance to provide for us, to make sure we have a future that we deserve living. Why won’t you support me, be by my fucking side?’’

Bitter laughter escapes your lips, almost grazing his own. ‘‘Support you? How can I support you when you’re digging us deeper into the ground? We’re already so close to reaching the fucking limits. So close to becoming everything we’re trying not to be and then you continue on to pull this crap? It’s like you’re waiting for us to call it quits.”

Jungkook’s anger simmers beneath the surface, his grip on your hips tightening as he fully closes the distance between your bodies. His dark, sharp gaze is fixed on you, the air between you crackling with tension at the false accusation. A blend of frustration and desire when you meet his intense gaze, the moment overwhelming you, and without a word, he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate, fiery kiss.

The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and desire, the electricity between you undeniable. Each touch and movement speaks volumes, conveying a complex blend of emotions that words fail to express. As your lips move against his, you can feel the weight of the argument still hanging in the air, but for a moment, it's forgotten. Until he speaks against you. ‘‘That’s the last time you’re gonna accuse me of something so ridiculous. Got it?’’

Between heated kisses, angry whispers escape your lips. "You can't just expect me to follow blindly," you mutter, your voice laced with frustration. "We're too close to the edge already."

Jungkook’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his voice husky as he responds. ‘‘I know, but I’m trying.’’

It is all he says, and you fight the urge to say something back just because you feel like you’ve had enough for one night. You’re the one to pull away first, a flat hand to his hard chest as you push him off with ease, no fight, no nothing. The momentary connection fades and a sense of unease settles between you. You exchange a final gaze, unresolved emotions and unspoken words clear in the air. It’s obvious that the underlying issue remains unresolved, and with that, you both walk out of the ladies’ room together. Side by side, like everything is fine. The bitter taste of the argument still hangs onto your tongues but you choose to ignore it even though there is no way you can get rid of it tonight.

Jungkook stops before the bustling crowd, causing you to stop in your tracks as well. His hand delves into the inner pocket of his jack, retrieving his wallet as he goes through the contents. With a subdued voice, he offers you his card. ‘‘Here,’’ he says quietly. ‘‘Go buy yourself something to drink. I’ll be over there talking to some people if you need me.’’

You accept the money silently, a slight nod of acknowledgement before you part ways, heading toward the bar while Jungkook navigates through the crowd. As you order your drink, the bitterness of the argument still weighs on your mind, the unresolved issues swirling in your thoughts.

Your husband hasn’t spared you much of a second glance after he handed you the money, already too busy mingling with his colleagues to notice that the bottom of your cocktail glass is starting to show. As he brings his own glass back to his pretty lips to sip on his dry wine all the way on the other side of the lobby, you continue to listen to the nameless people around you and the award he might be winning tonight. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—it might drive you crazy.

It drives you crazy, and you would probably never admit it out loud, but you feel smaller without Jungkook’s presence so close to you, without his arm secured around your waist, your chest tighter than he seems to realize. You don’t need him to feel confident, you know. You don’t need any man in order to make you feel secure about yourself. Though tonight, even though it is only for a little while, his absence feels a little more pronounced than usual, and you don’t like to feel like some fraught, single woman in her late 20s. It unsettles you, and you don’t mean to feel like it.

You’re counting fifteen minutes when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Jungkook seems to be in his element, watching as you occasionally meet his eye from across the room before he rips his gaze off you, interrupted by another coworker every two minutes as they block your sight. More small talk with the man of the night as he’s sucking it up like second nature. Adoring the constant praises he’s receiving throughout the entire event. A charming smile paints his features, one that makes him look smug as hell.

“That dress makes up for the fact that you look like you don’t want to be found dead in here.” A low voice booms from behind the bar, “Valentino, no?”

The rim of the cocktail glass in your hand detaches from your lips when you realize you’re being spoken to, another spot painted a smoked almond shade at the edge. “Good eye,” you nod, high heels impatiently tapping against the steel of the barstool. It’s the first interaction since the Choi couple took notice of your distress, and suddenly, you feel a little less invincible. .

“I know a thing or two.” The owner of the velvety voice reveals himself, emerging from behind the massive camera cradled in his veiny hands. Smooth, jet black curls cascade over his forehead as a troublesome grin broadens on the unknown’s glistening lips. He briefly catches your eye before shifting his focus back to the display in his grip. Rounding the bar, he comes to sit at the edge of the stool next to you. “You seem to be a natural. Ever thought of a career shift and dropping this business ordeal?”

The picture on the display reveals. It’s not bad, you look greater than any other night, the effort you put in tonight’s look clear to see. But he’s joking, though you can barely crack a smile. “Oh, please, I’m just a plus one.”

“I see.” The man who you now assume to be tonight’s cameraman leans over the edge of the bar as he allows his camera to hang low at his neck. He subtly searches for your eye and when you meet his gaze, indicating that he’s got your attention, he pulls his focus back to the crowd, a finger beneath his nose as if he’s deep in thought. “So, which one of those pricks is responsible for making you sit here by yourself all night?”

You roll your eyes but a suppressed snicker betrays your amusement, prompting the corners of his own mouth to lift as well. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore the derogatory remark about your husband, though it might feel good if someone else would openly share your sentiments right now. “The same prick I’ve been with for the past six years,” you point Jungkook’s way when you speak, leaning a little more to the man’s side to give a good point of view. “He’s a busy guy,” you remark, Jungkook looking devilishly expensive when he’s networking, his navy blue Prada suit shimmering beneath the dim lightning. His jet black hair is slicked back and he’s never looked sexier before. Such a shame you’re not talking.

“The man of the night himself.” The guy huffs at your side, back leaning against the bar as he’s no longer interested in Jungkook, eye solely on you now. “I’m not really supposed to shoot plus ones tonight, he’d have to be in the picture for that,” he taps at his camera. “A shame he’s too busy to bat an eye when she’s looking this lovely tonight.”

A dagger to the heart, but you take it lightly. You pause as you finally take a good look into this sharp, cat-like gaze of his. A sly looking smile tugs at the corners of his lips when your eyes meet. “Complimenting a married woman? How audacious of you.”

He shrugs indifferently. “He isn’t doing it, so,” he says nonchalantly before he pulls himself together, a polite hand to his chest when he speaks. “Pardon me. It’s just that I’ve never been good at keeping thoughts to myself.”

You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”

He catches on to the challenge that’s hidden in your voice, the slight attitude you’re subtly bringing over. He pauses for a moment, reading your face before he continues. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly, though his voice is low enough to recall mischief. His eyes lower a little down your dress before he takes out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. I’m tonight’s photographer.”

You accept his hand, hot and tight around your own. It feels refreshing in some way or another, his eyes locking with yours again when his head tilts just slightly, tongue slipping out to wet his pink lips. “It’s good to meet you,” You tell him, returning your prettiest smile, “I’m ___.”

Taehyung stills. “God damn.” He curses quietly, just a whisper above his breath. “I knew you had to be from someplace else—you’re one of Minnie’s girls.”

His words take time to process. There is only one Minnie you’d know. “You mean, Minnie Chang?” You query, frowning when his knowing finger bounces your way. “My modeling agent? You know her?”

“Sure,” he beams, shoulders visibly relaxing as he sits at the edge of his seat. “I run shoots with Minnie’s girls all the time. We just wrapped up an upcoming November issue. It’s such a pity she never sets me up to shoot your covers, we use your references all the time.” His sharp eyes darken, running down your figure again. “We’d kill the job together, if you’d ask me.”

Your cheeks flush a little at the statement. “Oh, well, we probably would.” You stumble, still trying to catch on. “Though Minnie no longer works for me. I quit modeling some time ago, which is probably why we never worked together.”

Taehyung’s pretty lips part when his head tilts even more, a light and humorless chuckle escaping. “I mean, do tell me you’re screwing with me.” The smile ghosts his lips, though this time a little died down. Your silence answers his questions and the sheepish grin only adds on to it. “Forgive me for being so straightforward, but I’ve seen your works, ___. No one in their right mind would want to give such potential up for some mingling on the side bar.”

Taehyung jokes again but there’s a bit of truth hidden in it, and neither of you dare to laugh too loudly over it. You sigh, bringing the glass back to your lips even though your drink is almost finished. “You’d be surprised what love does to people.” You chuckle but it holds no humor, you just sound so ironic. Taehyung’s eyes rip away from you to scan the lobby in search for the man in question, easily found in the sea of people because Jeon Jungkook just works like that. Wherever he goes, your husband seems to carry this magnetism with him. People fall in love with him left and right, and you don’t blame them for it. Look at where you are. “I wanted to go wherever he went. Now I’m just trying to live up to the consequences.”

Taehyung hears as you try to laugh it off, chuckling softly and unable to match your energy. “I’ll give you my card,” he then decides, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket as a set of protests already stumble off your lips. “No buts,” he warns. “My office line is on there. Do whatever you want with it, but just know that you can always hit my line whenever you’re done dealing with the consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you start but it holds no weight, watching as he nips the piece of paper in between his fingers. “You don’t gotta do that.” His eyes draw back to your lips before they flicker back to meet your gaze, the curly locks at his forehead almost preventing you from doing so, seemingly darkening his eyes.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, ___.” His voice lowers, deepening as his breath almost fans your cheeks. It’s hot. A little alarming. “I own a studio downtown where we could meet up someday. I’ll shoot us a couple photos, and if you want, we could add some to your portfolio. If it feels right, you’ll know,” he says, clearly catching on to the glint in your eyes. “If it doesn’t, then all I am is wrong. But you can’t convince me you’re feeling content, sitting on the sidebar waiting for that idiot to come to his senses.”

You know Taehyung just earned himself a slap across the cheek for the degrading comments about Jungkook. For the assumptions he’s so quick to make when he’s met you five minutes ago. Probably no less than a hard push against the shoulder too, but you hold back from doing so when his words speak to you in some way. Somewhere not so deep down, you know Taehyung made some points. It has nothing to do with the rich cologne that embraces you when he stands this close, or the darkened gaze that tries to meet your own when you rip your eyes away.

“Take it.” He waves his card in the air before he gently tosses it at the bar in front, next to your empty glass. “I don’t expect you to do anything with it, but it’d feel good knowing you have it. Who knows what good it’ll bring.”

You don’t hesitate but pause anyway, meeting his eye and the moment that famous grin paints his lips, you can’t stop yourself from copying it. “Thank you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.” You say, taking his card.

It surprises you how at ease Taehyung makes you feel afterwards. Once his card is out of sight, hidden in the safety of your handbag, he doesn’t pry further about any more modeling shoots or your forgotten career. Nor does he bring Jungkook up again, even though everyone else around you can’t seem to shut up about the man. It’s a peaceful feeling, distracted from the eye of reality because of this man who excels at making small talk. He’s chatting away about his camera, pointing at elements you don’t know the names of as he explains the functions of them.

You don’t listen. You haven’t been listening for a while and wonder how you stumbled upon this topic instead. It’s not a bad thing; Kim Taehyung makes you feel comfortable and that’s all there is to it. You appreciate him for fading your surroundings off.

It doesn't take long before a large hand rests above the swell of your ass, stroking sweet circles there. “Are you ready? They’ll start presenting the awards soon.” Jungkook’s voice booms at your left, sending a jolt of surprise through your body. You turn to face him, finding him standing there with his usual confident demeanor, contrasting with the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The touch of his hand on your backside feels a little more possessive the longer you take your time to respond.

You glance over at Taehyung, who also seems to have noticed the change of atmosphere. His expression remains composed, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say before you hop off the barstool and recollect yourself. “It was so good meeting you, Taehyung. I hope we get to talking soon.” You slide your mini bag over your shoulder, an apologetic smile at your lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you so occupied, I know you’re on the clock.”

His lips only curl into a warm smile that seems to reassure you, a small shake of his head shrugging you off as if to say you shouldn’t have to worry. Your attention reverts back to Jungkook, noting that his gaze is already fixed on you as he searches for something you can’t decipher. “Okay, I’m ready,” you repeat, this time a little more determined. He nods quietly, hand curling at your waist before he leads you the way towards the ceremony, eager to be gone, but not before he steals a look at the older man by the bar, tongue in his cheek. A hint of playful defiance glimmers in Taehyung’s eyes and Jungkook wouldn’t know for the love of God what it means.

The following hour ends up not being as dreadful as the previous ones. Jungkook still guides you throughout the night with prolonged small talk and half-filled champagne glasses which you’ve grown tired of drinking. Nobody is paying attention to the wife of, much to your luck, because it gives you the opportunity to slip into your own world with Jungkook’s hand still snaked around your waist. Taehyung’s words ghost your head instead, and as much as you try not to, you sneak a glance his way every now and then.

You can’t help it. It’s been some time since someone recognized you as anybody else than Mrs. Jeon Jungkook. The lucky one who gets to wear designer dresses and expensive jewelry with a zipped mouth on her face. The brief minutes spent with Taehyung were cut short, but reminded you of your own persona. So hidden behind the shadows of Jungkook’s success that you almost forgot you once had built the start up of a successful career as well.

You can’t think in this room. The warm air is rising to your head and all you can hear is the low murmurs of Jungkook and his colleagues at your table. You start to wonder things. Big things. Like, what if Taehyung wasn’t the only person who believed in continuing the neglected modeling career you were so desperate to let go of some time ago? What if he wasn’t the only one and you’re just meant to find the right people to support you? What if that dream was worth pursuing, now still, after all this time accepting this is what your life was going to be like; a bitter housewife in the suburbs forever holding on to a forgotten career.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook queries on your side, eyes lingering on you for too long and you don’t care to return it. His hand travels to your upper thigh beneath the table cloth but you barely process it, head too clouded with whatever you’re worrying about to take notice. “You seem distracted.” He says, his large hand resting there without much thought, warming the skin up as he gently starts rubbing in circles.

“Yes,” you say though there is a pause to it, one where you hold your breath as you wonder if you should say more. You know he doesn’t like it when things start getting personal when all these people surround you, but you’re so close to the edge. You turn to him, knees touching. “I just need some fresh air. Hand me the car keys?”

He stares at you for a moment, a look shared that tells you he’s trying to read you even when you’re shutting him out. An arm lazily rests atop the backrest of your chair as he sighs through his nose. “They’re starting soon.” He breathes out like he hasn’t said it a thousand times already. “And you’ve been drinking. I’m not handing you anything.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not drunk and I’m not driving. I’m just gonna sit in the car and take a moment for myself.” it’s your turn to sigh, a bite to your words that Jungkook easily catches on to. His eyes narrow, lips growing into a thin line. “What is it, are you not allowing me?”

His chest grows tight when he hears your words, the sassy attitude not gone by dismissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t you take half an hour longer?” His voice lowers in case anyone overhears, the back of his fingers reaching to stroke over your cheek softly. “Batting those pretty lashes the way you do it so well?”

His comment flies to your head, hitting you like a slap to the face and you search his eyes for some sort of sincerity. Some sort of remorse for spitting that degrading shit in your face like that. You notice the way people perceive you as the wife of Jeon, how they look at you because you’re just one of his pretty things. You’re aware. And you don’t need anyone to tell you, because you could care less about them. Though when the confirmation slips from Jungkook’s lips, you swear he turns the switch inside you.

“You’re an ass.” The feet of your chair screech loudly against the floor tiles of the lobby, the sound of it making heads turn your way with curious gazes. And unlike your husband, who seems troubled upon the sudden attention, you couldn’t care less, storming out of the quiet lobby like your Jimmy Choo heels are meant for you to stomp off the way you do.

You hear a faint call of your name even though it doesn’t take long before you reach the main entrance doors and fumble your way out. The anger rises to your head and you consider you might have done Jungkook a favor with the way you made it out so quickly.

It takes a couple minutes before the swinging doors you just erupted from come to a loud shut once more, revealing a heated Jungkook sauntering down the stairs. “Get moving. You were the one who wanted to go home,” He doesn’t spare you another glance when he passes you by with a pinched expression. Both your jackets hang from his arm but he doesn’t care to hand you yours, quick to rush to his Benz with you right behind him.

The only sound that fills the air is the angry stomping of your feet, Jungkook’s not as prominent as your own heels clack loudly against the pavement. “I just needed a minute out. I never said you couldn’t finish your little act in there,” you retort, frustration lacing your voice.

He opts to ignore your remark at first, jaw set and focus straight ahead. Though the more he repeats your words in the back of his head, the faster his own spill out. “I asked you not to throw a scene and you go ahead and do it anyway,” he sneers, unlocking the back door before he throws your coats on the backseats. Slamming it just as loud. “For what, ___? Couldn’t stand not being the center of attention for one night so you pull this shit?”

Jungkook is fast to open the door to the driver’s seat but you beat him to it. Slamming his door back shut only to earn one of his lethal, disturbed looks. “You take that back.” You point an accusing finger his way, trapping yourself between his hovering body and the car. “For years, I’ve been tagging along to these stupid events like some luxury piece on the side. Supporting and loving you from behind your huge ego,” you huff, a pillow of air rushing from your lips and into the icy air. “All the while you choose to show me off whenever you feel like it when I’ve been happier for you than anyone in there—’’

“Have you?” His lips curl inwards, sharp eyebrows tightening. “Because the second you heard about some promotion, a couple more hours added to my contract, you start freaking out. Running out there like the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t, ___. Get it out of your head.”

“Jungkook—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly waves you off, pointing an angry finger back to the building you just came out of. “You know I’m winning an award at this very moment? I’m reaching the tip of the iceberg tonight, and instead of celebrating it, I’m out here trying to keep you sane.” Jungkook grunts, hand falling back to his side. “I didn’t see Jung fucking Hoseok do that last year when he won that damn award. His partner stood beside him, supporting him while he accepted the prize.”

You maintain eye contact, no matter how much fire swims in his gaze. “I know you didn’t just compare me to your coworker’s wife.” You scoff loudly, “Jung Hoseok probably has the decency to include his partner in every major decision he makes. Including promotions that will require your everything, Jungkook. If that was our case,” your finger swats back and forth between your raging bodies, “then yes, I would love to be that kind of wife for us. But I’ve done that for a long time. I can no longer be like her.”

Jungkook groans, stepping closer and causing you to press your back flat against his Benz. “Maybe Jung Hoseok works his ass off to earn such a prize in the first place, knowing his wife is there. On his side. No matter the case.”

“Well, maybe that is because Jung Hoseok and his wife never stopped loving each other!”

Little puffs of air escape your lips and the statement leaves you a little breathless when realization strikes through. They mold together with Jungkook’s, who also seems to need a moment to register whatever it was you just spat in his face. His aura changes not much longer after, eyes digging into yours with the tip of his tongue running over the back of his teeth. Jaw set tight with a dare running in his gaze. He looks down at you with heavy lids, and when you stay quiet for longer than he was hoping, he speaks up. Though the voice is low enough to pass as a warning.

“You want to repeat that for me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes as you try to place a somewhat reassuring hand to his burning chest, it’s hot and under fire beneath your palm. You didn’t mean to slap him across the face like that. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean you and I—’’

“I don’t care what the fuck you meant.” He says slowly, swatting your hand off him with an intense gaze. “Repeat that for me.”

You shake your head, keeping it up high even with the way he’s looking down on you. You can stand your own ground as well as him. “Kook, I’m not going to repeat myself when I didn’t mean to say that.” You argue, arms folding.

Jungkook locks eyes for much longer than is necessary, like he doesn’t believe you and he’s trying to find some sort of truth in them instead. Hands now situated in the pockets of his dress pants, he leans his weight down on one leg. “Then get in the car.” He then simply says, tone a bit too composed to ease you down. “We’re going home.”

“No,” you argue back with a stern voice. You’re both upset, incredibly so. The last thing you need to do right now is push your anger to the sidelines. “We’re not done talking, Jungkook.”

“We’re done.” He’s quick to tell you, taking a step back before and impatient, sharp eyebrow arches. The weight of his body on one leg. “I said, get in the car, ___. You wanted to go home? Let’s go fucking home.”

The bite in his voice is evident to send the warning through. He is just standing there, hands casually hidden in his pockets as he glares down at you, patiently waiting for you to get moving. You shoot him a look, something that says something along the lines of, seriously, this is how we’re gonna do this? He nods once. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all you’ll get.

Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.

Jungkook is quick to get in the driver’s seat when you huff and round the car, the silence quick enough to break through the tight space once the doors slam shut. For a brief moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at the packed parking lot without another word exchanged. You know Jungkook needs a moment to collect himself before he gets off driving you both home, but he is not the only one in desperate need to let go of some steam. The tight gripped hand around the wheel, where his knuckles turn a pale white is telling you enough about his current state. He hasn’t even stuck the key in the ignition yet and that might be for the better.

He finally looks at you without a word and you don’t back down from the challenge. He still fumes with fire when your gazes meet, lips tightly pressed together. The man watches you like a hawk, right hand still planted at the steering wheel as he stares back down at you from over his shoulder—seemingly no intention to drive off anytime soon. You seem to glow with a heated bitterness and he finds himself feeling a similar way. It does little to intimidate you, though.

Rage consumes you and the silence only seems to worsen it. You’ll have to voice your thoughts or you might go feral. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.”

He scoffs, bits of amusement tugging at the edges of his lips. “Don’t get me started, princess.”

Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.

Your eyes narrow, challenging him. “Go get started, Kook,” a dare drips off your mocking voice, low and anticipating when you raise a single brow. ‘‘I don’t mind.’’

And just like that, something in the air shifts. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drag down your glossy lips without an ounce of shame, or the noticeable fact that his pants are starting to tighten around his crotch area. Your eyes fall down there. You can’t helpt, and neither do you mean to hide it.

“You don’t want me to, baby. Trust me.” He asserts, tone firm and unwavering.

“Try me.”

Time seems to go still and Jungkook seems like he’s hesitant, eyes flickering down your lips one or two times too many. There’s not much sentiment found on his features. No pretty little smile at the lips, and no softened gaze roundening his eyes. Instead, his jawline is locked so tight, you’re able to catch each huff and puff that leaves him. The silent battle of wills unfolds between you. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if debating whether to succumb to your request or stand his ground.

However, Jungkook is a raging mess, all he needs right now is an outlet.

