#she wanted to hope because without him she is undone

[brittleskyblue]

More Nelan and Ivo. Posting these separately bc I am listening to Hammock and getting emotions about them again.

[reiderwriter]

Hello!I hope you are having a great day!I love LOVE your writing and I would like to request a fanfiction where the reader is Hotch's daughter who works at the bau and is in a secret relationship with spencer without her dad knowing.Spencer wants to tell the team but she is scared about how they'll