“Damn it,” He curses before he slams his lips onto yours. A surprised, muffled gasp falls from your mouth into his when your noses angrily collide, finding the right amount of balance when a tattooed hand reaches the back of your neck to keep you in place. His lips feel velvety against yours, soft and inviting despite the intensity of his movements. Even though his moves are much rougher. Much more raw.

You respond to the passionate kiss with the same intensity, kissing him back just as hard with your hand steady at his jaw. His own hand hides at your nape, both of you hovering over the storage box in between your seats like two horny teenagers hiding in his big brother’s car. Moans escape his lips and resonate against yours. Youthful desire builds the intensity, sending sweet tingles straight to your core.

‘‘Fuck, come here,’’ Jungkook utters, exhaling heavily as he settles back into his seat.

Not one to resist, you swiftly maneuver your way into the driver’s seat, straddling him with both legs on his either side. His hands instinctively find place at your lips as you lean in to capture his lips in a heated, messy kiss where you hold onto his jaw and push the back of his head to his seat. However, tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, he can’t let you take control.

Jungkook’s kisses become fervent as he pushes you against the steering wheel with a bit more force than intended, causing it to dig into your back with a sharp yelp eliciting into the air. The soft gasp you breathe out as you try to catch on easily gets ignored by him. Still adjusting to the rapid pace, his hands tenderly explore your backside, rubbing in sweet circles before moving down to roam over your ass.

His slender fingers carefully tug at the hem of your dress before he rushes to ride it up your thighs, just until your bare ass hovers above the growing bulge that’s hidden away in the dress pants that now seem too tight around his thighs for his own good. It is no longer something you could ignore even if you wanted to. Not with the way his cock throbs against your panties; the thin material of his slacks not helping much to create a decent barrier.

Nonetheless, you don’t seem to care when you shamelessly start to grind down on his clothed erection. He groans on your skin when you throw your head back, fingers playing while they tangle through his slick locks as if to guide his mouth. “Sit still,” he angrily mumbles, though he doesn’t try to still your hips from humping onto him.

“Don’t wanna,” you stubbornly mutter in response, tugging tighter at his hair in the hopes of a response. You have to hold the evil smirk that's threatening at your lips when you shift back and forth in his lap with a much quicker, more dangerous pace. “Make me?”

His mouth stills at your neck and a rush of satisfaction wavers over you. Jungkook’s hot breath fans over the same spot his lips were just pressed against, slow to look back up at you. Only to find you grinning in his lap like a fool. “You got such a big mouth on you tonight.” He murmurs so close to your lips like he’s planning on kissing you again. Heavy lidded eyes stare back at you in the dark when his middle finger hooks around the lace of your thong at your ass. “Such a big mouth but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. What a terrible trait, sweetheart.” He teasingly tugs at the thong, rubbing the material in between your sweet cheeks.

Your hands reach behind you, reaching for the zipper at the back of the dress before you start to unzip it. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” You sing, tweaking the straps off your shoulders with a teasing grin. What are you waiting for? Undress me, is what your eyes tell.

God. He can’t stand you.

His lips are on yours within a heartbeat. And neither of you plan to let go without a fight.

It’s like both of you are fighting for dominance over the other as the kiss grows more intense. Noses angrily bump into each other, teeth clash and bite into the already swollen flesh of your lips. You’re so engrossed in the lip biting and breath sharing that you barely realize Jungkook pulling down your dress with force, the latex now hunched around your waist to reveal your bare chest. It is only when his fingers reach out to pinch your hardened nipples when you break free from him, the sensitivity growing into excitement before it runs straight to your core.

“Hm, so sensitive baby.” Jungkook hums with a pleased grin threatening on his face, pinching a few more times at the sensitive buds. “I have a feeling you’re all bark and no bite tonight. How come?” He asks quietly. “Felt ignored because I didn’t look at your pretty tits all night? ‘Specially when they’re looking so nice and swollen for me right now, mhm?”

He dives down and wraps his pretty lips around the perky bud when you don’t respond on time, tonguing and nipping until he can hear you squirm on top of him. “I knew that was it.” He mumbles, letting go with a lewd pop. You almost don’t catch it with how low he is speaking, almost like you’re not even meant to hear him in the first place. His tattooed hand gently massages your other breast in the warmth of his palm. “Baby feels neglected the moment the focus isn’t on her. Ain’t that funny?” He chuckles humorlessly, something far away from genuine laughter and you don’t manage to crack a smile either. “Now she’s on top of my cock waiting to get fucked like she wasn’t acting like a total brat back there. Like brats deserve to get fucked nice and slow.”

You push Jungkook back against his seat by the chest, his head lazily lolling back without much surprise as he patiently waits for your next move with a darkened gaze. He knew he was going to press your buttons some time soon. Both your heart and head are fuming. “Not true.” You argue weakly before you decide it’s your turn to pepper angry kisses at the silky skin of his neck. Your grip tightens at his throat, right beneath his jaw. Only to keep him still, you convince yourself. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” You mumble against the hot skin, surprised he’s able to understand your muffled words.

Your hand isn’t that secure around his throat, but he decides to play along nonetheless, keeping his head locked to his seat. “So I’ve heard, sweetheart.”

You ignore the cheeky comment and instead allow your free hand to fumble with the leather belt wrapped so deliciously around his hips. You continue biting and licking in the crook of his neck, not caring if any purple marks find their way there. Jungkook swallows back a whimper of relief when your hasty hands unbuckle his gold coated Montblanc belt. His dress pants aren’t even supposed to be this tight fitted around his crotch area, even when he’s hard. Though it’s no secret Jungkook has been working on his thigh muscles throughout the years. And to say it has served him right would be an understatement.

“Take me out, sweetheart.” He breathes when you dip your hand inside, not yet granting him the pleasure of pulling out his cock just yet. Cupping him over his boxers instead, you suck his quiet moans up like second nature.

Jungkook’s hips eagerly buckle into your grasp and you contemplate on giving him the satisfaction this early on, because even you are growing impatient. Instead, you continue stroking his cock over his boxers, rubbing up and down his length with more pressure as you watch him exhale through his nose. Jungkook’s adams apple moves at his throat when he swallows tightly, eyes shutting in frustration.

You bring your lips to graze over his cheek, so sweet and romantically as the two of you are. Hot and sharp breaths fan on his skin. “Stop bossing me around, will you, Kook?”

He breathes lowly; still through his nose as his chest heaves up and down. Almost like he’s holding himself back from doing things you can’t handle. “Spoiled girls need someone to boss them around.” A sharp sting tingles at your ass, realizing he just spanked you there, the sudden cry you let out in the shell of his ear explaining why his large hands are now soothingly caressing the sensitive skin. “They turn into brats the minute someone doesn’t put them in place. Did you already forget the way you acted tonight, babe?”

He gently continues to knead your ass in his big hands. “You’re just as responsible as I am for that.” You whimper weakly, deciding you’ve had enough when you take Jungkook’s thick cock in hand and out of his pants and boxers. He’s warm, heavy and angry in your grip, red and swollen tip staring back at you when he’s fully out. You raise a brow at the sight. “But it seems like you don’t mind it right now.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he despises more at the moment. The way the shit-eating grin on your face only seems to spread the longer victory consumes you, or the way his dick twitches when your hand tightens around his shaft. Jungkook holds back his grunts. Adding free coins to your egoism is the least bullet point on his to-do list.

“Careful,” he speaks with a warning, eyes flickering back down your lips before the tips of his fingers slide down your covered slit from the back. They rasp against the black lace a little before he adds more pressure where your hole is covered, content to feel your soaked cunt leaking through the fabric. Continuing to feel up to the damp spot, he speaks. “You’re not one to talk when you’re dripping like this. Take this off for me, sweetheart.” He hints at your panties even though he is the one dragging the lace down your legs already.

For as far as his cramped Mercedes allows you to reach down atop his muscled thighs, you make sure you’re at a safe distance before a chunk of spit runs off your lips and onto his throbbing cock. Jungkook groans loudly, hips rutting up when you start pumping him with a tight grasp. You maintain eye contact while you do so, addicted to the way his hazy gaze angrily stares back at you, free hand moving to knead his balls. Your thumb grazes over the head, silently massaging his slit where you spread the precum over the rest of his leaking cock.

“Fuck,” you curse, the wetness coating your fingers. “Want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah.” You repeat.

Jungkook’s hands tighten at your waist, digging into your skin. “None of that.” He then mumbles, earning a confused frown from you. “Rub yourself against my cock, baby. Need to feel how wet this tight cunt is for me.”

“God.” You roll your eyes like you mean it, but your pussy starts to throb at the thought already. He knows it does. How could he not? Jeon Jungkook knows you from the inside out; knows what you like and what you don’t like. Six years of being with you has taught him that much. And because of that, Jungkook is not one to wait around for you to make your move and pushes his hands harder at your hips instead, guiding your bare cunt towards his cock.

“That’s it.” Jungkook lets out a low groan from the base of his throat, the pressure at your hips slacking down once you take over with a slower, more experimental pace. His head falls back and his thick neck comes into view instead, velvety skin on display when your cold fingers hide to intertwine at his nape again. Wet lips drag over his cock and spread wider the more pressure you add. “Look at you soaking my cock like you’re ready to ride it. As if girls like you deserve to be stretched out in the first place.”

“I deserve it.” You nearly stutter when you find the right amount of pressure, your clit now directly rubbing against his head.

He hums softly at your engrossed self. “Yeah?” He continues to ask. “You think you deserve to fuck yourself off on this cock?”

You can only nod in return when your pace increases and eyes shut tight. Jungkook takes sight of the teeth that dig into your lower lip and nails that scratch at the skin at the back of his neck. He moans a little at the sharp feel, his own chest heaving up and down when the blood rushes to his cock. “Can’t hear you, baby.” He pushes when you continue to rock against him without another word, his tattooed hand spanking your ass cheek again to grab your attention. “Need words to decide if I’m letting you ride me.”

It’s not an easy job to pry your eyes open again when your cunt is so deliciously dragging against him, but you manage to do so with heavy lids. “Not to bruise your ego, babe,” you breathe out, thumb padding on his slit as if addressing an obvious issue at hand. “But you’re not really in a position to make demands either.”

He huffs out some air, the warmth of it fanning against your lips. You know you’ve got him trapped without a comeback to throw back in your face when he pierces a single brow. “You should really do something about that mouth.”

“Thought you said you were gonna take care of that.” You boldly recall, clearly challenging him. “Or are you backing out so soon?”

Jungkook doesn’t care enough to defend himself against your assumptions. Instead, he nods his head to the backseat. “Get back there.” He instructs with pressed brows. “You won’t be so smart when you’re coming on my tongue.”

A dramatic sigh leaves your lips like you’re tired. Hands cupping his cheeks sweetly, the back of his head easily lolls to his seat so he looks up at you with those darkened, dangerous eyes. You take him into a slow and wet kiss where your lips seem to dance together in unison, breathing heavily into each other until his tongue presses between your parted lips in an attempt to enter. But you pull away on time. Still, only inches away from his face, his eyes glued to your lips. “You don’t have to eat me out. I can take you right now.” You heave with swollen lips brushing his.

“You know I don’t mind,” Jungkook frowns a little at the odd statement, fingers absentmindedly running circles at your hips again.

“I know you don’t.” You’re quick to speak, hands moving to rub at his shoulders. “But Kook,” you whine with an obvious pout, removing his grip off your hips before you guide his fingers to your dripping cunt, voice sweeter than candy as you watch him observing quietly. “Feel me—I’m so wet for you. Can’t I have you right now?”

A sense of relief already rushes through you when Jungkook’s fingers carefully pad at your wet lips, spreading them apart with a clear string of fluid sticking to his fingertips. “You’re soaked,” he says like you don’t already know, and you can only nod in agreement, the glossed and pouty lips never leaving your face. His cock grows harder in his pants at the feel of your hand cupping his own, hips rolling into his palm. “I won’t hurt you because we’re being eager, though.”

“Aw, come on babe,” you whimper like a little child. “I’ll let you know if it hurts...”

You watch him hesitate for a bit, playing it off when his finger sinks into your warmth. Subtle and careful at first, focusing on the way your walls tighten around the thick digit. You’re sucking him up like he’s meant to be there, silent moans hanging in the base of your throat when he starts pumping inside of you, deliciously curling at your walls. “I see what this is about,” you say with an edge cut sharp, a moan already at the tip of your tongue when his pace increases. ‘‘You’re scared you’ll bust the moment you’re in deep.”

You’re obviously teasing him. Evident in the way your heavy eyes fall down on him with a slight curve at the corners of your lips. He scoffs anyways, your words getting to him whether you’re joking or not. “Please,” he laughs, a humorless chuckle thrown in your face. “We both know I got you creaming around my cock before I even get the chance to.”

You tug a little at his long, jet black locks that were slicked back so perfectly before. Watching as his head rocks back at the action. “Show me? Make me regret assuming.”

He visibly gulps, but not out of nervosity. No, Jeon Jungkook rarely gets nervous, especially not around the woman he spent a total of six years with. Instead, he wonders what to do with you and your crazy attitude. There is a quiet dare you’re exchanging and he catches on just as fast. Never being one to sit back down on a challenge. Especially not when it comes to you and your sneaky games. Though truth be told, Jungkook can be just as devious as you do it.

“Ride me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook’s green card causes your devious lips to form back into the familiar sweeping grin while your excitement flows straight to your cunt. You palm his cock in your hand, feeling as he gets harder in your hold at the sensation. Lining him up between your lips, Jungkook is found having a hard time keeping himself sane, watching you with thoughts drowning him as the head disappears in your tight pussy, already sucking him up like you’ve never taken him before. “Good girl. Go nice and slow for me.” He grunts quietly, fingers digging harder at your sides the lower you sink down and onto his cock. “So good to me whenever you want to, hm?”

Your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck and you feel him move with you, lips at your temples waiting in anticipation. Like he expects an answer. “I’m always good to you.”

“Whenever you want to,” he corrects with a sharp edge, hands roaming over your ass in soothing circles when he can feel your hot, short cut breaths in his neck, inhaling the fresh citrus smell of his fragrance just the way you’re used to. His own chest heaves up and down in hammered motions, cock deliciously brushing against your velvety walls when you take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Would’ve been much easier if you let me eat you out, sweetheart.”

“I can take it.” You whimper against his skin, stilling to let both of you adjust. Slumping down, chest against chest for a mere minute before you suck a sharp breath in when he reaches in between your bodies, thumb continuing to rub small and fast circles at your clit. “J- Kook,” you voice just above a whisper, his fingers circling with more pressure at your clit. “Kook...”

“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice vibrating at the shell of your ear when his lips are so painfully close. “Are you already starting to regret it? I knew you were bluffing, but damn, can’t even play pretend so soon?”

He’s mocking you with that annoying tone of voice, and everything in you wants to prove him wrong. To spare yourself the embarrassment of being caught slacking. Slowly, you start to move with his thumb still driving you insane at your clit. It’s a small and minor movement at first, making sure he feels every little drag of your walls around his angry cock before he gets the chance to open that big mouth again. Well, to be frank, it is open; pretty and plush lips slightly parted to let the moans die down on his tongue.

You remove your head off his shoulder just so you can catch the look on his face when you heave yourself up, only until his tip is inside you and the rest of his cock is already covered with your juices. He shoots you a look that tests your limits, but you’re not intimidated enough to back down and mirror him when you sink onto his cock once more. The familiar stretch of his thick shaft making both of you moan out in delight, blending perfectly together in the narrow space of his Benz.

“Fuck, Kook.”

His shoulders slump a little, eyes shutting tight and the sight of it only makes you bounce faster on his cock. His slight curve hits the sweeter, more sensitive spot with each roll of your hips and your head nearly falls back at the delicious feel. Sharpened nails dig into his blouse at the shoulders but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind the slightest, probably too lost in his own pleasure to even notice. His tattooed hand reaches out to tug at your nipple some more, sweet moans of delight filling the air almost instantly.  

Jungkook got his veiny arm secured around the small of your waist, keeping you close enough to him to the point your breasts are pressed against his chest. Bouncing on his cock the way you do it so gracefully, you let your head fall down his shoulder, where your breaths become heavier and more ragged. “So eager for someone you claim no longer to love,” he hisses, seizing the opportunity to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin at your neck, just beneath your jaw. “Isn’t that what you said, baby? That we no longer love each other?”

“I didn’t mean it,” you groan, uttering out the words as he bites down even harder, intensifying the searing sensation in the heat of your neck.

His fingers curl at your hips, guiding them up and down above him with a delicious stretch of his cock at your walls. “So what,” he drawls, jaw twitching when your pussy tightens around him. “You said it just to say it?”

One thing about Jungkook is that, even after all these years of being married to you, he never tells you what the deal is about. You said something you weren’t supposed to? Sure thing, but he needs you to figure out what you did wrong yourself. Being the business man at heart, he has taught himself since his early college days to be straight forward and precise. Straight to the point. A no-nonsense approach with an ability to cut through the fluff. It’s a dance you’ve become familiar with. Maybe all he wants to hear is an apology, some cue that indicates a hint of regret—he himself isn’t even so sure. Maybe he just wants to know if you meant it.

Between heavy gasps and angry moans, you manage to speak, voice strained with a mix of arousal and remorse. “I... I didn’t mean it in the way you think,” you pant, the words barely audible in between your entangled bodies. “I was angry... and lashed out.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping onto you in a way that makes your hips still with only the tip of his cock inside. Your pussy pulses around nothing, desperate for the release he’s been building up so effortlessly. “Yeah?” He huffs, hips lifting off his seat to buckle into you with harsher, deeper thrusts. You can barely breathe when his pace increases and the only sound that’s filling the car is skin slapping against skin. “You just had to have the last word, didn’t you? Baby couldn’t keep her pretty mouth shut so she spews shit like that out.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you argue back, lifting your head to meet him for a messy kiss you can’t keep up with. Not with the way his thrusts bounce you up and down his dick uncontrollably. Lips angrily dancing together like it’s your last time, moans molding together like it’s your last taste. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kook.”

Those slender, tattooed fingers run back down until he spreads your ass cheeks apart, gaining more control over you as you let him guide you throughout the thrusts. “Neither did I,” he says and you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. Rhythm becoming more focused than before, you notice his thrust seeming to slow down a little, though his dick reaches deeper, sweeter spots inside you that has you yelping into the tight air. “This pretty pussy about to cream my cock?”

You whimper with despair, head thrown back as he fucks into you from below. The tip of his dick reaches all your sweet spots each time his hips meet your ass, eliciting your head to fall back and exposing your velvety neck before him. “Fuck, yes,” Jungkook is quick to place his lips at your throat, soothingly swiveling his tongue around in circled motions. “You fill me up so well.”

“Do I?” He knows he does. Can feel how each drag of his cock in between your sweet, hot walls drives you a little more crazy. “Are you gonna make me dirty and cum all over me when I fuck you like this? Baby can’t take it?”

‘‘I can take it. Jungkook, please,’’ a lewd moan leaves your lips when his hand curls around your throat, heated and tight until he can feel you swallow against his palm.

Your pleads don’t fall on deaf ears when Jungkook firmly plants both feet to the floor, one hand tightening around your hip and the other around your throat. Lifting your hips until your warm walls are only wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pauses, locking eyes with you and keeping it there as if telling you there’s nowhere else for you to look at. He doesn’t give you any other warning before he’s thrusting into you, hips meeting your ass cheeks with force until he’s satisfied and buried to the hilt. “Keep your eyes open babe, want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He doesn’t move, keeping his cock deep inside you until you manage to pry your eyes open and meet his dark gaze, lips formed into a big O.

You do as he says, unable to get another word out when his hips draw back back, cock deliciously returning with another single, harsh thrust that got your tits bouncing up and down. It takes everything in you not to break eye contact, not to pinch your eyes to a tight close with the way he fills you so well. “Oh my God,” you choke out, barely audible as your hand wraps around his wrist by your neck, nails scratching against his sweet skin.

Jungkook sucks your whimpers up, watching your eyes grow heavier before he pounds into you again. Pace fastening with each thrust that becomes a little more precise and aimed to reach your sweet spot. Your moans grow uncontrolled and his name rolls off your lips with each thrust, the sound of your shaky breaths melting together with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slight curve of his cock so deep in between your walls, you have a hard time keeping it together.

“I said, eyes open. Keep them on me.” Jungkook rasps out in between his own heavy breaths when your eyes shut close again. “That’s it, my pretty girl.” Lewd whimpers fill the air and he’s loving every sound that comes from you, ego swelling at each whine and each sob you throw his way. 

‘‘Fuck, Jungkook.’’ Your moans fill up the tiny space with each drag of his cock hitting your sweet spots, you don’t know how much longer you can take it when he pounds into you so deliciously.

‘‘Shit, cum for me, baby. Cream my cock.’’ He groans out loud, reconnecting your lips in a breathless kiss as he doesn’t need to tell you twice. The wave of your orgasm running through you, body tensing as your juices coat his thick cock.

He’s panting now, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and as you coat him to the brim drives him insane. He pumps into you a couple times more before unloading inside. Your head falls back at the hot feeling of him filling you up, buried into you as he groans into the suffocating air.

It’s a funny thing, the way you and Jungkook operate.

Contrary to what many might assume, even after being together with the man for almost 7 years, you still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Finding yourselves grappling with a sense of uncertainty, far from a picture perfect commitment the way you’d think of marriage those years ago. It isn’t a pretty sight, but you figure either of you have gotten used to the same song, the same  rhythm that there is to your relationship, a dance of trial and error, where you stumble your way through challenges together, yet apart.

It defies logic when you put it that way. It isn’t a secret that you and Jungkook haven’t been able to make each other happy for quite some time, to put it plain and simple. Initially, the two of you were capable of hiding your worries beneath a thick blanket of luxury items and long office hours, and it’s not like much of that has changed, but the clock is ticking until Jungkook is leaving for his two-month business trip and you haven’t exchanged a word since the event two days ago. Since the heated sex in the driver’s seat of Jungkook’s Mercedez. Usually you’d just shrug it off, swearing no ignorant man of a husband is worth the wrinkles at your forehead.

So you’re not sure why you can’t seem to lift the weight of your shoulders off.

It feels wrong, that is. Wrong for Jungkook to leave you to fetch for yourself for two months without some sort of reconciliation. He tries to maintain some resemblance to your usual routine, you can tell. He continues to hold you during your sleep, an arm draped around your waist as you can hear the peaceful rhythm of his breaths. Though he isn’t close enough for you to feel his burning, bare chest against your back. He still brings back home dinner from your favorite Malay takeaway downtown, but doesn’t linger at the dinner table to make sure you eat everything to the last rice grain. He still surprises you with beaming jewelry you added to your wishlist months ago, but doesn’t stay to look how it adorns you.

Jungkook’s absence drains you.

It’s true. Not a fact you would ever admit out loud, but when push comes to shove, you might want him by your side every here and now. Yet at the end of the day, you’re a stubborn woman. Always have been and Jungkook knew it from the start. If he wanted to fix things between you before he leaves for his trip, then he would’ve done it by now.

‘‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’’ Your voice beams through the living room, Jungkook’s presence surprising you as you enter. Seated at the sofa, his back faces you as he’s dressed in his formal attire, elbows digging into his thighs as he’s typing away on his phone.

You linger at the arm of the sofa, gaze fixed at his side. There is a moment of silence that settles between you, filled by the quiet taps of his thumb against the screen. ‘‘My meeting got canceled,’’ he answers, voice tinged with a bit of weariness. ‘‘I only got a few hours before I have to get back.’’

The tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your guard remains there. ‘‘Oh,’’ you respond dryly, that being all you can give him right now, turning on your heel to grab your shoes and coat and move your way out of the house.

Slipping your shoes on with your coat hanging in the crook of your arm, the car keys rumble loudly in your grip. Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air, making you halt in your steps. ‘‘I was thinking we’d see Seulgi in the meantime,’’ He calls over his shoulder, barely turning around to see you eye to eye. ‘‘I just called and she says she got a gap free for us.’’

Your brows furrow and his words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes glue back to his screen, mindlessly scrolling through it and you wonder what is going on through his head. You saunter back to the sofa, weight leaning on one leg when you stand before him again. ‘‘Right now?’’ You ask, head tilting. ‘‘I’ve got things to do, Jungkook.’’

Jungkook sighs, setting his phone aside and clasping his hands together between his thighs. He musters a smile, though it seems more ironic than genuine. ‘‘Well, it’s kind of urgent, ___,’’ He smiles with closed lips though it seems ironic. ‘‘Considering the fact that I’ll be leaving in less than a week.’’

You stand there, feeling your feet glued to the floor. ‘‘That’s not on me,’’ you manage to utter, an accusation thrown in there. It’s almost like he’s shifting the blame on you. Like you were the one to tell him to get on that boat and leave for two months. ‘‘You were the one who wanted to go on that trip, Jungkook, not me. If you wanted to see Seulgi you should’ve planned it sooner because I already made plans for today.” You call, “I can’t just reschedule them.’’

You hold his gaze, your eyes conveying a mix of frustration and disappointment. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You realize that the disconnect between you and Jungkook runs deeper than this singular moment. It's a culmination of unaddressed issues and unmet expectations that have taken a toll on your relationship. ‘‘Can’t you see that I’m trying? I just want to make things right before I leave,’’ Jungkook sighs softly, ‘‘she already said she doesn’t do virtual sessions. You know this could be the last time in a long time for us to visit?’’

Your patience wears thin when your eyes meet. He looks at you like you get to cut through the ropes, which in fact, right now you do. But again, you're not the one to distance yourself for months on end. You can’t help but blame him. ‘‘That still isn’t on me.’’

You’re fast to turn on your heel, ready to leave him in that big house. But you don’t get far when a gentle grip takes your hand in his own. He takes you by surprise, turning to look at him when his eyes find yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold on to you, to keep you from slipping away. There’s a silent plea in his gaze, a plea for understanding and trying to make things right.

‘‘Why are you pushing me away?’’ His voice is quiet as he tugs at your hand, urging you to stand before him again.

‘‘I’m not,” you respond, your voice laced with a touch of defensiveness, giving up the fight to his gentle grip, where he guides you to stand between his legs.

“I’m trying to make amends,” he adds, his tone a little gentler than before. “I’m trying, but you won’t even tell me where you're going.’’

His words leave you a little hesitant, torn between the desire to hold onto your grievances and the flicker of hope that perhaps there is a chance for reconciliation. “I don’t see how it’s important where I’m off to,” you finally say, looking down at those big eyes that stare back at you. “I already made plans and that’s all there is to it.”

His grip on your hands tightens slightly, his thumb gently caressing the back of it as he searches for the right words. “It matters to me because I want to be there for us,” he says, his voice earnest. There is a vulnerability in his eyes, a genuine sincerity that tugs at your heart a little. “I leave in less than a week and I take full responsibility for that decision, but at least give me the chance to make things right before I leave.”

With a soft sigh, you release your hand from his grip and reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing up his cheeks as an amused, humorless smile paints your lips. “A single, last minute session with Seulgi isn’t going to ‘make things right’, Jungkook.” You mock him, softly pinching his cheek like he’s a child. You turn your back on him, gathering your things with your shoulder bag secured beneath your arm. “If anything, it’ll just make things worse the way we do it.”

Jungkook hears the chuckle that escapes your lips but can’t bring himself to crack a smile, unable to catch the joke at hand. Sharp eyes never leave your frame as you shuffle around the living room, collecting everything you need before getting out of the house. “Fine,” his voice booms through the room as he stands up with a huff, hands at his hips. “We’ll just sit here and talk if that’s the way you want to do it.”

“And then? You think that’ll do the trick?” You retort, bitter laughter escaping your lips. You can count the amount of times you and Jungkook could’ve just sat down just to talk and fix your issues on one hand. You’ve always been here, at the house, waiting for him to finish his shifts to do exactly that. Now his meeting got canceled and suddenly he got time for you?

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together, his own frustration rising to the surface. “I never said it would magically fix everything,” he shoots back, his tone matching your intensity. “But at least it shows that I’m trying, that I want to make things right before I leave.”

You scoff. “Trying? Is that what you call it?” Sarcasm drips off your voice when you finally turn to face him, seemingly ready to get your ass moving right then and there. “Fine. Let’s try when I get back home tonight.”

The haste kiss you place at his cheek nearly comes across as an insult, your lips barely lingering for a moment before you pull away. And just like that, you’re ready to fly out of the door, fueled by frustration and the desire to escape the argument that has consumed the room. Jungkook thinks you’re being childish, perhaps a little selfish when he watches the way you almost seem to float your way off. He understands that a two month business trip will only deepen the rift between you, but living like you’re strangers during your last days together, leaving with a packed suitcase on empty words—he doesn’t want to know what would happen in that case.

“What in the world could be a priority over an attempt to fix your relationship right now?” Jungkook’s voice rings just as your hand grips onto the doorknob, the frustration evident as his voice raises to catch your attention.

You pause on your tracks, still holding onto the doorknob with all you got. The impact of his question makes you halt, awfully familiar like you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Funny thing you ask that, considering I’ve asked myself that same question every time you head off to wherever you are needed at the time.” You retort, bitterness lacing on to every word. You hum like you’re thinking, “I never got an answer to that, by the way.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slump, his eyes searching for your understanding. “That’s because I’ve got a job. To provide for us, ___. You know that much so don’t go around acting dense, please.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the anger bubbling up inside you. “Oh, so now I’m acting dense? That’s how you see it?” The bitterness in your tone is impossible to conceal. “You can’t just use your job as an excuse every time it becomes convenient. Be fair, Jungkook, we wouldn’t even have this conversation if it wasn’t for your canceled meeting, so why make such a big deal out of this?”

His expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his face. “I do what I have to do for us,” he replies, voice tinged with frustration. “You’re right. I’m not always able to combine business and private matters the way I wish I’d be able to. But I try, and I work hard so we can live a comfortable life. Is that not important to you?”

Bitter laughter escapes you and echoes through the hall, watching as he reaches closer. “Of course it is, but I am not a second job to you. I refuse to be,” you’re quick to argue back. “We can have a talk, but it’s not going to be an easy one and we both know it. So if we’re talking, then it’s not going to be when you conveniently got a meeting that got canceled. You’re going to have to prioritize us and our issues if you really want it to work, Jungkook.”

“I’m ready to sit down and do exactly that, right now,” there is a fire that swims through his gaze as he says it, one that dares to tell you you’re in the wrong. The hesitation runs through yours, it’s all he can see the longer you lock eyes. “I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the day if that’s what it takes, ___.”

Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.

You can’t help it; his image flashes through your head without an ounce of control. Because right in this fleeting moment, the guilt chimes at your chest as Jungkook looks at you with expectant eyes.

Truth be told, the unfamiliar man had been on your mind ever since you talked to him at the event. It had much less to do with his good looks, his charming persona and much more to do with the topics you shared, the things he had to offer. Things you thought you had let go of a long time ago with a heavy heart and a hard pillow to swallow.

Modeling was no longer part of the game for you. It’s one thing you accepted a long time ago. The first night after the event took place, you managed to ignore that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, thinking that feeling would be gone in the morning, where all you had to worry about again was you and Jungkook, only to wake up and his offer being the first thing you could think of. You couldn’t get your mind off it even if you truly wanted to. Unable to help yourself, you couldn’t think of your meeting with Taehyung as much of a coincidence. Not when he was linked to your world of fame, to all the people you had let go of; the colleagues, the creative editors, the artists that you were once part of.

His card burnt the inner pockets of your handbag that night.

“Where are you heading off to that makes you want to say no?” Jungkook’s question pierces through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present as his voice brims with curiosity, his eyes searching for answers. Yet, you hesitate to respond, uncertain if revealing the truth would only complicate matters further.

“It’s nothing important, just personal matters.” You reply vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

The room descends into an uneasy silence, the tension thickening in the air. Jungkook senses your hesitation, his face contorted with frustration. “___, please,” he implores, voice tinged with hints of despair. “Personal matters? I’m your husband.”

Jungkook’s words strike a chord within you, the weight of his statement hanging heavily in the air. It’s not that you don’t want to tell Jungkook about Taehyung, about the session he promised you. It’s just that this is also something new to you. You don’t know what you want yet, you don’t know where this newfound opportunity with Taehyung might lead to. Discussing this with Jungkook only makes everything so much more official and binding.

“I met someone at the event—the photographer,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember him? His name is Taehyung,”

“Taehyung,” he repeats quietly, the question mark still visible at his forehead. His lips purse, searching your eyes for more clarity. “Yes, I remember him. What does this mean, ___?”

You can hear the impatience getting to him, the tension mounting between you both. “It means… we got to talking while you were networking with your coworkers,” you say, the statement leaving your lips a little saltier than you intended to. “So, the topic of modeling kind of came up in the conversation. Did you know he works with Minnie?”

“Minnie Chang? As in, your modeling agent?” His brows furrow, voice quiet enough for you to know this isn’t good news to him.

“Yes, her.” You nod along, unable to help the excitement growing at your chest. “Turns out Taehyung has been working with her on projects for some time. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, he still thinks I have some potential in the industry after all those years of neglecting it. He even gave me his card that night, says there’s no strings attached to it.”

“And now you’re off to a shoot with the guy himself,” he huffs as his arms fall limp to his sides, hands at his hips as he searches your eyes for something you can’t place. “I don’t get it, ___. I thought we agreed you were done modeling? You want to dive back into that world even though we got our own shit to sort out?”

“I know what we agreed on,” you argue back, taking a sharp breath. “It’s nothing big, Taehyung said so himself. It’s a one-time shoot and if I decide to do something with it, then I will.” His eyes tell you all you need to know, they’re sharp and dig into your skull. You drop your keys into your back with a sigh of disbelief. You can’t believe he’s doubting you right now. “But I know I won’t. It’s a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m looking for a fulltime job, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s frustration is palpable as he clenches his jaw, his voice tinged with bits of disappointment. “One-time thing or not, it’s about the principle, ___.’’ He says, more sternly than you’re used to when it comes to him. ‘’Seems like you’re ready to push our problems to the side this once. So why not twice? Or three or four times every time they'll call you in for another shoot?’’

You scoff, brow arching upon his daring words. Turning on your heel, you dart out of the door, beams of sun hit your face instantly. ‘‘You’re one to speak.’’ A humorless chuckle leaves your throat, the sour smile on your face still there even though it feels like it’s crumbling. ‘‘You’d finally know how that feels, then. When the person who is supposed to be there every step on the way just neglects you with a snap of the finger,’’ you angrily mumble, his own feet rushing after yours towards the car. You spin around once you reach it, feeling he’s hot on your tail. ‘‘It doesn’t feel good, I know, baby,’’ you say, voice laced with exasperation, ‘‘but you’re off on that trip in just a few days. Either of us are gonna have to get used to that feeling, whether we like it or not.’’

Jungkook’s footsteps slow down as he reaches to stand before you, towering over your smaller frame. ‘‘You can’t be serious,’’ he blurts, gesturing a hand towards his chest. ‘’Can’t you see that I’m making an effort? It’s not easy for me either, ___. I don’t want us to be apart any more than you do. So why push me away for some random shoot that just fell into your hands?’’

‘‘Because this,’’ a pointy finger swivels between your chests, emphasizing the growing divide. ‘‘This isn’t working.’’ The weight of your words press down on you, a heaviness settling in your chest. ‘‘It isn’t, and we’re still holding onto the last thread like it is. You and I need to come up with a new strategy or so help me God, we won’t last. Taehyung gave me an opportunity that night and I’m trying not to be miserable in this house, Kook. That’s all there is to it, I need distraction too.’’

You can tell he’s holding back. Can tell by the way he sucks in his tongue, jaw sharpening because of it as his lips turn into a tight line. ‘‘So this is it, then?’’ He asks, crossing his arms with a puffed chest. ‘‘Let’s stop trying and just hope for the best because you need a little something to distract yourself with. Correct?’’

“Don’t twist my words.” You snap, meeting his fierce gaze as the intensity of the moment grounds you both. “Fuck it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusing me of shit I didn’t even say,” you delve in your handbag, swearing you left your car keys somewhere in there.

You’re obviously hitting his last nerve. It’s clear, evident in the way he holds his index finger to his nose like he’s thinking. Frowned, sharp brows and a tight line of his lips as he weighs his weight to one leg. “We’re never gonna solve any of our shit if we keep running from it.” He says through gritted teeth, holding himself back from raising his voice at the driveway. “Do you want to make your point clear, is that it? Because I fucking got it. I’m a shit husband who puts zero time and effort into his relationship. I fucking got it. But I’m trying to get somewhere now,” he watches as you dig deeper into your bag, unable to focus on the task at hand with him fuming before you. “And now that I am, you’re feeding yourself into delusions because you want to be petty and are determined to make me feel the same way? Is that really what you’d rather do today, ___?”

“Please,” you repeat with a loud scoff, gaze burning into his. “Believe it or not, baby, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” you pinch his cheek in a mocking manner, not shocked when he’s quick to tear your touch off him. “Or at least, I’m trying not to make you my first priority, considering you’ve stopped doing that a while ago. If it taught me one thing over the years, it must be that it made me fucking miserable. Blame me all you want for not wanting to feel that way. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Baby,” he sings sweetly, a hand at your cheek as he makes sure your eyes stay locked together. He captures the fire blazing in your eyes, burning into his skull. “We can drop the big-girl act right now and head inside. I mean it,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Right now it’s your word against mine. I’ll pour us something to drink and we’ll sit down. Just you and me, that's all we need.”

You jerk away from his touch, the intensity of the moment still pulsing between you. Drop the act? You’re seething. Jeon Jungkook always finds a way to make the steam blow out of your ears. “I don’t need anything from you.” You snap without missing a beat, thankful for the way you’re magically able to find your car keys in one of the side pockets of your bag.

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, heavy with unresolved tension. You watch as his lips part, looking for words to argue with, but nothing comes out. It feels like a confirmation when it happens. You need to be anywhere but with him right now, and so does he.

Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.

It’s an obvious matter of fact which you can’t help but examine into detail. Taehyung’s fragrance fans you off in a refined way, a gentle and classy blend of notes that seems to match that charismatic, boxy smile he keeps sending your way. And while Jungkook usually dresses in formal designer attire, woody essence hanging in the crooks of his neck, Taehyung dresses not only to impress, but also to express his artistic soul. Loose button up tucked in black trousers that sway at his legs with each step, it comes to showcase his vibrant and flowy persona. The color palette, combined with that perfect set of teeth represents his chic, suave ways of working. It comes to contrast Jungkook entirely.

Maybe you notice it because you’ve nearly spent a decade with the man. By his side day in and day out with a commitment beautifully decorating your ring finger, straight to a point where you could no longer see through each other’s flaws. And maybe that is where Taehyung comes in as a fresh breath of air. Even now that you’ve only seen the man twice in a lifetime, you only seem to focus on all the ways he seems to differ from Jungkook.

Do you feel guilty about the fact you’re watching Taehyung like a hawk, the lens on him a little too focused to point out all the things Jungkook isn’t? Not really. Right now, you don’t really feel anything. You drove over to Taehyung’s studio with half a heart racing against your ribcage, all the things you and Jungkook told each other in the back of your mind even as you arrived. Fifteen minutes late and dissolved hair that seemed like a hand has been through it a couple times.

Taehyung didn’t question it and you’re thankful he kept quiet. The last thing you need to have on your mind is Jungkook. Not his angry words, not even yours. And the charming photographer did a great job at keeping your mind off him the first hour of the session, it’s not his fault.

“You hate them.” Taehyung declares at your side, the camera in his hands falling down to his lap in a defeated manner. He’s seated at the corner of the table, one leg dangling off it right next to your high chair.

“It’s not that I hate them,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the studio. Taehyung’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes holding onto a sense of curiosity. You feel the weight of his unwavering attention, and for a moment, Jungkook is all you can think of. “It’s more like I had forgotten how good this feels... all of this. Really, your shots are amazing. I guess I’m just kind of in shock.”

A tiny smile creeps up at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s only half the work with a model like you,” he snickers cutely, nudging at your side. “And I don’t want to make this an I-knew-it-better-moment, but... I kind of told you so from the start.”

You can’t help but return his smile. “I know, you’re a genius.”

“Your words, not mine.” Taehyung holds his hands up in defense, the smile that’s teasing at his lips enough to tell you he agrees. “So, what do you say? I’ve got a few empty portfolios in the back, we could print some of these photos out and make it yours.”

The wink he throws your way doesn’t go by unnoticed, his sneaky, encouraging grin filled with enthusiasm as he waits for you with a glimmer in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, lower belly piling with excitement at the idea of physically holding today’s shoot in your hands. Though the hesitation creeps at you, as if something stops you from letting that excitement flow out. “I don’t know, Taehyung…” You mumble, a toothy smile on your face even though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m gonna have to take that map home with me, and I’m gonna stare at those pictures for hours. It’ll drive me insane.”

Taehyung quirks a brow. “That’s the point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur quietly, and Taehyung is unable to pry his eyes off you, the grin from before now fading off and replaced with a concerned frown. “I know that’s the point. It’s just that... I don’t know. I’m going to want more.”

It takes a second before your words work through but the grin eventually works its way back onto his lips. Wide and closed-lipped with big effort, Taehyung fights hard to hold his toothy smile back, biting at his bottom lip to prevent it from happening. It’s cute how the little confession slips off your tongue and you’re so scared to see what the outcome could be. Taehyung shuffles at his seat at the corner of the table, shoulders relaxing. ‘‘I’ll give you more.’’ He says, and suddenly his cheeky demeanor is gone, looking at you like he’s closing down a deal.

You press your lips together but he can see the way you’re trying to hold your laughter back. ‘‘Taehyung, be serious.’’

‘‘I’m serious, ___.’’ He says, and it’s like he pronounces your name in slow motion. His pink lips pout a little as if he’s deep in thoughts, head tilting while your eyes lock. ‘‘I don’t see why not? You haven’t been on the job for years, the pictures obviously show that it comes to you like second nature… we’re a great team too, can’t deny that one.’’ He smiles charmingly, and it now results in you biting your bottom lips to prevent the cheeky smile from reappearing. ‘‘So, yes. I’d give you more if that’s what you wanted.’’

‘‘This is insane.’’ You nearly whisper, head shaking. ‘‘I mean, this is crazy, Taehyung. I’m not a model anymore. I can't just pick up where I left off, it’s been literal years and I probably just shouldn’t even think about it.’’

His shoulder leans into you, watching you ramble from beneath his black curls like he sees right through you. ‘‘Because of your marriage?” He asks, eyes shifting downward before he meets yours again and you’re uncertain where exactly they shifted towards, but it might be better if you don’t know.

You chuckle lightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. ‘‘I mean, sure. Jungkook’s my husband, he has some say about any of this.’’

‘‘Sure he does. But here’s a problem,’’ he says, a pointy finger in the air before it drops back to his lap. ‘‘You’re scared he won’t understand the purpose of it. Scared that he won’t be supporting you in all the ways you’ll need him. Right? Considering your husband is… sort of a prick. More or less.’’

You send him a scolding glare, one that’s not too hard on him looking at how you sketched Jungkook out to be that way in Taehyung’s eyes. ‘‘Tae,’’ you say quietly, ‘‘I know I mentioned some things about Jungkook back at the event, but really, he isn’t a jerk. Not a prick, or any of that sort. That’s only okay for me to say.’’ You add the lighthearted joke to keep the good atmosphere in the room. After all, you don’t blame him for thinking of Jungkook as a bad guy.

‘‘I get it, I’m overstepping my boundaries here.’’ He holds his hands up in the air, admitting defeat with that charming smile on his face. ‘‘But I’m just saying, ___. Relationships are important–marriage is important. But here’s the thing about you,’’ he pauses, voice lowering. ‘‘You have talent, undeniably so. I’ve captured it all today. And I truly believe that sometimes, you have to pursue your passions regardless of the risks. Regardless of anyone else if this is what feels right to you.’’ Taehyung holds his hands to his chest like he’s speaking from the heart and it makes you nervous how he says all these things like it’s so easy. So effortless to see the man you spend the last six years with as a risk.

Truth is, yes: Kim Taehyung sees right through you. He is right all along and you wouldn’t know how Jungkook would respond to making this whole ordeal a regular thing. Hell, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to react to it. With how shaky your relationship has become as of lately, how each one of your problems have circulated back to Jungkook’s office job some way or another, it’s hard to tell if the opportunity Taehyung offers you would truly work in your favor.

You take a deep breath, contemplating Taehyung’s words and the weight of them. The room falls into a brief silence though it isn’t pressuring, not trying to suffocate you for once. It’s not that you doubt the talent or passion that lingers within you, but you wonder if it’s worth anything if it means it would only dig your relationship deeper in the ground, especially when you and Jungkook are already trying so hard to climb out of that hole.  

‘‘It’s not something you have to figure out right now.’’ Taehyung shrugs, a reassuring smile at his lips when he catches him losing you. ‘‘I just want you to know you can always give me a call. I’d be down for anything going forward, ___.’’

You can hear the hope in Taehyung’s voice and you wonder why he tries so hard to make you understand. You appreciate it, though you wonder. You just figure he’s a good guy with a good heart.

‘‘You know, you can print those photos out.’’ You say, back straightening as you catch how it throws the guy off guard a bit, his brows rising. ‘‘I had these crazy ideas for the cover of my portfolio, anyway. Might as well put them to good use and take it home with me.’’

You even surprise yourself as the words spill from your lips, though you have no intention to take them back. You suppose this is what you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. Taehyung’s eyes almost seem to lighten up. ‘‘I knew you were a smart one.’’

And that’s how you’re ushering Taehyung towards the printer in the corner of his minimal studio before he can make any more smart comments. He reassures you some more time, sensing your absence as silence falls over you once more, insecurities still nagging at you even when you convince yourself this small step could lead to something good. Something bigger. At one point, it’s just the sound of the printer rapidly inking the paper as the both of you stand there on the side in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. But you’d say it’s rather an unfamiliar one. Taehyung never does anything to make you feel like a fish out of the water, he makes sure of it and you’re grateful for that.

Joy swells at your chest, leading to butterflies filling up your lower belly. Not because of Taehyung; even as you see right through his charming looks or flirtatious brown eyes, but because he saw something in you that night of the event that made a spark of inspiration flow. Thinking back at how easy it’s been with him, how you haven’t even met the man a week ago and how you’re now here, in his studio working on things you once called passion for—it drives you crazy.

‘‘You know what? We should celebrate,” he calls and the sound of his voice throws you off guard. “With some wine, I mean. You like red?’’

And that’s how you and Taehyung end up popping a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco in the middle of his studio. The curly haired man says he always has some sort of beverage stored in the back in case of celebration, and you believe him. His character is like a breath of fresh air. He goes with the flow, you can tell, that being all you’ve been doing in the past days you introduced yourselves to one another. One hand dug deep in the pocket of his voguish trousers and the next thing you know, you’ve finished up a shoot and are setting up your portfolio together.

You like Taehyung.

You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.

Conversation flows well, even after only a couple sips of the wine he poured you. Conversation has been flowing well since the start of today’s shoot, but now that you get to sit down, look him in the eye and get to know him better, you can tell you’ve got that chemistry. The air in Taehyung’s studio feels lighter, almost ethereal, as you sit comfortably at the foldable, rusted party table and squeaky chairs he pulled from the back. Only after apologizing a handful of times, his nearly empty studio only holding onto lightning and his required equipment as you sit in the middle of it. It’s not his day to day workplace, he told you, though you keep telling him there’s something to it. The minimal yet intimate air lingers and it makes you feel good on the inside.

There’s an effortless ease to your interactions, you’re not sure what it is that he does, but he does it. Taehyung’s laughter resonates in the room, infectious and sincere whenever he talks. You find yourself opening up to him, discussing your ambitions, as well as your fears. There’s a certain comfort in his presence, as if he intuitively grasps the struggles you’ve been facing and offers you a safe space to let it out.  

‘‘This is one of my favorites,’’ Taehyung leans back in his chair, one leg over the other as he brings his glass back to his lips. Your portfolio is sprawled out over the entire surface of the tiny table, resulting in you to lean over with your own glass in one hand. You follow his gaze, falling on the picture of you that’s taken from an upper angle, open palms directed to the camera and glued to your cheeks. ‘‘This one makes it seem like you never quit modeling–it’s probably something in the eyes. They’re captivating.’’

You feel your cheeks heat up as you peer at the photograph. It’s true, the image captures a certain intensity in your eyes, a spark that evokes passion. It reminds you of the days where modeling was your world, where it was your only ambition and when you were fully immersed.

‘‘I mean it.’’ He says when he notices the curl of your lips, unknown what to do or say next. ‘‘You’ve got the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in, don’t you know?’’ He enjoys seeing you so flustered, enjoys seeing how you turn in somebody new, so different from the woman he first got to know at the event. He almost feels proud for bringing this side out of you.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, Taehyung’s compliment leaving a cute flutter in your chest. You glance at the photo again, studying the intensity in your eyes like he described. ‘‘Thank you, Taehyung.’’ You reply sincerely, ‘‘I guess all of this is still kind of surreal to me. Didn’t think I’d find myself in a studio ever again, you know? It’s kind of a big deal to me.’’

‘‘I get that.’’ He says slowly, and you swear his voice drops a few octaves because of it. Leaning over the tiny table with folded arms, wine glass before you. Your eyes lock and neither of you care to say anything for another moment.

The afternoon carries on and shifts into an evening where the sun has already set before you can comprehend it. Taehyung’s squeaky party chair leaves an uncomfortable sting at your ass but you don’t mind, barely notice the feel when the nearly empty wine bottle sits there to stare at you both. A little liquid layer of red wine left over and waiting for you to finish as you hang onto Taehyung’s every word. Hang onto his tongue as he speaks of his experiences within the industry, speaks of everything you’ve been missing out on the past few years. You feel like that girl in highschool again, reading through Vogue magazines in between classes and cutting your favorite models out to stick it on to your moodboard when you were supposed to work on your homework.

Yes, you look up to Taehyung. It was inevitable from the beginning. You believe so, because Kim Taehyung’s the only connection you have right now who dives right back to that world. That world you’ve been dreaming of for so long and once made true. And not only that, but he was also the first person in a long time who saw you for anybody else than the wife of. Say you’re being dramatic, but it’s no more than the truth. Taehyung gave you an opportunity within the first ten minutes of truly knowing who you were. It says something about him. Something good that makes you feel like you can handle a lot more than you think.

You at 9.38 PM | Hi, I had a lil wine and I’m jus a little tipsy, but I probably shouldn’t be driving

You at 9.40 PM | do you think you can come over and pick me up?

Read at 9:40 PM.

You lay your phone flat on the table as you lean back into your seat with a loud huff. Copying you, his head tilts slightly. “I could just drive you home, you know that right? No need for him to drive all the way over here.”

“There’s that, but you’ve already done so much for me today.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “Really, there’s nothing you could do right now that would make me any happier.”

It’s true. Kim Taehyung made you the happiest woman alive today. 

It doesn’t take very long before you hear the shut of a car door right outside, followed by impatient knocks at the front.

“The one and only.” Taehyung murmurs with a teasing smile your way, lazily getting up from his seat before he moves to the door.

The door flies wide open and revealed behind it is your husband, hands at both his hips as his dress shirt stretches across his chest at the movement. He leans his weight onto one leg, analyzing the man before him. “Right here, sir,” Taehyung comes to stand beside him, stepping outside and pointing to something that’s out of your view. “I’ve got a doorbell. For future references.”

You catch the playful smile that’s tugging onto the corners of Taehyung’s lips and so does Jungkook. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly as he steps inside the small studio, fast to catch your eye from your seat at the table. “But I’m just here to pick up my wife.”

Jungkook’s steps sound heavy in the nearly empty space, leather designer shoes tapping against the flooring with a slight echo at each stride. He ends up in front of you by the table but doesn’t say anything, though you see his lips are pursed and cheeks are sucked in. Hands hiding in the pockets of his dress pants, you notice how his aura comes with a change of atmosphere. Let that be his body language, the strict look on his face, or maybe even the way you react to his presence—you know the change didn’t just come falling out of the sky.

You snap out of it when Taehyung closes the door behind him with a soft thud, followed by awkward silence. Your chair screeching against the floor comes next. “Taehyung,” you move around the table, coming to stand next to your husband and locking arms. “This is my husband, Jungkook.” The man on your side doesn’t care to return your touch. No arm at the small of your back, barely another look your way when he’d rather look anywhere else with pulled brows. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung. The photographer I told you about. He’s been doing such an amazing job at running today’s shoot.”

Being the bigger person in the room, Taehyung steps in to stretch out a hand, back curving slightly. “It’s good to meet you, I’ve only heard so much.”

Jungkook only provides him a nod of acknowledgment with each childish nerve that still runs through his body, ignoring eye contact like he’s still sixteen and his mama taught him no manners. You watch as Taehyung’s hand dissolves into a loose fist and falls to his side in defeat, you send him an apologetic smile to make up for it but he brushes it aside with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Alright, I guess we should leave.” You break through the ice, hand falling at your side as you roam around to search for your bag. You reach for the curly haired man once everything’s settled, and even though Jungkook didn’t care enough to return your touch before, you catch him tonguing his cheek when you reach out for Taehyung. “Thanks again. Really, I had a blast.”

“No more than I did.” He gives you his signature smile, the one that would leave many weak in the knees.

You bid your goodbyes, telling each other to get home safely as Jungkook watches from the side. You hug Taehyung tightly before you leave, an embrace where your arms are secured around his neck and his hands appropriately rest at your back.

It’s when you and Jungkook step out when you halt in the middle of the doorway, your portfolio that was secured beneath your arm now pushed into his chest. “Oh, Taehyung!” You turn around, hair sweeping against Jungkook with the sharp turn you take. Taehyung watches you with curious, slightly widened eyes. “Is it okay for me to give you a call later this week? I’d really love to repeat what we did today some time soon.”

His features relax, familiar grin returning. “You can always give me a call.” He smiles cutely. “Hit my line, I’ll have time for you, ___.”

Insecurity is not something Jungkook has had to worry about in the past, and certainly not now. Not when it came to you, not when you were entirely his, and he was entirely yours without any second thoughts. And he still trusts you completely, trust isn’t the issue. Insecurities aren’t the issue, either. And maybe, Kim fucking Taehyung isn’t what bothers him. Maybe it’s the way you seem to admire him, remembering that twinkle in your eyes from a long time ago. Remembering that smile you rarely save for Jungkook to see these days.

So, yes. Jungkook feels a weird tingle in the pit of his stomach like he’s being teased. Like it’s your first month of dating and he’s back in college again. Standing on the side like this, waiting for you to finish the conversation, the bitterness can only creep up on him at this point.

Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.

The drive back home is worse than when Jungkook came to pick you up. He isn’t saying a word and neither are you, but he seems to be the only one bothered by it. With one hand at the steering wheel, he catches a glance at you on his side. Your nose digs into the map Taehyung gave you to bring home and your focus holds so much, you don’t even notice him staring. He can’t see much of what’s on the inside, not with the sun that has already set and the darkness that has consumed his sight.

Once you arrive home, Jungkook makes a beeline to the bedroom and you don’t put in much effort to run after the man. You store the portfolio someplace safe, where you’re sure nothing could spill or damage it in any way. It’s undeniable how today’s events made you feel like an absolute doll. Maybe it’s the after effects, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re running your entire skincare routine with droplets of water from your shower still dripping from your wet hair. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve been feeling like a pretty girl all day and you want to continue feeling that way.

It’s evident in the way you choose to wear the prettiest slip dress you can find hanging in your closet, the satin material cutting off just beneath the swell of your ass. It’s a piece Jungkook bought you a while ago during one of his first trips away, coming home with a Dior bow wrapped around the luxury packaging and a boyish smile dragging up the edges of his lips. It’s been his favorite ever since. Always loved how the fabric hugged your every curve, the way your nipples seemed to pinch right through. The way his eyes were unable to rip his gaze off you.

It’s when you enter the bedroom as Jungkook’s broad back meets you, seated at the edge of the queen sized bed with his elbows resting atop his thighs. He doesn’t bat an eye as he feels the bed dip behind him. Your knees dig into the fluffed sheets as you reach closer, heaving a loud sigh like you’re calling out for him.

“You don’t like him, do you?” you hum sweetly, pausing when your front is pressed against his back, heat radiating between you. It’s obvious who you’re referring to, hands travel at his both sides before you embrace him from beneath his arms. “Taehyung is a talented guy, don’t be so hard on him.” You chuckle at his ear, leaving a single, soft peck at his cheek. “Maybe you should flip through the portfolio we put together. You’ll really see him in a different light then, trust me.”

Manicured fingers fumble around until they reach the lowest button of his blouse. Starting from the bottom, you undo it, and you can hear the subtle sigh coming from his nose, jaw set tight as his teeth grind together. You press a trail of wet kisses to his warm skin rather than commenting on it, right below his earlobe reaching lower towards the sweet spots in his velvety neck, nails teasing at his stomach as you continue to unbutton his shirt. Jungkook is holding back, you can tell by the way his head tilts your way and eyes close at the feel of your lips buried deep in his neck, tits pressing at his backside as your hands are all over him, eagerly fumbling with his shirt–not giving into your touch. Not yet.

‘‘You’re still in your work clothes,’’ you hum in his neck, as if it isn’t already obvious. His dress pants tighten around his thick thighs each time he sits down and it’s your favorite thing in the world, the outline of his hardening crotch a little more visible with each gentle nip of your teeth against his skin.

“Yeah,” he sighs. ‘’Just in case my tipsy wife couldn’t drive her way back home again and I’d end up changing clothes anyway,’’ Jungkook simply says, even if the bitter edge to his statement doesn’t go missed by you.

You chuckle cutely, the sweet sound roaming at his ear. Is that why he’s upset? ‘‘Okay, alright.’’ You breathe lightly, sliding the light fabric of his shirt off his broad shoulders, his hot and inked almond skin on full display when you settle for less, throwing the piece to the side. Playful pecks follow at his shoulder blade, tender and deliberate. You trail your fingers lightly along the curves of his muscular back until you decide you had enough, rounding him until you straddle him, both legs on his either side. Cupping his face, you make him lock eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry for the late night drive. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,’’ you confess softly, voice laced with a hint of mischief, hips carefully beginning to roll against his. ‘‘But I promise to behave next time, okay?’’

With his face cupped in your hands, you press your lips against his to pull him in a longing kiss, lingering a little longer than usual. You can tell he’s tired, that he doesn’t have much energy left over to deal with you, though your lips dance in unison anyway. Sweetly sucking onto your bottom lip like he’s hungry and you’re a free buffet. You watch as you detach from him, his eyes fluttering open after. “You’re in a good mood.” Jungkook hums with heavy lidded eyes on yours.

‘‘That’s because I had a good day.’’ You sing gently. Your wide, toothy smile would usually be one thing that he believes could halt anyone in their tracks. Though he beats you to it as you reach for another peck at the lips.

‘‘Hm, yeah?’’ He asks, head tilting. And even though his thumbs start caressing sweet circles at your exposed thigh, disappearing beneath the rich satin of your nightdress, all you can focus on is the tight line of his lips. The slight pinch between his brows. ‘‘My day was less fun, baby.’’

Your playful demeanor shifts at the seriousness of his tone, the straight face he gives you as he examines your every move unable to go unnoticed by you. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about the argument you had earlier today. It’s just that you’ve been in a position where you came as a second option to him all the time, so when the roles were reversed this morning, you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. Still, with a sympathetic expression, you lean in closer, a gentle whisper against his lips. ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ you ask, fully prepared to hear about all the ways he felt when you left the house like you haven’t been through it yourself.

He keeps his eyes on you for a minute longer and you can’t seem to figure out what is going through his head. Neither of you say anything and he keeps you in the dark for a moment, staring at you with those heavy lidded eyes that don’t bring you much further. “I’d drive around town to pick you up in the middle of the night, ___. You could call me at 3 in the fucking morning and I’d be there without another word.” Jungkook’s fingers tighten at your hips, gaze flickering to your lips. His voice is stern, like he’s preaching. You merely stare back at him with those big eyes of yours, like you wouldn’t have an idea where he’s going with this. “Late night drives don’t bother me at all.”

“Okay,” you pause carefully, head tilting to indicate you’re listening. “Then what does?” Two hands go through his black locks, pushing the hair out of his face as you begin to massage his scalp. The feel of your nails against his scalp is always so reassuring to him, even though not a hint of reassurance paints his face right now.

His lips press together. Why does he have to chew it out for you? You can’t seem to figure it out yourself and Jungkook’s patience is running on thin ice. It’s not a combination either of you like to see. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to keep employees on the job so long after business hours? It’s unprofessional, ___.” He drops the bomb, causing the fingers that are running through his hair to slow down. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t working, Jungkook.” You laugh, though his mood doesn’t lighten up. “Taehyung and I were celebrating–it’s my first modeling job in years. We kind of had to.”

“With wine?”

You halt at the shift in his tone, at his voice that’s laced with accusation. The single brow that arches up his forehead as if he’s searching for a reason to be angry, to find fault in your actions. ‘‘Yes, with wine,’’ you reply, maintaining your composure. ‘‘What’s the issue? You drink wine with your colleagues all the time.’’

The air in the room becomes tense as he continues to scrutinize you, eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. ‘‘At social gatherings, yes. Not one-on-one in a room the size of my kitchen cabinet, ___, come on. What are you even on?’’

‘‘What am I on?’’ You repeat and pull away from him, back straightening as your hands fall to your lap. ‘‘Jungkook, I'm not on anything. I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I was simply celebrating a milestone with a very professional guy. You do that all the time. Is that so wrong when I do it?’’

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression hardened. ‘‘It’s not about right or wrong,’’ he retorts, his voice sharper than it has been all night. ‘‘I’m just saying this guy is not your colleague, he’s not your coworker. He’s just some guy you met a couple days ago. I would have appreciated it if you had considered our relationship before indulging in a late-night celebration with another man.’’

Your eyes widen at his words, blood starting to boil when you cross your arms, jaw locked tightly. ‘‘Either you’re being very jealous and fucking possessive right now, or you’re making me feel like you don’t trust me.’’ You say, tone firm. ‘‘And it better not be the latter, Jungkook. Because we’ve been together for way too long to be worrying about this type of shit.’’

You watch him with anticipation but he doesn’t give you an answer right away. Just stares at you with those stern, dark eyes and raises a single eyebrow like you’ll have to figure it out yourself. ‘‘Oh my God,’’ you mumble in disbelief, flying off his lap and ripping his touch off you.

‘‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’’ he heaves a sigh, arms resting atop his knees as his hands intertwine. ‘‘I trust you, I always have trusted you. But him? I don’t know that guy, ___.’’ He points at the door with a flat hand. ‘‘And I’m not an insecure guy, you know that. I got nothing against him, but when you chose that guy to go to earlier this morning even after I told you I was ready to sit down and talk things through, then yes, it hurt my fucking pride. You just turned your back on me.’’

His words hang in the air as you stand there, his frustration and vulnerability obvious. ‘‘I’ve been in a position where I came as a second option to you before. Multiple times, Jungkook, don’t you forget that.’’ You scold him, keeping your voice calm. ‘‘You’re always scheduling meetings, saying yes to promotions and extra hours. Taking on additional responsibilities when you know our relationship can’t afford it right now… I’ve been ready to fix us for a long time, and I’d be the first one in line to give us all the closure we’re reaching out for.’’

You hover over him with the way he’s still seated, continuing. ‘‘But I’m not a puppet. You can’t just pull me out of the closet whenever it comes in handy, and you suddenly feel like talking things out. Like, you leave for that trip in four days and you feel like now is the time to talk things through?’’

He pauses, not uttering a single word for what feels like an eternity. His palms rub together like he’s in deep thought. And for a moment, you imagine what it would be like if your words finally seemed to work through, if they finally made an impact on him. You give him the time to process in silence, watching over him like a hawk, crossed arms over your chest.

‘‘Are you still going to see him while I’m away?’’ He finally asks, voice barely audible. His gaze fixates on a certain spot in the room, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

‘‘I don’t know, probably.’’ You huff, arms falling to your sides and losing all the hope you gathered before. ‘‘Are we still talking about Taehyung? I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation we’re having.’’

‘‘It’s important to me,’’ Jungkook asserts, standing up from his seat and sauntering up to you with deliberate, measured steps. He takes you by the hand, guiding you a few steps further into the bedroom until you both stand in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and continues to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘I need to know your answer before I give you your gift.’’

You blink slowly. A sense of weariness washes over you. ‘‘My what?’’

Jungkook holds you tightly, his front glued to your back like you’ll shrug him off anytime soon. His chest holds onto the same warmth it always has, radiating it to you and you’re instantly warming up at the feel. ‘‘You smell so good,’’ he digs his nose into a sweet spot at your neck, ignoring your confused state when he sniffs at your skin. Vanilla sugar scrub. The one he included in your valentine’s gift only a few years back, before you had gotten married. You had told him you loved it back then. And at first he thought you said it just to say it, up until the moment you started to swim in vanilla, only lasting a week or two with the product. Your brand new, shared bathroom permanently smelling like sweet vanilla and sugar, smelling like you.

You asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn’t tell. Don’t be such a guy, you told him. You had enough time in the world to run to the store and get it yourself. But he wouldn’t budge. Jungkook wanted to be the one to keep buying it for you. He wanted to be your guy; the one who bought you your vanilla sugar body scrub. And he has done it ever since he promised himself to become that guy. The one who made sure there’s a refilled bottle at your bathroom counter every month.

Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your collarbone. ‘‘It’d make me feel so good to have you on the trip, in my suite… smelling like this.’’ He says softly, veiny hands traveling over the thin, silky material of your dress until they get to slip underneath. Drawing gentle circles over your skin as you can only see the top of his head through the mirror with the way he buries his face in your neck. ‘‘I would be exhausted after working all day, but it’d be worth it. Don’t you think?’’

‘‘Jungkook…’’ He doesn’t give you much time to continue when his lips press against your skin. Wet, loud and lewd pecks left in an unfamiliar pattern down your neck.

Jungkook hums in the crook of your neck. ‘‘Maybe a change in environment would do us good.’’ His fingertips tickle you when they continue to feel you up, curling around the thin lace of your thong as he tugs at it. You’re unable to prevent the sweet gasp from coming out when it moves between your ass cheeks. “We’d get to be away from the house for a little while. To take all the time in the world to make up, to make sure we’re okay and ready to move on.”

You don’t stop him when his fingers carefully dip beneath the lace of your underwear, and you’re sure your brain has altered you from pushing him away. Altered you from standing your ground with two firm feet planted to the ground. Instead, you melt into him with the back of your own head prompted to his shoulder this time, bare neck on full display for him. You feel your knees getting weaker when he presses two fingers to your sensitive bud with a bit more pressure than you’re used to, his other hand holding onto you tightly to keep you standing.

It usually starts like this. One moment you’re arguing with him, pouring your heart out and laying yourself bare before him, and the next, you fall into him, forgetting what you were about to say next as you reach out for a breath of air. It doesn’t take long before you’re completely losing yourself in his arms, against his chest, two of his inked fingers dipping into your heat even as your walls begin to tighten around them. You don’t stop him, you love each drag of his thick fingers in your cunt as you stand on your tippy toes, tightly holding onto him at the nape of his neck while he fingerfucks you into another world. Jungkook sneaks a glance at you through the mirror every now and then. Once now, twice when he can feel his dick erect in his pants at the sight of your pinched eyes, your heavy breaths and your hardened nipples through your dress.

Jungkook brings you out to the bed when you nearly tip over without the heels of your feet supporting your weight. He lays you down carefully like you’re fragile, like you’ll break down any minute. Spreading your legs with your panties shoved to the side, he curses to himself when he laps at your sweet juices, coating his tongue as he sucks it up without a complaint as your fingers curl in his hair and back arches off the mattress. Pride is what he feels. Pride is what he feels when you tell him he’s wearing too much, when you tell him he could lose some and you wouldn’t mind. He does as you desire, taking off his dress pants as well as his already stained boxers to reveal the hard-on he’s been hiding. Red and swollen dick that’s so erect, it bounces back to his stomach. He watches as you eye fuck him, as your mouth waters only at the sight. At the ideas that swim through your head. It’s a tit for a tat, he tells you. A give and a take. You want him just as much as he wants you. It’s only fair you both get what you want.

It’s when you disregard your flimsy dress over the top of your head, tits bouncing back and hair splayed out over the bed when he feels like he starts to lose control. Fisting his cock in your warm, slick hand in between your bodies, you pump him up and down as he reaches for another kiss that leaves you breathless beneath him. He doesn’t mind you gasping for air every now and then, enjoying the feel of your chest rising up and down against his own. Hips thrust into your hand when your grip becomes a little tighter, a little more precise and a little more skilled, thumb reaching to tease at his tip. But he stops himself before he shoots his load right onto your stomach. If he’s coming anywhere tonight, it’s going to be inside you.

You know that’s exactly what he wants when you get to all fours for him. Knees digging into the made sheets, your face buried in the soft satin with your ass high up in the air just the way he likes. Jungkook’s hands are at your hips without hesitation, gripping onto your hips as he lines up to your sweet cunt. The first stroke is the one most careful. Even after being together for a total of 7 years, each and every time, you need some time getting used to his size. It doesn’t matter, whatever feels best for you, is what he has said from the beginning. After all, it’s all worth it when he gets to pound deep into you mere minutes later, skin slapping against skin as he watches your ass cheeks bounce back and forth.

He can’t take it. He needs to see all of you from each angle available. You’re not surprised when he gently tugs you up by the arm, though you nearly melt into him again and all your weight shifts onto him to carry back to the full length mirror leaned up against the wall. He pumps into your pussy there, making you watch as you get fucked from behind with a hand wrapped around your throat and an arm hunched around your waist to keep you glued to him. Your heavy breaths melt together the faster his pace increases, hitting your sweet spot with every pound of his hips into yours, with dirty thoughts slipping his tongue, with every drag of his cock into your dripping cunt while he consumes each plea coming from your lips. Begging him to fuck you until you lose it. Begging him to feel his cum inside you as you feel his every inch, feel his everything.

He does as you plead in the end. Jungkook comes undone inside you, your ass pressed against him while pretty whimpers leave your pretty mouth and he ignores his own panting to get the best out of you. His hips stutter when warm spurts of cum fill you up, leaving you like a mess hanging onto him with all the energy you have left over.

But he takes care of you after, like he always does. Jungkook lays you back onto the bed carefully, returning from the bathroom with a damp, warm towel as he cleans you up and hoists you back into your dress and beneath the slick sheets. He pushes your hair out of your face, pushes strands and pieces behind your ear and makes sure the sheets are pulled up to your shoulders. You lay on his side of the bed, eyes heavy lidded and ready to drift off. But he doesn’t mind. You’re exhausted, and for good reason.

‘‘Before you fall asleep, princess,’’ he begins softly, fingers gently brushing at your forehead to push off imaginary strands of hair, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly. ‘‘I need to give you my gift.’’

You had forgotten all about the gift.

Jungkook hovers over you, reaching for the envelope at his nightstand that has your name on it in that awful handwriting of his. He hands it to you and you take the piece of paper in your hands, fiddling with the corners of it as your eyes meet his again. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is that runs through your head, but your brows slightly furrow like you’re afraid to open it up.

‘‘It’s yours.’’ He nudges at your side, fist supporting the weight of his head next to you as he leans in closer. His voice is gentle, almost comforting, as if he wants to ease any worries you’ve been keeping from him.

You open it up, revealing another piece of paper inside of it.

First class passenger’s boarding pass.

He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction with those big eyes. ‘‘So, what do you say?’’ He asks impatiently. ‘‘Are you coming with me on that trip?’’

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[cloveroctobers]

HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL — RIO [Summer Prompts]

A/N: I was debating between making this Rio or Manny based and usually I like to alternate but for this prompt it felt more Rio like 😂 so hopefully for my October prompts if I write for Mayans again I’ll probably write for Manny. Anyways! Hope you guys get a kick out of this as much as I did writing it.

WARNINGS: language & things actually got a little 🌶️ towards the end which isn’t normally my thing but I guess I got inspired 😈 Enjoy!

SYNOPSIS: Rio’s so productive he hardly gets a day where he can get enough rest in…what happens when you disrupt that over something so irrational? He swears he loves you but he’s also not putting up with your shit.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-"

<- check out my previous summer anthology writings here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Rio preferred it cold.

It just made sense for the weather to be cold or cool rather than as hot as Diablo’s breath. He wasn’t made for hot weather and he couldn’t get away with his dark attire in the hotter months either. That’s where you two deferred, you loved the heat over the cold any day so as soon as the first day of summer hit…you seemed to glow more even when it wasn't golden hour.

You were outside way before the official day of summer hit because the warm weather was actually sticking around in Detroit and usually Rio was down for whatever, in fact he already booked a trip to Grenada in August (which his skin would probably regret as soon as y’all touched down in the West Indies), but for this particular outing felt like a waste of a time. A older Australian couple that the two of you became acquainted with when the two of you picked up the sport of pickleball—Rio still liked tennis better—invited you two to celebrate their furbaby’s (a Chinese Crested) birthday.

Thats right a whole ass birthday party for a dog who was now widowed, you two attended the wedding just last year and the Chinese Crested, Harlowe was still dealing with the loss of their loved one so the couple thought a party would uplift his spirits. It was ridiculous what rich people got up to but you liked to entertain it sometimes.

For Rio? It was all about networking considering that the wife of the pair was a retired attorney and her husband owned a billionaire company. You knew it wasn’t really a genuine friendship (more so out of convenience) they were the couple you mainly chatted with just to past the time when you all appeared at the same events. So the both of you didn’t appear that disappointed when the husband called Rio up just fifteen minutes before the both of you were getting ready to leave telling you that they, “regretfully want to inform that their beloved Harlowe was not up for a party and rather a intimate gathering with just his parents.”

“Do you think they’re still having something but much smaller and we got uninvited?” You asked, already stepping out of your heels when Rio came back into the bedroom to tell you the news.

Rio lifted his shoulders, “we’ll find out if they did but I didn’t want to go no way.”

“I know you didn’t,” you laugh as you spin around motioning for Rio to help you out of your dress, thanks to a old shoulder injury that had you attending PT from time to time.

He pauses with his fingertips brushing against the nape of your neck, “whatchu getting undressed for? You don’t want to find other plans for tonight?”

This wasn’t shocking, usually when plans got dropped the both of you always found something else to get into. It was rare for either of you to just take cancelled plans for what they were since the both of you stayed busy as a couple and separately.

“Nope…we can stay in. We’re hitting the gym in the morning anyway right?”

“I did say that didn’t I?” Rio sighed while you laughed to yourself, knowing he would prefer doing his own workout at the park or even in the backyard of your contemporary colonial—when you were with him—rather than at the gym.

He already had to put a few people in check for looking at you too long or even turning a friendly conversation into flirtations. Of course you loved Rio letting his protectiveness come out but you drew the line at him causing a few to lose their jobs when it was never that serious (to you). In this economy?! He even tried to persuade you into another gym—which was about an hour AND thirty minutes away from home but you liked the set up of your current gym and already made a few friends there as well.

Which is why he was putting in that work to get ownership over the building these past few months (which went from professional to lethal) but that was a need to know basis for you.

“Uh huh,” you nodded holding the front of the now slumped cowl silk aqua dress, “I know you can’t hang with me, so I’ll let it slide and you can enjoy your PTO.”

“Thank you for your permission, mama.” Rio rolled his eyes playfully, which then proceeded to follow you as you disappeared into the closet by the bedroom door.

Rio leans against the doorway just watching you as you shoved into some loungewear.

“I think I washed these on the wrong setting, ain’t no way these shrunk after only having them for a month.” You stated, pulling at the ends of your plaid boxer shorts with a huff.

Rio hummed, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth while he viewed the length of your legs in those shorts, “nah…that ass is growing and it’s giving me and those shorts something more to eat.”

Throwing your head back with a shake of your head you sharply exhale through your nostrils in warning, “behave.”

“It’s kinda hard to when you look like that.” He licked his lips, tempted to pounce.

“Please, I’ll put you to sleep as soon as you get up in it.” You tease as you step to cradle your husband’s face, “get some rest first honey and then we’ll talk.”

Patting his cheek, you went to squeeze by him but Rio caught your wrist to gain your attention once more. Peering up at him, Rio let his eyelashes flutter as he took his time analyzing the shape of you which was part of the many reasons he loved you, “you’re lucky I could use a few hours.”

You just smile at the heaviness in his raspy tone, leaning forward to press a kiss right to his plump and always moisturized lips. “I’ll be downstairs deciding on bourbon chicken or honey pineapple salmon for dinner.”

Rio kept a straight face as he fought back a yawn but still nodded his head at your retreating form. It felt like as soon as you told him to take his rest, his body was underneath your spell and normally he liked having that effect on you more so but he’ll fight you on it later.

What he hoped you didnt fight him on was taking a spot right on the couch to get these much needed hours in. He couldn’t exactly hide it as the kitchen and living room were basically side by side in an open floor plan but once you got on the phone with your girlfriends…that Kiking was unstoppable and lengthy. Moments later it only took you placing the fillets into the oven, sides done and covered to keep warm, with you getting off the phone and finally glancing to your right to notice the lanky frame of your husband snoring on the sofa. His limbs were always too long for the couch in the living room, which is why majority of the time he spent time on the 2-piece sectional downstairs.

Thankfully Rio wasn’t much of a snorer but sometimes when that sleep really hit? It came out and you knew he needed it. Rio was always sitting on ready regardless of his laidback but cardinial personality but you knew his profession as a, “businessman,” was anything but sweet—unless it came to counting the bag that is. You didn’t get much into his business, always being the one to turn the other cheek until necessary.

The both of you shared words a few times at the start of your relationship when you became serious and found out that Rio had people (before Mick) following you. You were an artist with a successful art gallery, which contained half of your artwork along with other local artists, new and young, and you even had some imported from all over the world. Rio tried it with the import portion of your gallery once before but you shut that shit down and the both of you didn’t speak for at least a week—almost two until the gym became his second focus—after making things right with you. Take that how you will. At the beginning you didn’t appreciate being followed and figuring out that Christopher had something to do with it after pulling out your own piece—something you hated to do but you knew how to handle your own business—Rio tried to persuade you later on that it gave him comfort knowing that his men can keep a eye on you when he can’t.

Some may have felt like that was a red flag (half of your girlfriend’s being the “some,” but one of them always had something negative to say about anything you had going on…which is why you weren’t friends at this point in time) but with a love so immense? And a career like Rio’s? You grew to accept it as a source of another security blanket since you didn’t like to get your hands dirty. Having that kind of power where someone could do that for you? Was indescribable. Sure Rio’s methods of getting to the money may require things you didn’t really agree with, you kept your own business clean just how you wanted but the way you felt about Rio was not something that could just vanish. You knew what his business entailed but you didn’t need to see the grit of it.

So maybe you did get off just a little at your man having that kind of pull on these streets.

Somebody should sue oh wait…they tried that and were part of a missing person’s report but that case was closed back in January.

You leaned against the white marble countertops, another small smile playing on your lips as it was your turn to watch your lightly snoring of a husband on the couch. He didn’t even get the chance to turn the tv on to fall asleep to, another opposite of your relationship, he needed some noise while you preferred it quiet and no light. His ankles hung off the sofa, one hand crossed over his chest as he held onto his shoulder in slumber. It wasn’t until you noticed the bright colored fiesta floral blanket pulled up and slanted underneath his chin that had you entering the living space.

You almost stopped your actions as you stared down at him in peace. You hated him watching you sleep and here you were doing the same but that didn’t last long as you shifted the spatula in your hand.

SLAP!

The stinging Rio felt against his forehead jolted him awake. His lengthy lashes popped open, making him sit up some as he tried to figure out what and who just assaulted him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus his vision before he shifted his view to you and that teal silicone spatula.

A furrow appeared seconds later, hand going from his shoulder to rub at the spot in between his thick brows. “What’s goin’ on?”

His voice is groggy and you almost felt bad for slapping the mess out of him. Yet he should be thankful that you didn’t slap the eagle tattoo right off the skin of his throat. The blood rushed to that spot on the center of his forehead but him rubbing at it only made it worse.

“I can ask you the same thing, why are you cuddled up with that blanket?” You motioned to the item with the cooking utensil.

Rio licked his lips, glancing down at the peach, orange, yellow, green, and navy blue blanket. He clears his throat, “Whatchu mean? I’m sleeping and the air’s on.”

Not Mr. Cool needing a blanket when he’s the one who loved having the house set on: icebox where his heart used to be, Omarion needs to slide glide and collect his boy real talk.

“Whose fault is that? I told you it didn’t need to be lower than seventy.”

Rio side eyed you a bit and proceeded to close his eyes again, ready to check out but you kicked at the cushion he laid against. Which made him sit up on his elbows, pinching the space in between his brows, “what’s good wit you? You think that makes sense to have the thermostat set on seventy when it’s damn near ninety out that front door?”

“Yes. It’s all about comfort.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do with this blanket, thank you.” He went to plop back down, ready to pull the fallen object back over his shoulders.

You snatch it right off his body, “this blanket isn’t for you to get your drool on.”

“I don’t drool and wait a minute…did you hit me with that? A used spatula? You’re about to mess up my skincare and that’s feelin’ a little disrespectful to me.”

You scoff as you proceed to fold the blanket how you previously had it tossed along the couch, “No it wasn’t used! You know me better than that and I know you take pride in self care. I wouldn’t do you like that but it’s clear you’re disrespecting me by using this blanket that abuela gave to me.”

Rio felt his eye twitch as he exhaled his rising nerves, “…what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?”

“It’s for show!” You exasperated as you finished brushing over the fur of the oversized blanket.

Rio snorted, “oh for the love of almighty!”

You huffed with your hands on your hips, pulling your attention away from the blanket that was back to the way it was, “What?”

“Be real with me.” Rio jabbed a thumb at the direction of the blanket, “you want me to believe that you’re being this extra over a blanket my abuela got you from fucking Marshall’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “oh no you didn’t, not you being uppity Mr. Serena & Lily.”

“I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“Now you’re disrespecting Abuela!” You pointed at him accusing, “Just wait until she hears about this!”

“Nah you’re not telling her nothing!” Rio latched onto the waistband of your shorts, yanking you right on the couch as you squealed feeling the air hit your lower back.

You elbowed him as you collapsed right on his lap, “are you trying to get me to moon you? What’s wrong with you?!”

He shushed you with a smirk, “Thanks for confirming just what I needed to hear…” his hands slip down your sides and towards your bare hips beneath the fabric, squeezing the sides of your ass.

“No, we have beef now you pervert.” Your attempt to get off his lap was not working for you, at all.

His lips are at the space beneath your earlobe and the way he’s sucking on the skin is definitely leaving some tingles all over your body. Rio chuckles as he feels you shudder in his lap, “what beef? I think we should talk it out, don’t you?”

He moves one hand from the side of your ass to travel up the valley in between your breasts, grabbing a hand full of the one on the left and his right. Your breathing is picking up now as Rio settles you both back against the couch and it isn’t until you feel the plush of the blanket against your shoulder that you come back to your senses.

You pull yourself from Rio’s hold, snatching the spatula back to aim right at him in defense, “that wasn’t talking.”

“Well I disagree and thought it was until you rudely interrupted me.” Rio briefly rests his elbows against his knees as he sizes you up while you cautiously step back towards the kitchen, “you clearly don’t want me getting in that overtime of sleep anymore so I guess I’m well rested enough to spend quality time with my wife.”

Rio has his eyes set only on you and he can visibly see you gulp at the distance you put between you. That feeds his ego enough, he sniffs as he pushes himself to his feet, stalking over you to pluck the spatula out of your hand and to slide it against the counters towards the deep sink. Rio towers over you, using his fingertips to grip your jaw firm enough to get your sight back on him. Quickly he latches onto your thighs, lifting you against the counter and making space for himself right in between.

His forehead is pressed against yours breathing you in as he yanks you right to the edge of the counter, his hands caressing the warmth of your upper thighs, “you care about that damn blanket so much, I want your eyes to stay only on it while I sample my appetizer, you got that?”

A finger ran over your clothed center and you pushed your moan back down your vocal cords. The both of you were famous for your poker faces but eventually one of you would take it off of the other.

Your heart was pounding against your chest along with the adrenaline also running wild at the way Rio was looking at you, seeking to devour you while biting down on his bottom lip as he fought to keep his eyes on you and not on the increased rise and fall of your chest.

His hand snakes up to your throat, squeezing just enough to let you know what time it was, “I said, do you got that?”

You sucked your teeth, “I heard you—

You started just for Rio to push you by the throat with the swiftness against the counter, other hand flying behind your head just in time to protect the back of it while your thighs instantly latched around his hips in alert.

He laughs a bit, “yeah I knew you’d like that shit,” as he lets go of your throat after turning your head to face the living room, right where your blanket sat then using both of his hands to nudge your thighs apart so he can leave you bare from your shorts.

Curiosity got the best of you as you tried to take a peek to see what your husband was up to. Usually he was the light sleeper but you didn’t miss the sound of the pop of his lips, making you turn your head to see two damp digits.

“What did I say?”

Quickly shutting your eyes, you shielded them with a free hand trying to fight back a smile and still holding your “innocence,” as you waited to open your eyes again.

“Wait!” You called out, just knowing what was to come, “…check the timer for the salmon.”

Rio barely let the annoyance hit as he gazed over his shoulder to the clock on the stove, “ten minutes left. That’s all I need for right now…desserts a different story.”

And with that being said you let his touch be felt in the most pleasing of ways, folding at the way Rio knew just what to do to set you right.

Sitting in the dining room, since you refused to sit at the island—which Rio found humorous and promised he would clean—you can’t be eating at everybody’s house y’all—the both of you sat face to face with you on the bench and Rio in the navy chair across from you.

He chewed on his last piece of fillet, hand underneath his chin as he stared at you slouched over a bit. His long limbs tapped against you underneath the table, watching you flinch as you pushed your shoulders back, which added to more of Rio’s amusement.

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his dark eyes can’t help but to falter down to your white tank top, “you look cold and might need a blanket? There’s one not far from us actually.”

You scowled while he laughed grinning at you, “you’re such a dick!”

“And you took it so well.”

A gasp fell from your lips while you tossed a folding napkin right towards Rio’s smug face, who snatched it before it could touch him. Leaving him to mockingly kiss his lips at you, “it’s all love.”

“We’ll see.” You chewed back a smirk but Rio can read you just by looking into your eyes.

Rio raised his brows, “That a challenge? I can guarantee you we can make it happen.”

Rio loves leaving you a crying mess and talking you down from your high. His drive was hardly ever low but he thought it was respectable for the both of you to get some nutrients in before the full rounds started.

You held up a finger, grabbing your glass to chug the rest of the water, making Rio rest his cheek into the knuckles of his hand with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you exhale, “but it’s my time to set it off.”

Rio nodded his head ready for whatever you had in mind although he’s envisioning reverse cowgirl, “cool, no complaints on my end.”

“I bet,” you raise a foot to caress his lap, “Can help you back to sleep in some blankets that are actually meant for sleeping with.”

Rio groaned for two separate reasons of course, reaching one hand down to grip your ankle, “lead the way, mama.”

“Not until you do the dishes and clean the counter. I know how much you hate going to bed with a dirty kitchen and we ain’t got shit to do so…get to it. I’ll be waiting.” It was your turn for some small payback as you hopped up from the bench, a glare crossing Rio’s features.

You laughed as you gripped his shoulders, leaning down to press your lips against his. The both of you tilted your heads just right as your lips battled against each other soon before you slipped your tongue against Rio’s. It was getting nasty again and he was ready to pull you right in his lap and let you do your thing right there but you pulled back with a bit of saliva between your lips.

“Hurry up, I’ll be ready to take my own nap myself soon.” You wink at him before you quickly pulled yourself from his grasp.

Rio swallowed his own breathing down, hands rubbing at his wet lips first and then the tension in his jaw all while feeling the twitch below again. Looking at the dishes and feeling the pull towards you was another battle within itself. Usually he wasn’t the clean up crew, he had people for that professionally and personally and as he started cleaning one dish he checked his own pocket to book a cleaning service for the morning. However he did take his time cleaning down the island, he wasn’t that cruel.

And who needed the gym anyway when you had his heart pumping enough?

He didn’t have to cancel that too.

Rio always ran shit.

The gym was just as much as his now as you are.

Just how he liked it.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Continue with my summer anthology prompts & writings here.

[yoru-no-seiiki]

tagging @onyanjune and @h0ly-l3mb for giving me the idea/motivation to do this lol

link to original post here

tw/cw: MDNI or you WILL be blocked, DDDNE, (skip for spoilers) yandere! reader, mentioned non/dub con, mentioned filming of said non/dubcon.

yan! cool kid has two siblings, your upperclassman and underclassman respectively. and it hella irritates him how close you are to the two.

ofc yan! reader’s intentions have and will always be depraved yearning. they only befriended the pair for the sake of “getting close to the in-laws.” after all you wouldn’t be a good future spouse if you weren’t somewhat involved in the family side of things.

but your tunnel vision sort of . . . backfired.

“quite a bunch of lunches you’re packing.” he mumbled, raising his head from his arms after a thorough nap through class. he had already studied everything that subject had to offer and thoroughly memorized it thanks to his notes that were covered in photos of you.

“oh these? these aren’t just for me, silly.” you answered. he already knew what you were planning, and you already knew that he knew, but keeping this façade of normalcy was a game you two liked to play, “you haven’t been bringing food to school recently i’ve noticed. so i made some more to share.”

“just one?”

you blinked at him, confused. laughing after you realize where his eyes were focused on. you explain that the rest will be going to his siblings, since you thought it may be a household / financial problem.

soon after that you took off, trying your best to hide the giddy feeling in your body threatening to spill unto your facial expressions.

yan! cool kid stares at his brand new lunch and wonders if you also cut out heart shaped potato for their curries, planning out ways to torture yan! loser later

yan! loser who’s yan! cool kid’s younger brother. they look so different, their demeanors even further apart. the only way you knew they were related was cause you stalked the latter on his way back home and almost killed the former before you found out.

you dropped by his class with a smile. his classmates staring at you with wide eyes as those in higher levels rarely ever go to this section of school.

“i hope you don’t mind, but i made lunch for you. is that okay?”

“is ThaT okAy?” he parroted back at you, his voice cracking, nerves on edge at all the people staring at the situation. he was going to eat lunch alone in the bathroom again like always but was occupied with erasing the marks left by his bullies on the table.

you laugh at his response, and set the lunch you prepared on his table.

you stare blankly at the brutal remarks written across. silently you walked outside before coming back with a spare table. you frown as the food you left remained untouched.

“you should eat first. lunch won’t last forever.”

you pat the poor boy’s back and left.

one last delivery til you were done.

you breathed in, knocking the door to the student council’s room. “mr. president, it’s me.”

“come in.”

yan! school president doesn’t even raise his head to look at you. his focus remaining on the papers in his hand and table. “leave the lunchbox there.” the bespectacled man points to your table in the room.

you set it down obediently and walked out. at least, you tried to until he stops you. “before you go, tell me why i shouldn’t report your actions to the faculty.”

you don’t turn around from the door, but still you answer, “hm, actions?”

“you, using school funds to pay for my youngest brother’s harassment.”

“…mmm…” you turned around, placing a hand on your chin in feigned deep thought “because . . . you love love love me?”

yan! president sighed. you hear paper shredding.

“you may go.”

you giggled. stepping outside of the stuffy room to go finally see your beloved again in class.

you put a hand in your pocket and fished out your phone. briefly smiling at the home screen wallpaper of yan! cool kid and quickly tapping out the password.

you then delete the video of yan! president tying you up as his unclothed hips slammed into yours. your skin covered in bites and slap marks all over. your eyes converging fear as tears fell and your mouth was gagged and unable to voice the feeling. the once prim and proper man man groaning in ecstasy and yelling words of degradation as he defiled you.

but you could only cringed at the words “i love you.” escaping his lips.

“a little reward for mercy i suppose.”

you stuff your phone back into your pocket. wondering if you should also warn him about the laxatives.

[thepersonnamedsam]

vacation 🏝️🌊🐚☀️

pairing: the genz!driver x 23!grid

summary: the grid enjoys the summer break together on a nice holiday

warnings: none :)

note: let’s all be delulu and think it’s not gonna take a month until we all see our fav people again

masterlist / taglist

yninsta

Maldives

liked by charles_leclerc, sebastianvettel and 638‘738 others

yninsta the groupchat holiday finally made it out of the groupchat - happy summerbreak y‘all

view all 293‘267 comments

username1 who are the cones?!!! i need to know

username2 probably carlos, lando and danny

yninsta actually it’s me, oscar and danny, so 1/3 right

username3 shooketh that they finally did a group holiday

username4 probably took y/n to convince them to all hangout outside the paddock

username5 yes, she’s probably the connection point between them all, so cute

sebastianvettel looks fun!

yninsta it is! u should come visit us, pls seb

charles_leclerc we all miss you, sebastian

lewishamilton please seb, i need help parenting some young lady

yninsta hope u don’t mean me :/

username6 i love the dynamic, ahhhhwjejejkwjw

username7 i wish to be her, so i could receive all this attention of the drivers

username7 what does a girl need to do?!?3! tell me

username8 sigh, i keep trying to find the key

lewishamilton

Maldives

liked by shakira, yninsta and 1‘378‘728 others

lewishamilton maldives treating me well

view all 927‘209 comments

yninsta ohh, look who’s all fancy now

yninsta where are the photo credits?!? huh?

lewishamilton here

yninsta thanks :)

username9 he’s so hot

username10 what’s gonna happen now?

unsername11 hopefully xavi gets fired

username12 wasn’t he fired already? what did i miss

username11 idk, honestly

username12 ugh, how came one be so hot

yninsta posted on their story!

lando.jpg

liked by yninsta, danielricciardo and 827‘628 others

lando.jpg party rock is in the house tonight

view all 368‘263 comments

username13 this looks like a hangover on the next day kind of night

username14 lando looks so good in the second pic

username15 swooning, i can’t

username16 estie bestie made a rare occurrence

yninsta how can nando smoke a cigar in a club?

fernandoalo_official Because I am cool

yninsta if u still type with capital letters, no you’re not

fernandoalo_official HEY

username17 oh, the old man is mad

daniel3.jpg posted on their story!

yninsta

liked by username18, lewishamilton and 722‘263 others

yninsta enjoying the time off

view all 372‘118 comments

username19 it’s so beautiful there

usermame20 wish to be there rn

username21 ugh, how does danny look this good?!

username22 who’s the one surfing?

yninsta our beloved carlitos

username22 really? he can surf?

carlossainz55 don’t underestimate my skills

yninsta posted on their story!

pierregasly

Maldives

liked by yninsta, yukitsunoda0511 and 373‘638

pierregasly we went ziplining and yninsta kind of went overhead, not because of me tho…

view all 32‘727 comments

yninsta IT WAS TOTALLY BC OF U

pierregasly NO

yninsta YES

landonorris i saw it

username23 was it pierre’s fault?!3

landonorris yes

pierregasly NO IT WAS NOT

yukitsunoda0511 why am i not in this dump?

pierregasly bc you are in japan right now?

username24 poor yuki is not on vacay with them

yninsta he didn’t want to :(

yninsta and is still complaining

yukitsunoda0511 i wanted to see my family

pierregasly wE ARE YPIR FAMILY

yninsta

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 937‘268 others

yninsta the ferrari and the mclaren boyzzzzz

view all 103‘629 comments

scuderiaferrari y/n, you can take our job as pr manager now

mclaren no, she’s already hired by us

yninsta how about i am my own teams pr manager?

mclaren no..?

oscarpiastri i don’t look good in that pic

landonorris haha, thats true

yninsta don’t insult oscar, laNDI

username25 they all look so good

username26 y/n is old enough to drINK? when did she grow up?

fernandoalo_official Barely

yninsta not true, i am actually old enough to drink

yninsta and it was delicious

carlossainz55 yea, bc there is no alcohol in this

yninsta yes it was, what are u talking about

charles_leclerc no, i ordered you a virgin aperol, that’s why it’s so light coloured

yninsta hey, now i’m sad :(

username27 oh i wish to be her

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret, @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @whatthefuckerr , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga

[waterfae]

Rainy Day

Summary: You share a moment with your beloved knight as the rain falls outside.

Pairing: Gwayne Hightower x Reader

Warnings: no use of Y/N, house-neutral fem!reader, fluff, no beta

Word Count: 570+

|| General Masterlist || House of the Dragon Masterlist ||

The curtains fluttered slightly with the cool breeze as it entered through the windows, fanning across your face and evoking the smell of damp earth to waft throughout your bedchamber.

Outside, the rain pitter-pattered gently against the rooftops, lightly showering a layer of calm over King’s Landing. It soothed you. Moments such as these were rare, especially when your beloved’s business included being second-in-command of the City Watch, so you cherished them whenever the gods bestowed upon you such blessings.

It had been like this all afternoon, relishing in each others company, with you leaning against the windowsill and staring out across the skyline. Occasionally, you took a turn about the room, warming yourself by the fire before returning to your earlier position. Gwayne, alternately, sat atop your bed with a book in hand, reading aloud.

You listened, his voice velvety and warm; it was a comfort to listen to, remarkably even more so against the sound of the rain as it continued to fall. Had you been laying beside him in the bed, you might have fallen asleep. But you had no intention to do so; no intention to waste the time you had with him by being unconscious. No, you had other thoughts.

You pulled away from the window once more and silently made your way towards him.

Gwayne had been so engrossed with the task you yourself had assigned to him, that he had not even noticed your movements. Not until the book was already gone, snatched from his grasp.

“Ay!” Went he.

You gave no verbal response. You simply closed the book and placed it on the table that stood near your bed.

“Were you not the one who desired me to read this ridiculous thing to you?” He questioned, the annoyance with your contradicting actions apparent in his voice.

“I did.” You answered. It was all you said.

You had pleaded earlier, despite Gwayne’s protests against the chore and also the book itself. Rubbish, he had called it. But he would always submit to your requests and oh, how you loved the sound of his voice whenever he did. It was ever alluring; you could listen to that man speak for hours on end if he allowed it. Sometimes, it would lull you into a deep slumber. Other times, it would leave you wanting.

You said nothing to explain your sudden change of heart. What you did instead was slowly lower yourself into his lap and loosely wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Tenderly, you placed your head into the crook of his neck, breathing and taking in the scent of him.

It surprised him at first, but then he quietly called out your name, his previous irritation replaced with concern.

“I only wish to be held in your arms.” You finally whispered as you slightly pulled away in order to look at him, a small smile gracing your features, “The weather is ripe for it, don’t you think?”

Gwayne released a soft sigh – glad that your change in demeanor was not caused by any sort of distress – and returned your smile with his own. He then wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, and leaned in to settle his forehead against yours. “Only to be held?” He asked with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You laughed before taking hold of his face with your hands at both sides of his cheeks and placed several quick kisses upon his lips.

a/n: Should I be focusing on Kill My Lord Husband? Yes, probably so. But since this was super short and sweet, I figured there's no harm in taking a little break. All aboard the Gwayne train! 🚂 CHOO! CHOO! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated and my askbox is always open. ♡

I may or may not have a smut version of this, but I don't usually write smut, so I'm a little embarrassed and it's probably really bad. So you're stuck with this version for now. Perhaps one day I'll gather the courage to post it.

[writing-mlm]

Blue-pilled man [D.W]

Summary: Sophomore year of college and life is good-- until Bruce invites your family to Thanksgiving. Thankfully your boyfriend is there to distract you-- wait, boyfriend??? Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 9.3k A/n: part 2

A glitch in the system is what you’d considered yourself. There wasn’t supposed to be anything special about you, the middle child born from the rare chance the birth control didn’t work. The failed plan B. The unimportant middle child in a large family living along the West Coast. You hadn’t been anyone special, you hadn’t done anything remarkable with your life. 

You’d graduated high school and flew across the country to Gotham of all places. Low housing costs, honestly, was the only reason. You’d been going to Gotham University for what? Five or so months before you’d gotten an internship at Wayne Enterprise for your major in business. It was going fine, you met some other interns and made fast friends and went out with them as often as you could. 

Which is probably where you fucked up. You’d gone out to someone’s birthday party in a club, fake IDs locked in. It was fun, from what you could remember. And you were all going to head out since it was a Sunday— poor choice, you know but you went to use the bathroom when someone shoved some blue pill into your mouth. But at the time you were too drunk to care about what it was. It tasted like a mint though, so you assumed that’s what it was and thanked them for the breath mint before heading to meet your friends in the Uber. 

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and the need to vomit. Unfortunately for you, you had a meeting with the Bruce Fucking Wayne. Apparently, he interviewed each intern a couple of months into their internship and it was your turn. Surprise!

But thankfully, it led to where you are now. 

As a Junior in college, you like to think you’ve been doing this long enough to get the hang of it. You’ve also been granted off-campus housing. Which was fucking amazing. You lived with one person and get this… he’s Bruce Wayne’s son! Honestly, for a nepotism baby, he was cool. 

Plus, he was Robin. So it made going out to fight crime at night so much easier, and his dad— your boss in more ways than one, always understood why you were late to work. But it also meant he called you whenever Robin was called in. 

“Player!” Robin shouts as you leap from roof to roof, leaving an animated dust cloud after you. “Player!” He repeats this time his voice cutting through your comms. “You’re going the wrong way!” He groans and you land on the roof, confused. He watches as you tap in the air and a holographic map pops up, taking over your field of view. 

   “Oh, shit!” You say, tapping a button on the bottom of the map and it shoots back to the corner it came from. “My bad, Rob!” Tapping on your waist bag, you see a selection of food and swipe to find a glowing lollipop. “Heading your way now!” Popping the lollipop into your mouth, you feel a surge over you and look down at your boots. There’s a green glow on them and you nod to yourself before jumping to the roof that was closest to him. 

He nods when he sees you following him, taking off towards the robbery happening at a local, beloved restaurant. 

“You think they’ll be open tomorrow?” You ask, catching up to Robin just as the two of you jump down from the roof and land across the block from the restaurant. “I was thinking we get some of their food for dinner tomorrow.” He glances at you then sighs, heading towards the restaurant.

   “Considering no one’s dead, yes.” He says once he's halfway across the block. You grin and catch up to him, already scanning through your inventory for where you kept handcuffs. 

—

“Do you reckon I could be a mad scientist?” You ask Damian as you walk into his bedroom, not even looking up from your laptop. “Or could I get roped into a cult? Am I cult material?” Sitting on his bed, you tuck one leg under you and let the other dangle off of the bed. “I don’t think I’m cult material, I’m not easy to peer pressure,” You mutter. 

   “No,” He sighs, setting his own laptop down next to him but he doesn’t close it. “You couldn't be a mad scientist but you would get sucked into a cult.” Gasping, you look up at him and blink. 

   “Nuh-uh! How?” Crossing your arms, you sit properly on his bed and shut your laptop. 

“You almost signed up for the Church of Scientology last week because they asked if you wanted to take a personality test. Every time you pass by a club that asks you to join, you sit on it for a week before declining because I remind you that you’re a full-time college student with a job and a vigilante!” He lists and you huff, throwing yourself onto his bed. “It’s not your fault, though. Growing up in an environment where you didn’t feel loved would lead to a person being more susceptible to a cult. They make you feel needed, wanted.” God, you hated that he had taken that psychology course. 

“Ouch,” You mutter, resting your hands on your stomach. Looking over at him, you see he’s gone back to doing his work. “Do you want me?” You ask and he glances up at you before looking back to your laptop. 

   “In my room? Depends on my mood.” He shrugs.

“In your life, I mean.” He looks at you this time, his hands ready to close his laptop. 

   “I do,” He gives one strong nod. “Considering I agreed to live with you until we graduate, I would hope I’d… enjoy your company.” Smiling, you look back to the ceiling. His ceiling is bare, although you can see the marks from the times you’ve thrown sticky balls to the ceiling and pieces got left behind. You wonder why he hadn’t taken those off yet. 

Damian’s room isn’t what you had expected it to be. He has various art materials set up around his room, an entire section of his room is dedicated to his pets like their beds and toys, and his walls are covered in various items. You see drawings, news clippings, posters of various famous people he enjoys, and a full-length mirror was nailed to the back of his door. He doesn’t have a rug, he says Alfred the cat likes to tear those up. But he does have a curtain that looks like a rug. 

Not to mention his swords. 

His bed is nice, too. Bruce had spared no expense furnishing the place, he’d gotten the best beds possible for the two of you. Damian preferred a firmer bed, he never liked the feeling of sinking into a bed and not being in control of that. He also needed space for his pets, since there was no rule about how many could sleep in his bed now that he no longer lived in the manor. Prior to moving in, you’d pegged him as a one-pillow type of guy. But he had an absolute mountain of pillows, most of which he didn’t even use. 

Tapping on the transparent food icon that was always in the corner of your eye, you watch as your inventory materializes above your body. You widen the bar into a grid and scroll until you reach a water bottle. 

“Want one?” You ask. “They’re cold.” He hums and you pluck two water bottles out from the bar and toss one to him. Of course, being Damian, he catches it without looking up from his work and you roll your eyes. 

   “Thank you,” He says as you close out your food inventory. 

Honestly, major fucking thank you to that blue pill guy. Whatever was in it had made you into your very own video game character. You could even change your appearance! It was so fucking cool, you could find random items lying around and literally create a bomb in two seconds! 

Not that you’ve ever done that. 

Sitting up, you take a slow sip of the water as Ace trots over to you and lifts his paw. Grinning, you pat the bed and he jumps up, bumping his nose to your arm as a greeting before curling up at Damian’s side. He glances down at his dog and mindlessly pets him along his spine. 

“Have you studied yet?” He asks, lifting his eyes from his screen to meet yours for a brief moment. Capping the bottle, you toss it back into your inventory and lean back on his bed. 

   “A little,” You admit. “Between jobs and class, I haven’t had time. Was gonna during break, though.” He raises an eyebrow and you shove his foot. “Sorry some of us won’t be visiting family and will have an entire week to do nothing!” 

“Oh, and where do you think you’re staying?” He asks, finally fully closing his laptop and setting it on his nightstand. 

  “Here,” You shrug as if the answer was obvious. 

    “Father wants you at the manor, he’s invited you to Thanksgiving,” This is news to you. Looking at him, you see Damian is looking at you before he turns his attention back to Ace. He’s old, you note. He’s gotten the powered face and you’re pretty sure he’s been sleeping on the sofa while watching late-night game shows. He even snores now. 

   “Oh, thanks so much for the heads up!” Scratching his backside, Ace’s leg kicks and you chuckle. His eyes crack open when you stop and he moves to nudge your hand, letting out a small howl. 

“Don’t be cruel, he’s old.” Damian gestures to the dog who’s doing his best to look like he’s about to cry. Where he learned that, you’ll never know. But you lay down properly on the bed and continue to pet him. Damian pets his head, and you just barely register that he probably doesn’t want you to smash his pillows underneath you. Adjusting yourself, you look around for Alfred. 

He’s awake in his cat tree, but his tail is slowly swishing in the air. A little harshly, you might add.

“Someone’s jealous,” You joke, and Damian follows where you’re looking. “Come and get pet, Alfred!” The cat lets out a chipper merwl and leaps from his place on the tree and onto the floor. There are two small thumps, one from the front paws hitting the floor and the second from the back paws. Alfred flicks his tail as he lands before jumping onto the bed in one big jump. 

He nudges your free hand and when you lift it, crawls underneath forcing you to pet along his back before he settles on your chest. One thing about cats is that despite their small size, when they’re sitting directly over your ribcage they all but quadruple in weight. 

“Ow,” You bite back a groan, closing one eye and slowly easing onto Damian’s pillows. “Lay down, please,” Whispering to Alfred, he blinks and then plops down as if his bones had just gone away. Chuckling, you pet wherever he asks and close your eyes. 

“Fathers texted,” Damian mutters, shifting down on the bed so he could comfortably lie down. “We’re patrolling tomorrow,” 

“Thank god, not tonight,” You huff, looking down at Alfred whose content on your chest. He’s purring loudly, and his front paws are neatly tucked under his body while his lower half is splayed out to the side. His eyes don’t leave your face, though. They’re half-lidded like he’s fighting sleep and you see his head rocking a bit. Scratching his forehead, he pushes his head further into your fingers and gives one lick before laying his head flat on your chest. 

“He likes you too much,” Damian chides. “He’s a traitor!” Alfred doesn’t miss a beat as he rolls to turn his back to Damian, letting out the loudest sigh he can muster in his very tiny body. 

   “He’s a baby!” You protest. “Ain’t that right, Alfie?” In response, Alfred flicks his tail once, slowly lowering it back down to your stomach. “See,” Looking over at Damian, you see him watching his cat with an almost envious glare before he looks at you. 

“You know it took me five hours to train him?” He asks as Ace gets up and jumps off of the bed. You watch for a second as he paws the door open before slipping into the hallway. Damian scoots a bit closer and raises his hand to pet Alfred. “He was totally feral before me.”

“Ah, so he was you before Bruce?” The tease is clear in your voice, your eyebrows wiggling and your chest shakes a little bit when you see his reaction. 

   “I wasn’t feral,” He bites, looking over at you. 

   “You stabbed your brothers,” You softly remind him and he scoffs, laying his head down on the same pillow you were using. But neither of you seems to notice or care. 

    “If they could get stabbed by a ten-year-old, they deserved it.” 

Alfred stands up, his back rising to comical heights before he spawns and stretches over to Damian. 

“Traitor,” You frown, rolling to your side and watching as he lays down on Damian, his tail curling under his body. 

   “He knows where home is,” Damian jokes, making you scoff. 

“I’m gonna go take a shit,” You mutter and press a kiss to Damian’s forehead. Somewhere in your mind, it was intended for Alfred, but you missed it and didn’t realize it until you were at the door. 

“I don’t mind,” Damian said when he noticed you had paused at the door. 

   “…Okay…” You hum and leave his room. It’s not like you’ll make a habit out of it. 

—

A week later you’re both in the apartment's living room, Damian is busy working on this art project he’s been working on and you’re cramming for your last final of the semester. You’re sure if you read another word in that stupid textbook you’re going to explode and huff, slamming it shut before tossing it onto the pile that had amassed on the floor. 

You need to do something else. Looking towards the kitchen you squint, food? No. Sighing, you look towards Damian. He’s focused on his drawing, you’d hate to disturb him. Your attention drifts down to your phone that’s vibrating on the coffee table. 

Perfect timing. 

You grab your phone and stand up before leaning down to kiss Damian’s cheek and say a quick “Call,” before heading into the kitchen to fix yourself a snack. 

Okay, so habits quickly form, according to your track record. 

Apparently, anytime either one of you leaves a room, you announce it with a kiss on the cheek or forehead— whichever is closer, and then the location. You’d actually grown to be fond of it. And it didn’t really affect your previous relationship with him. If anything, you spent more time with Damian now. Which seemed impossible considering you go to the same college, live in the same place, work at the same place, and fight crime together. 

But, still. It’s just bros being bros. 

“Hello?” You answer the call just before it stops ringing. Slipping the phone between your shoulder and ear, you open the fridge and lean inside for a better look. God, you need to go grocery shopping soon. 

   “God! I’ve been calling you for twenty minutes!” A woman shouts from the other end and you pull the phone from your ear and check the caller ID. It’s not saved and you don’t recognize it. Probably the wrong number. 

   “Who is this?” You ask, grabbing the butter tub and opening it. Yogurt-covered fruits. Jackpot. You set the tub on the counter and reach for a nearby bowl. 

“Your mother! Hello, this is (Y/n), right?” Standing up straight, you disregard the fruit and rush into the living room and wave to get Damian’s attention. He doesn’t notice and you almost shout at him; he’s Robin and he can’t tell when his best friend is literally silently calling out for help five feet away?

   “Hey, mom!” He looks up at that, slowly setting his pencil and sketchbook down. He mouths something but you don’t catch it between your blinking and pacing. “How’d you— how are you?” You cringe, biting your fist to stop yourself from speaking. 

“Horrible! Where are you? We’re in Gotham,” She huffs and you whip around to Damian, eyes wide and you’re so close to lowering yourself into a squat and banging your head on the table. 

  “You’re here! In Gotham!” Damian sits up properly, motioning for you to put it on speaker and you do, setting the phone on the table. “How long are you here?” You ask, tugging your hands down your face. 

“Two months,” Your mother answers and you swear you almost passed out right then and there. “Ujjwal, no! That place looks like it has bedbugs,” She huffs and your step-father starts to complain in Hindi. “Where are you?” She asks over the complaining. “We’re coming over!” 

“I dorm, actually!” You quickly spit out, covering your mouth immediately afterward. 

   “Ah, why don’t you have an apartment yet?” Your step-father asks. “You know, your sister, Nadia has a house.” He says, forgetting the fact that Nadia was 27 and had won the lottery before moving to the countryside and buying her own house with her roommate since elementary school. 

    “I know, abbā.” You strain. 

“I still don’t know why he went to Gotham for college,” He mutters and you wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for them being on speaker. 

“Come meet us!” Your mom demands. “We’re in front of Gotham Bright Hotel! Diana is tired.” 

“I’m busy, mom.” 

“Nonsense, come and pick us up!” She huffs. 

You at Damian, silently telling him see, crazy! He nods and thinks for a second before grabbing the TV remote and hurriedly opening YouTube. 

“I’m studying and I’m pretty busy,” You repeat, watching as he looks up Fire Alarm noises. “Just stay there. I heard it’s a go—“ The video plays and you thank god there wasn’t an ad and it’s loud enough to seem real. “Sorry, abbā, mom, I gotta go! Fire drill,” Hanging up, you sigh and press your forehead to the cold table. 

“Why are they in Gotham?” He asks, stopping the video. 

   “Fuck if I know,” You grumble into the wood. “I should get a new number…” Sitting down, you stare at your phone and groan. It’s not worth it. “I’m gonna take a nap, don’t wake me up until the sun comes up, please.” Getting up, you kiss his cheek and head to your room. 

—

It doesn’t take long for you to bump into your family. The very next day, in fact. Dick had all but begged you and Damian to come along with him and the rest of the Waynes to go and check out the tree they put in front of Gotham City Hall every year. Like the New York tree. Just way smaller and probably will be stolen before Christmas. 

You’re next to Damian, your hands stuffed into your big coat and your chin trying to retreat into your scarf watching as the crane lowers the tree. It’s already decorated in yellow and red ornaments, There’s some Gotham Vigilante ornaments, too, you note and grin when you see your insignia. 

“It looks nice,” You chitter to Damian who looks over at you. He laughs at your state and moves in front of you to fix your scarf. You watch him as he carefully unwraps it and measures it to an equal length. He does it incredibly fast and you hope one day you’re as good as him with— everything really. 

He looks back up at you and carefully draws the middle in front of your neck. He has to lean a bit forward to wrap the material around your neck but he doesn’t mind the fact that you can see your breaths mixing with the small gap he created. You don’t either, though. His fingers graze your neck as he tucks the scarf into itself before he admires his work and nods. 

“Thanks,” With a noticeably less chatter of your teeth Damian is satisfied with his work and stands next to you again. You peer over at Dick who’s grinning ear to ear, watching the tree and putting his phone back into his pocket. 

“He’s like a kid or something,” You laugh and Damian follows your eyes.

   “He’s up to something,” He shakes his head and glares at his brother. Feeling the glare, Dick looks over at the two of you and waves his hand wildly. “Suspicious,” Damian confirms to himself. You roll your eyes and look back to the tree. There are some people helping set it in place as it’s lowered. Hopefully, there are no bombs in it this year. 

“(Y/n)?” Several heads turn to the voice and you see your younger sister grinning and rushing over to you. She’s dressed in a fancy blue winter coat, the one with a small cape on the shoulders and white fur along the edges. 

   “Diana…!” Behind her, you see some other family members. Your parents, both your step-parents, your siblings, and two cousins with their mom. “Oh my god.” You whisper. In truth, you probably should’ve expected they’d be there. That’s your fault. 

“We should run.” You tell Damian and he considers it. But your mother must be the flash with how fast she’s in front of you. 

“Where’s your hat? And you don’t have gloves!” She immediately says while removing her gloves and holding your face for a second. She removes her hands as you try not to move away from her grip, then places the back of her head to your forehead then your ears. “You’re going to get sick!” 

“Is this your mother?” Bruce smiles as he stands behind you. 

   “Yes,” You nod, putting your hands in your pocket. 

    “I’m Bruce,” He introduces himself and holds his hand out. It doesn’t click fast for the others, but for Diana it does. 

“Like Bruce Wayne? So, you’re Damian Wayne, right?”

Diana’s eyes gleam as she asks and for some reason, it leaves a bad feeling in your mouth. You don’t like the way she looks at him and the idea of her touching him makes you angry. He notices, you don’t know how, and places a hand on your shoulder. 

   “Yes.” He nods. “And you are?” Her smile falters for a second and her eyes dart to you for a second. She composed herself and removed her hands from her pocket. 

    “Diana, his sister!” She holds her hand out for him as the rest of your family catches up. “He must’ve talked about me a bunch!” She flashes a grin to you. 

   “Not at all.” He shakes his head and turns to the rest of your family. You hide a grin and he shakes their hands, he already knows their names and he’s seen their faces before so it’s just a formality on his end. 

“I had already invited (Y/n) to Thanksgiving,” Bruce starts, getting everyone’s attention back to him. “Would you like to join?”

Oh god no. Please. 

Damian looks over at his father with barely hidden distaste as you stare at nothing. You know they’ll jump at the chance. They’ll ruin everything. 

“We’d love to!” Your father says as your stepmother nods in agreement. The rest of your family agrees and maybe it’s the cold air that makes it hard to breathe but for some reason, you can’t. You blink, trying to take in as much as possible but it’s hard and you’re sure you don’t have asthma. Not anymore at least. Subconsciously, you tug at your earlobe to try and calm down. 

“We need to leave now, though.” Damian cuts off your step-father as he’s about to speak. “We have finals to study for. It was nice meeting you.” He grabs your wrist from your ear and tugs you after him; you follow him without hassle until you’re back at the car Bruce had driven in. 

“I truly do not understand father's thinking. Inviting them without consulting with you was a brash and out-of-character thing for him to do.” He frowns, unlocking the car with the keys he snagged from Bruce’s pocket. You used to wonder how he did it, but you’ve learned to not truly question him and his methods. Just hope he teaches you then one day. 

   “Yeah,” Is the only thing you manage to say. Only Damian really knew about your family, the others just knew you weren’t very close with them. 

It was one night, you figured. You’ll be fine. 

—

Bruce had requested everyone be at the manor before noon, which to Damian reads as being at the manor by nine. It’s less than a two-hour drive from your apartment to the manor, so you had to be up since four in the fucking morning. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind all that much. 

It was a little homey just sitting with Damian in the living room and the sun wasn’t up yet, and then taking turns getting ready. It was nice. Different too. It almost distracted you from the fact that you were about to see your family.

“Is this okay?” You ask Damian as you enter his room, tugging at the hem of your sweater. He was already dressed, in a simple black shirt and brown pants but he made it look expensive. You felt stupid and like someone pretending to be important. God, your pants didn’t even fit right! You should probably go and change, find something from one of the gala’s you’ve attended. 

   “You look perfect,” He says as he removes your hands from the hem and locks your hands together to stop you from leaving. “Cuff the ends of your pants, perhaps.” He adds offhandedly. You frown and look behind him. He has a small bag packed and you look back at him. 

“I don’t wanna go,” You whisper, searching his face for a sign that he’ll agree and you’ll both stay in your apartment for the night. You won’t have to see your family and probably finally block them. He won’t have to deal with his brothers. It’s a win-win situation. 

    “Take this opportunity,” He says and lets go of one of your hands to grab his bag from his bed. “Show them how good you’re doing. You’re basically a Wayne, you’re above them in every way possible.” Shouldering his bag, he guides you to your room and hands you your bag. 

“But…” You bite your cheek and take the bag. “What if… I dunno— I do something stupid! I slip up and reveal everything… I’m probably better off just sitting there. Diana will do most of the talking anyway.” You huff the last part. “Did you see the way she acted? I mean, she definitely toned down the spoiled and entitled energy but still. She’ll probably try and get with you, too.” His face scrunches at the thought and it makes you laugh. 

   “You should know she’s far from my type.” He says as he checks his phone and you don’t really understand but you pretend you do. 

“Can you grab Alfred? Pennyworth is here.” Humming, you enter the living room and grab the carrier that Alfred is less than happy to be in from the table. You try and keep him as stable as possible while Damian gets Titus and the two of you head out. He locks the door and you add an extra measure from your toolbar before going to the elevator. 

“You’ll be fine,” He swears as the two of you step inside. There’s no one else in the elevator seeing how early in the day it is and all the students have already gone home. “Besides, I’m sure one of my moronic brothers will do something embarrassing and do all the talking for us. And Pennyworth has promised knafeh.” 

“I love knafeh,” He grins and steps out of the elevator. 

   “That’s why I asked him to make it.” And they call him a demon.

Following Damian, you spot Alfred waiting in front of the car with a warm smile. 

“Good morning, Mr. Pennyworth,” You greet him while giving him a one-armed hug. 

   “Good morning, Mr. (L/n),” He pats your back then moves to open the car door. “Young Master Damian,” He nods and Damian nods back. The two of you scoot into the car and you set the cage in front of your legs. Alfred meows when he realizes he’s going back to the manor and begins to scratch at the bottom of the cage. 

“I’m sure he misses the open space,” You comment, trying to peer down inside of the cage but you can only lean down so far without fearing you’d break your back. 

   “Alfred is truly a pampered cat,” Pennyworth says as he enters the car. “Buckle up.” 

The ride is spent with you and Damian discussing random topics from your next patrol to your finals. He had even gotten Alfred to join in on the topic and the two of them all but yelled at you to study for your finals. Eventually, you did cave and promised them you would and you just know Damian is going to hold you to that. 

“Now,” Alfred sighs as he parks the car in front of the door to the manor. “I have to retrieve your family along with Master Dick. Do not tell the others this, but I trust you two the most in the kitchen. Could you please continue my preparations?”

“Of course, Alfie!” You grin while Damian just nods. Alfred smiles and looks at the two of you through the rearview mirror.

   “Thank you, I have a list on the fridge. Simply follow it until I get back.” With the promise not to fuck anything up, the two of you head into the manor and quickly put your things into his room and let Alfred out. 

“You’re better with a knife,” You mutter as you read over the list on the fridge. A  list probably isn't even the right word for it. It’s four pages long and double-sided, explains what’s being made and the steps to make it and you’re not sure that’s even all of the papers he’s created. Alfred tends to go big for Thanksgiving, you think it’s because the Wayne’s hadn’t been a big family until Bruce got addicted to taking in kids. Not to mention now your family was joining. “I’ll season the food.” 

Damian peers over at the list as you move to wash your hands and sees that everything has a time next to it, they’re already a little behind schedule so he’ll need to work quickly. He’s sure that the two of you can catch everything back up to speed and hopefully allow Alfred some breathing room. 

It’s vegetables after vegetables for Damian. He’s sure he’s cut up an entire acre of carrots and onions by the time he sees the two cars pull up to the manor. You, on the other hand, are having fun mixing and mashing various foods. You just hoped it was to Alfred’s standards. 

You see both of the cars pull up and take that as your sign to wrap up whatever you’re doing and you wash your hands. 

“I’m a pro fucking chef,” You grin at Damian as he sets the last of the stuff he chopped into a bowl next to the sink. 

   “It smells good.” He agrees, watching as the cars pull to a stop just long enough for everyone to get out. Your family piles out of the cars and you cringe as Diana is quick to insist on a family photo. You, of course, are not included in it but that’s nothing new. That fact doesn’t do anything to satiate your mood, though. 

“Bathroom,” You say as you kiss his cheek and head down the hallway. He watches with a frown before he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel and decides he’s not going to greet your family at the door. 

He stops at the first-floor bathroom and hears the faucet running. He knocks on the door once with his index knuckle and hears the water stop running. 

“I’m going to be in the family library,” Looking up from your spot on the top of the toilet, you wipe your face and clear your throat. 

  “Okay, be there in a second.” 

—

Entering the family library, you’re glad your family wasn’t inside just yet. They were probably still taking pictures in front since god knows how many individual and group pictures they like to take. Damian is sitting on the middle couch, Titus and Ace are sandwiching him together but Ace moves when he sees you. Like he knows you’re going to sit there. 

It makes you smile and you greet Tim who’s on a chair, he gives a small wave without pulling his head out of his laptop. You wonder what case he’s working on, has to be important if Bruce couldn’t force him to keep it in his room. The others aren’t downstairs yet, so it’s just the three of you in the room. 

Damian moves his left arm to the top of the sofa as you sit down and only when you’re comfortable does he move it to lay across your shoulders. He doesn’t do that often, but whenever he does it’s a welcomed interaction. You lean into his touch, just a little. 

You hear them enter the manor, but you’re more focused on the fact that he started to play with the hair on the base of your scalp. He’s probably doing it on purpose, but you don’t care; you’re glad he does because you didn’t even realize they had entered the library until you felt him greet them. His shoulder bounces a bit as he nods to them. 

“Oh,” Nadia says and you look over at her. She says it in the same way you’d say oh when you catch onto something. But you’re not sure what she’s caught onto. Her roommate, Kendall, waves with her fingers and you wave back. “Hey, squirt.” Your eyes turn back to your sister and her hand that twitches to grab Kendall’s. 

“There you are!” Her hand snaps back to her side as your mother speaks. You sit up straight as you see your mother, you don’t know why. But it felt wrong leaning on Damian with your family there, you’ve never felt that way before. “Why didn’t you greet us at the door?” Your mother asks. 

   “I was busy.” You say, looking over your family. “How was the ride?” 

“No one shot at us,” Your cousin laughs, throwing himself onto one of the sofas. You cringe, watching the wood bend at the sheer force he’d thrown himself down with. “But there was this one lady with the only gyatt!” He says and oh my god, you’d forgotten he was a middle school boy. 

“How’s school going?” Your step-mother asks, sitting in your father's lap. Your mother eyes them and you try not to as well, but you’ve never liked them together. She’s twenty-five, hardly old enough to be with a man in his fifties. 

   “Good,” You hum. 

“So,” Diana grins as she crosses her leg over her right. “Damian, what’s it like— living in Gotham? I bet it’s scary.” She’s sitting on the sofa next to the one you’re on, but closer to Damian. You bet if your folks weren’t in the rooms she’d try and reach for his hand. You try and not to focus on that. 

   “It’s not,” He shrugs. 

    “Really?” She grins. “Because I was thinking of transferring to Gotham University!” She says and Damian’s fingers twitch along your back. 

   “It’s not scary for me, someone who isn’t used to life here will never make it.” He quickly adds and she frowns. 

“It can’t be that hard,” She waves her hand to you. “I mean, (Y/n) is doing fine and he’s… him!” She laughs as she says that and you look at your parents, they’re clearly listening to the conversation but as per usual, no one will ever stop Diana. 

   “What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian asks while leaning forward in his seat. 

“There you two are!” Dick shouts as he runs into the library. His eyes look between the two of you and he makes the same face he does when he sees a cute dog. 

   “Richard.” Damian greets. 

“Kori!” You gasp and rush over to the woman as she walks into the room. Damian grumbles something but stands up and follows after you. “Oh my god, Dick didn’t mention you were coming.” You glare at him but he holds his hands up. 

   “We wanted to keep it a surprise,” She laughs and holds onto his shoulder. “His father has the baby.” Two months ago, Kori had given birth to their daughter, Mari. You had yet to meet her, but Dick made sure to spam-send you photos whenever he could. 

“Aw!” You frown. “Why does that old man get to see the baby first?” Damian hides his laughter and you nudge his side with your hip. 

   “Because she’s my grandchild,” Bruce says as he walks in behind them. He walks next to Kori and you see her swaddled in a purple blanket, sound asleep. 

   “And I’m the godfather!” You remind him, looking down at Mari. 

   “As am I,” Damian reminds you and you roll your eyes, waving your hand at him.  

“Can I hold her?” You whisper, afraid you’d wake her up. Bruce nods and you grin, helping him slide Mari into your arms. “She’s so small,” Turning to Damian, he holds your shoulder with one hand, and the other scoops under the hand that holds Mari’s head. He’s trying not to smile in front of Dick but you can see it. 

   “She has your hair, Richard.” He notes, turning to his brother as he puts his phone back into his pocket as quickly as possible. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t broach the topic. 

“And her mother's eyes,” Dick smiles at his wife. 

“Let’s sit,” Bruce says and you nod, unable to look away from Mari in fear of dropping her. Damian guides you back to your seats and you slowly lower yourself onto the couch. 

“She’s less fragile than you think,” He softly reminds you and you finally look away from her. Damian looks away from Mari and looks at you, his eyes flickering across your face before they settle on your eyes.

   “She’s so small, though.” You frown and he nods, moving some of your hair from your face. “Wanna hold her?” 

“Wish Jay took that much of an interest in her.” Dick frowns, watching the two of you. “First grandchild of the family!”

“Hopefully only grandchild for a while,” Bruce says as he unbuttons his jacket to sit comfortably. 

   “I doubt you’ll have a baby problem anytime soon.” Tim laughs, finally putting his laptop away. “Dickie is the only one of us to date a woman.” Dick laughs and Bruce genuinely has to think about it. Had he raised a home filled with gay people? Did he make kids gay? He’s one for four at the moment but he sort of wishes Duke and Cas would even the scores out a bit. No— he’s zero for five. He corrects himself, remembering Dick’s boyfriend from a few years back. 

   “Not true,” You cross your arms, oblivious to Bruce’s spiral. “Steph—“

“You know what I meant!” He rolls his eyes. “He’s the only guy in this family who’s dated a woman.” 

“No,” You shake your head while looking at Damian. “Didn’t you date uh… what’s her name? Nika?” He looks almost offended that you said that. 

   “(Y/n), she’s gay.” He corrects. 

“Alexis?”

“She was delusional.”

“Emiko?”

“Friends.” 

“Maxinne?”

“Friends. Why do you think I’ve dated these women?” The man himself walks into the library with Alfred. 

“…Jason…” You admit and he gives you a Are you fucking serious look. Jason looks confused for a second but he can get a hint of what’s happening based on Damian and Dick’s face. 

   “You believed Todd to tell you the truth of my love life?” He stresses and now you feel stupid. 

  “When you say it like that!” You huff, turning your head away from him. “I mean he also said you dated Jon.” 

“And that didn’t give you a sign he was lying?” He chuckles. 

“So, are you single?” Your mother asks and you catch Diana pretending not to listen but she leans in closer. 

   “No.” Damian answers in a tight tone and you frown. 

   “No?” You echo and he looks at you, bewildered. 

“No shot,” Jason laughs, his head tilted. “You two with me.” He points between the two of you and you look between his family, a similar look spreading across their faces. What the fuck is going on? But you follow Jason after Damian handed Mari back to Dick. He doesn’t look happy, you note as he walks two paces ahead of you; something he hardly ever does. 

Jason guided the two of you into a smaller library that Bruce uses when he’s having meetings. You stand on the carpet while Damian stands close to the fireplace. 

 “Damian,” Jason says as he closes the doors. “Are you single?” 

“No.” He snaps. 

“(Y/n),” He turns to you. “Are you single?” 

“Yes…?” You trail. “Why?”

“Figure it out!” Jason laughs and then leaves the room. Staring at the door, you sigh and sit on the couch, leaning your arms on your legs. 

“(Y/n),” Damian calls. “Why didn’t you tell your family we’re together?” His voice is smaller than before and he doesn’t look at your face, like he’s ashamed. 

   “We’re what?” You shout, your head snapping over to him. “Dude, since when?” He realizes it then and now it makes sense. 

“You kissed me.” He stresses and sits down across from you. 

    “Yeah, on the cheek!” You roll your hand. “That’s normal and totally not romantic!” He crosses his arms and you shrink into your seat under his gaze. 

   “Do you kiss all of your friends?” He asks, an eyebrow raised in the air. You humor it for a second, thinking about kissing one of your college friends on the cheek like you did with him. It seemed gross, wrong. As if it was some sort of violation. That those kisses between you and Damian were sacred and to even think about it with someone else was somehow an act against god. 

“Well, no,” You blink down to the floor.

   “Then why me?” He asks. You don’t understand at that moment, but when you look back on the conversation you realize he was guiding you to an answer you already knew. 

    “I mean, it just feels right with you.” Looking back at him, he’s smiling and his eyes are bright. “But I’ve never liked a guy before.” You admit, taking in a deep breath. “I dunno how to be in a gay relationship.”

“It’s the same as any other relationship.” He reassures you. “If that’s what you want.” He adds, holding your hand. You look at your hands together and smile. Do you want that?

You imagine yourself, going on dates with him and announcing each other as your boyfriend. Kissing him. Like actually kissing him. And it makes your face hurt with how much you’re smiling. You’re giddy, like some kid with a crush and you feel stupid for not putting two and two together sooner. 

“I think I do.” You look at him and hold his hand back. “I do.” You nod. “I want that— this.” 

“Good,” He sighs, his shoulders relaxing. “Because my family already knows.” He admits and you look at the door. Jason is probably still there, listening and reporting back to the others. 

   “Do you want other people to know?” You ask. “I know you consider your private life… private.” 

“I would love nothing more than to introduce you as my partner.” He says, his thumb rubbing against your flesh. 

    “If I knew you liked me this much before I would’ve made a move sooner,” You laugh, looking between his eyes. He rolls his eyes and stands up, pulling you with him. 

Once you’re on your feet, he holds you by your hips and you don’t exactly know what to do with your hands. You settle on holding his waist, you’ve never realized just how toned he was. 

“Can I?” He asks, bringing his left hand up to brush against your bottom lip. Understanding what he’s asking, your heart hammers in your chest as you nod. “Use your words, Habibi.” 

“Yes.” You nod feverishly and he dips in without a second thought. His left hand cups your face, trying to pull you closer and you’re doing the same with his waist. Digging into his skin, you’re sure your lips are going to bruise with how needy you’re kissing him. It’s almost shameful how easily you’re crumbling under his touch. Your stomach is doing tricks that only Dick could perform and for some reason, you don’t know why you didn’t do this sooner. 

Never has a kiss felt this good, this right. His right hand moves from your hip and travels up, surely messing up your shirt but that’s a worry for another time. You can only focus on how it’s now holding the back of your head, his nails dragging across your scalp and you can’t help the noise that comes out. 

“Oh?” He utters against your lips. You laugh and take the time to catch your breath, looking between his eyes, listening to your shared panting. 

   “Again?” You’re almost pleading, your eyes stuck on his lips. 

    “Of course.” This kiss is different, it’s less of a release and more of a we have all the time in the world now type of kiss. It’s slow and it’s tender, you feel all the details in his lips and how yours moves against his. This one feels like a hum you’ve known all your life and it’s wonderful. 

This time, your hands find his hair and you don’t realize it, but you’re dragging your nails across his scalp and playing with his hair. He does, though. It makes his heart hammer and he moans into the kiss, unable to do anything but focus on you. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Jason says as he opens the door. Without breaking the kiss, you open your hot bar and with pure muscle memory, grab the water gun and spray him until he leaves. Damian laughs, pulling away from the kiss, and looks at Jason who’s trying to avoid getting sprayed but it seems like Damian’s rubbed off on you more than you realize it because damn, even when he moves you’re still hitting him!

He looks back to you and you’re still looking at him, your pupils blown wide and he can feel the light panting coming from you. Your lips are glossy, coating in both of your spit and he’s sure his are too. He can get used to that. 

“We should head back,” He reasons, lowering your water gun. “Before father sends Grayson and he starts crying like before.” Throwing the gun back into your hot bar, you give him a questioning look. “When I announced we were dating… he cried.” 

“You’re joking?”

“Unfortunately not.” He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, fixing his clothes and his hair. You do the same while Jason is going on about cleaning up the water and having to change. There’s no water on the floor, you note as you walk out of the library. None on the walls either. Every single one of them hit Jason. 

Back in the family library, you return to your seats and Tim is the first to notice both of your elated moods. It’s more visible on you, but it’s harder to spot with Damian. It’s more of a feeling he gets, his face is as neutral as he can be when he’s around you but he’s so clearly happy. His steps are different, he imagines if he had less dignity he’d skip around the manor. The two of you settle in your seats and he’s pleasantly surprised to see you lean into Damian without a care of who else is in the room. 

He’d gotten the text, along with every other sibling from the NO BRUCE!!! group chat. Jason, only seconds after closing the door had told everyone that you didn’t know of your own relationship. Safe to say you knew now. 

Tim looks at your family and the only happy one seems to be Nadia. She’s a somber type of happy, though. She’s happy for you, but she can’t bring herself to be half as bold as you are and it hurts. Diana is trying to wrap her head to a different conclusion, she’s holding onto hope that you’ll be pushed away. It almost makes him laugh. Your older brother is in his own world, as he’s always been. He’s quiet, hardly noticeable but it seems to be on his own devices as he had picked the furthest seat from everyone. 

But it seems to be from more of an air of misplaced pride than anything. His nose is turned up and he’s wearing an expensive suit. But it’s clearly not his, Tim would know. If there’s the money to splurge on that type of suit there’s always a tailor to get the proportions right. 

Then there’s your half-sibling, from your father's side. She’s around ten and he wonders just when did your parents separated. Then he remembers there’s a seventeen-year age gap between the oldest and the youngest of your siblings. She’s sleeping, her head on her father's shoulder and the forgotten iPad discarded on her lap, about to fall off and hit the carpet. 

Your father sees the two of you and looks at your mother who’s trying to keep her calm around the company— rich company at that. Tim doesn’t know why, but if he were them, he would at least try and pretend as if he’s happy for the relationship. Their son was dating the richest bachelor in the world and could very possibly give them a comfortable life. But he doesn’t think they see the bigger picture. 

And yet, despite the clear disgust throughout your family, no one says a single word. The entire library is silent save for Mari and the two of you, talking as if no one else is in the room. 

He wants to gag. 

“Kids,” Bruce says as he sits straight in his seat. “Could you leave us for a moment? I’d like a word with the adults.”

“Half of us are adults,” You chide and he gives you a look. 

   “A word with the parents.” He corrects. 

    “I’m still in, baby!” Dick silently cheers to not wake Mari. But it only makes Bruce sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. 

   “A word with (Y/n)’s parents and aunt. Alone.” He stresses. Curious as to what he’s up to, and mostly afraid of what’s going to happen while you’re gone, you open your hot bar without causing too much attention to yourself. The Hotbar is only visible to yourself, so no one sees the vast list of gadgets you pull up and quickly find the listening device Tim created. 

   “Don’t need to ask me twice,” You grumble and stand up, pulling Damian up after you. 

Jason and Tim are already out of the room, there any fewer interactions and they’ll jump at the opportunity. Dick and Kori, despite wanting to enjoy the snow in the yard with the others, retreat to Dick’s room to nap while Mari is sleeping. 

You hold the door open for your siblings and cousin, but Damian sees you place the device on the door and raises an eyebrow

“(Y/n),” Bruce says in a low tone. Of course, he’d seen it, too. 

“Gotta go!” You urge and slip out of the room. 

—

Diana, alone in the yard as her family had drifted away, finds herself bored and honestly, she’s at Wayne Manor and she just has to show off. She hasn’t posted the pictures yet, she still needs to edit them so no one knows she’s there. And she’s sure her followers would love to see a snowy Wayne manor. 

Thankfully, the wifi was stable enough in the backyard that the connection for her Instagram Live was crystal clear. 

She waits until she sees five digits on the view counter before he even starts speaking. 

“Hey, guys!” She waves at her phone. “Bruce Wayne invited my family to his manor for Thanksgiving! Super grateful for that,” She nods towards the large manor and then at the comments, begging to see the man in question. “He’s inside, talking to my parents. But his kids are here too! I think Damian went into the maze…” She looks off to the green hedges coated in a thick layer of snow. “I’ll go and find him.”

She flips the camera around, and her viewers watch as she walks inside. She doesn’t notice right away, but nearly gasps when she sees she has just over two million people watching. Maybe you are good for something, she almost laughs. 

It takes about twenty minutes of aimlessly walking before she finds the center of the maze. The two million viewers had gone down to just a million but she’ll take it. 

“I think that’s it,” She mutters, seeing a clearing of bushes. It’s incredibly cold, so she’s shivering and her teeth are chattering but she can’t blame herself! She’s not used to snow. “There’s Damian!” She whispers, seeing his head of hair sitting on a bench. Pointing her phone in that direction, she decides it’s better to hide herself and look through her phone. 

From what people can see, Damian is sitting next to someone. They can’t tell until she turns the phone a bit more and it’s you. Gotham citizens know you, of course. Over the past couple of years, everyone in Gotham knows the two of you are friends but no one really cares to post about it. 

She rolls her eyes, of course, you’re still stuck to his side. The two of you are talking, but you’re too far away for Diana to hear the conversation. You’re laughing, though and Damian is explaining something. Your laughter slows down and the two of you just sorta of look at each other. 

Damian asks something and you scoff, looking away before he grabs your chin and leans in. The viewer count is going up and before Diana can fully process what’s happening, the two of you are kissing. Honestly, she’s furious! You knew she liked him, she’s sure of that. This— whatever game you’re playing is just to get at her. She’s sure of it. But she can’t act on it, the views are around eight million and she doesn't want Damian to think she’s crazy. 

He’s holding you dearly, it’s the gentlest he’s ever touched a person before and you’re proud to say you’ll be his first and only. 

His lips detach for yours and trail down to your chin. 

“Habibi,” He mutters and you shudder, feeling the vibrations against your neck. Honestly, at that moment you genuinely could not give a single fuck about your family. About their feelings towards you, about the ways they treated you growing up, and about them. As people. Each and every one of them, none of them could ever compare to this. 

Thank that blue-pilled man, seriously.

[lay-z]

🕊 Day 10 – Santa Soap and his most dangerous mission

A continuation to 🌨 Day 2 – Quaint, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: At the annual Christmas party on base, you’re torn between making a quick escape and holding out to get a glimpse of someone special.

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; cussing; nicotine addiction; friendship; mutual pining; medical inaccuracies; humour; fluff; friends/teammates to lovers

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

You’ve made the internal decision that you’ll clock the next bloody bastard who dares to approach you only to comment on your appearance tonight. The fact that you’re wearing a dress and heels and some makeup for a rare change, has definitely gained too much attention from the wrong crowd. 

Standing in a corner of the adapted and decorated event location, close to the ceiling-to-floor windows that lead to the equally decorated large balcony, you pick at the sleeve of your dress with one hand while holding an empty wine glass in the other, feeling yourself getting terribly antsy as the night progresses. 

Hell, it has already slipped your mind at this point in the evening, why you even decided to get all dolled up. You hate the attention from male soldiers here on base, especially superiors who might take it the wrong way, though you could care less about the rookies. You stand above their opinions and the rumours about you. 

You’re at a point where you’d kill for a ciggy right about now, but you’re trying to quit the dirty habit to start the New Year a better person than last. So, cold turkey, because you’re that determined and petty to quit after both Gaz and Soap taunted you about never being able to do it. On top of that, more alcohol is also not an option, because it would only worsen the need for a beloved cancer stick. 

Glancing at the watch on the wall, you see that it’s been barely an hour since you showed up here, and you’re already mentally debating if it’s appropriate to make an early escape back to your quarters. Perhaps you can dodge Captain Price on your way out, the man who’d secretly ordered you to socialize and mingle.  

However, in the back of your mind, there’s also that nagging voice that keeps making your stomach twist and knot with questionable words and thoughts, and desires, about your Lieutenant. 

You haven’t seen him yet… and most importantly, he hasn’t seen you!  

No, you didn’t dress up for Ghost, of course not. That would be so silly and frankly, also pathetic. 

“Oh, look at ye!” 

Once Soap’s voice reaches your ears over the noise of the surrounding crowd, you fear your eyes might roll back so far into your skull that they might get stuck this time.

You cross your arms over your chest awkwardly, still holding the empty wine glass, “Will you leave me alone already? No, I don’t wanna kiss under your fucking mistletoe and I’m not gonna call you ‘Santa Soap’, either.” 

Gaz practically spawns next to Soap, wearing a matching Santa hat like the goofy Scotsman, a drink in his hand, pearly whites gleaming in the dim light as he grins mischievously, “Now, why would you be such a grump on this fine evening, Sergeant? Our Santa here’s simply trying his best to spread the Christmas spirit.” 

Meanwhile, Soap nods enthusiastically while fetching another mistletoe from the inside pocket of his dark grey lumber jacket, just like the one you’d previously thrown away when he tried to make you kiss him earlier. 

“Did you seriously bring more than one?” 

Soap nods innocently, bright blue eyes shining with mirth and liquor, “Aye, ‘course. Cannae show up unprepared, my wee she-elf.” 

Gaz snorts, “Always pack enough ammo.” He nods approvingly and takes a sip of his drink. 

You roll your eyes again, “Ugh, shut up you two.” 

“Aw, are we a bit narky, eh? Need a ciggy that bad already, lassie?” Soap coos tauntingly, grinning boyishly when you scoff and turn your back to them dismissively, a clear pout on your red-painted lips. 

“I think she’s just vexed, because our Lt. didn’t show up yet.” Gaz mumbles into his glass, peeking over the rim as he gauges your reaction. 

That makes your breath falter momentarily, because have you been that obvious lately? 

After you spent that night on guard duty with Ghost a few weeks ago, you felt like you’d made progress with him. He’d opened up a bit about his childhood and past, though he always kept things sort of vague, and in return, you were soaking up each tiny bit of intel you could gather about him, eager to solve the puzzle – or get a glance of the display picture of the puzzles' carton, at least. 

The mystery about him didn’t stop your rapidly cementing crush on him, either. And it’s an odd feeling, falling in love, after so many years of successfully throwing yourself into your career instead of focusing on a possible romantic relationship. 

Who knew you’d find the latter at your bloody job of all places. 

You look down into your wine glass, swirling the last ruby droplet around as you bite your tongue, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Here you are, thinking you were being sneaky with your growing – and much forbidden – infatuation with your superior.  

Soap nudges Gaz’ side while you’re not looking, shaking his head at his friend and teammate with his thick brows furrowed chidingly, making Gaz shrug in return, his expression apologetic before he lifts his drink up to his lips again. 

“Think I saw him head out on the balcony, lassie,” Soap remarks, his voice surprisingly serious and soft for a change, “If ye’re stealthy enough ye might catch him.” 

“We both know that’d be impossible, Johnny,” you retort languidly as you lift up the wine glass to slurp up the tiny droplet, “No one can sneak up on Simon. Plus, he’s not here, so stop lying.” 

“Simon?!” The men bark in unison, eyebrows shooting up as if you’d just insulted their mothers. 

“Oooh, since when are you two on first name basis?” Gaz inquires curiously, his warm brown eyes getting that familiar spark whenever he smells potential new gossip – gossip you won’t provide this time. 

“We’re not,” you lie, smacking your lips as you crave another drink – and a cigarette along with it, “– and if we were, I wouldn’t tell you, Garrick.” 

Soap snickers, stepping around you and giving your shoulders a few squeezes. He rubs them obnoxiously until you shrug him off with an annoyed click of your tongue and a glare over your shoulder. 

“Could you stop? You’re so annoying.” 

Gaz laughs as he watches you and Soap act like cat and dog, his eyebrow quirking with a knowing smile when Soap pries the wine glass out of your hand next, giving your back a soft shove towards the balcony doors.  

“Yeah, yeah, and I’ll keep bein’ annoyin’, so ye better take a breather now, sweetheart.” 

“Muppets,” you mutter under your breath, getting more agitated by their behaviour, “Both of you!” 

Gaz lifts his hands in surrender, chuckling as he takes a side step to let you walk past while you keep mumbling to yourself under your breath. 

“Risky,” Gaz remarks, flashing a grin at Soap once you’re out of ear shot, “This might be your best work so far… or a guaranteed arse kicking, MacTavish. You don’t think she’ll notice?” 

“Nah,” Soap sighs dreamily, looking in the direction you left in before he perks up again, “Let’s get another drink, eh?” 

As you step outside onto the balcony, you take a swift glance around before you immediately regret not bringing your jacket as the icy winds swirl about. 

Hugging your arms around yourself, you take a few sauntering steps farther out on the spacious balcony, admiring the fairy lights wrapped around the long railing and the clear night sky as you tip your head back to look at  the moon and stars. 

It’s still a wonder to you, how unique the sky looks in different countries; have you spent some of your time on deployments simply stargazing whenever you found yourself on guard duty and whenever you felt safe enough to do so. 

And suddenly, as the noises from inside, all the chatter and boisterous laughter and music, are simply muffled into the background, you feel utterly lonely and… strangely defeated. 

“What the hell am I even doing here?” You groan quietly and sigh deeply, warm breath puffing and fogging up in the cold. 

“That’s what ‘m askin’ myself.” 

Nearly jumping out of your skin with a gasp, you almost turn your ankle in your pumps as you flinch away from the dark corner to your right.  

You can only see the flickering flame of a lighter first, followd by the amber glow of a cigarette tip, blue smoke curling in the darkness and evaporating into nothingness, before the behemoth of a man steps out of the shadows towards you, like the grim reaper himself, living up to his name as Ghost. 

“Fucking hell, Simon,” you chide, still breathing heavily as you clutch your rapidly beating heart, though now it’s beating for a whole different reason, “You need to stop scaring people like that!” 

“Not my problem you’re jumpy like a little bunny.” He retorts gruffly, though you can clearly hear the smile in his voice before you can see it. 

His simple, black balaclava is rucked up over his nose again as he takes another lazy drag of his cigarette while his dark eyes give you an agonizingly slow once over, one that has your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. He keeps the smoke in his lungs as he speaks, “You look nice. Different.” He exhales.

Needless to say, you don’t clock him for that. 

“Different,” you repeat under your breath as you look at him; drinking in the exposed, pale skin of his neck, his cheeks, his mouth, as always. You notice that he shaved. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that clings to his muscular thighs nicely, a dark hoodie and black leather jacket along with boots. 

He looks nice. Hot, actually. God... he’s so hot... 

“Aye, different as in nice. Want me to tell ya that you’re beautiful?” He asks bluntly, taking another drag, “Would feel wrong to tell ya that now, lass. You were already beautiful without all –“ He makes a vague gesture to your face and dress, “– ‘o that.” 

“Okay, thanks.” You squeak; your throat now terribly dry. There is nothing you would love more than snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers to take a greedy drag and calm your jangled nerves. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, then and doesn’t stop staring; his onyx eyes flickering over your form as if he’s assessing you. 

“Why are you out here anyway?” He makes another gesture at your outfit, “Dressed like that. It’s too cold, ya dafty.” 

You could ask him the same, but you feel like you know the answer to that. He hates crowds and avoids social gatherings if he can help it, but Price has ordered him to attend just like he did you. 

“I just... needed some air,” you shrug and Ghost nods as he fetches a pack of smokes from his chest pocket, flicking the lid open with his thumb before holding it out to you. 

Your fingers twitch against your arms, nails clawing into the fabric of your dress while your nostrils flare as you get a whiff of sweet, sweet tobacco. But then, the nagging voices of Gaz and Soap echo in your mind, and if they would catch you smoking out here, you’d never hear the end of it – and frankly, that’s not worth your nerves. 

“Can’t,” you croak out, refusing reluctantly. Your eyes flit from his offer up to his eyes while he raises an eyebrow under his mask questioningly, “I quit.” 

Ghost snorts, flicking the lid closed again, “Why?” The small pack disappears back into his pocket. 

“Someone told me it’s unhealthy,” you jest with a small shrug, hugging your arms tighter around yourself as the cold starts seeping into your bones. 

“Hmpf,” he hums again and pauses before he takes another slow drag, “What an arsehole.” He exhales through his nose, smoke curling into the air as he smiles bemusedly. 

And then, there is a tense pause as you watch how the golden glow of the surrounding fairy lights reflect in his dark brown eyes, adding a sudden soft warmth to his lingering gaze. 

“Can you blow some smoke in my face?” You ask, biting your inner cheek before adding, “I read that’s what pregnant ladies do when they struggle to quit smoking at once.” 

“Bollocks.” He barks out a laugh, flashing his slightly crooked teeth you’ve come to adore so much. Teeth who’ve been broken violently and been fixed too many times. 

“It’s true!” You whine playfully, chuckling along with him, and then he gives you an odd look, his lips tighten into a line before he speaks, “Close yer eyes.” 

Your stomach does a flip at his soft-spoken command, your heart flutters violently as he takes a step closer, taking a long drag. And then, you do as he says and close your eyes, tilting your head back expectantly. 

A few seconds later, the warm caress of his breath and thick cigarette smoke brush over your cold skin, making your skin pebble underneath your dress. You inhale greedily, lips parting slightly as you try to catch the taste of it discreetly. 

“More?” He rasps and you nod slowly, keeping your eyes closed, “Yes, please.” You utter softly. 

Another few seconds later, you hear the crunch of boots on concrete, and then you suddenly feel the tentative press of chapped lips on yours. 

Your eyes squeeze together, and you nearly pull back in shock, but his hand is already cupping the back of your head gently, his other warm mammoth hand resting on your waist; his body heat seeping through your dress as he closes the distance between your bodies. The fabric of his balaclava brushes against your face as your noses nudge together before makes you tilt your head. 

He kisses you slowly, somewhat clumsily, as if he’s calculating and overthinking each move of his lips, but by God, it’s good. So good, and so much better than you always imagined, because it’s real.  

Your hands slip to the front of his broad, buff chest, fingers clutching his open leather jacket and holding on for dear life as your brain starts to shut off. The tip of his tongue brushes against the seam of your mouth and your lips part wider on instinct. His tongue dives in, seeking and rolling against yours almost timidly, and you can taste the nicotine, the whiskey, and the remnant minty taste of his toothpaste. 

When a soft moan is torn from your throat, his hand squeezes your hip and his fingers brush through your hair before he grips the nape of your neck, holding you in place when he pulls back, breaking the first kiss you shared.

Your breaths mingle, hot and panting, as you gaze at each other with half-lidded eyes. His heart is thudding harshly against his chest, feeling it clearly beneath your palm, though it matches your own rapid heartbeat. 

“...’m sorry, bunny,” Ghost says eventually, his voice rough and husky, his lips still brushing yours as he speaks, “I just... couldn’t keep ignoring that bloody mistletoe.”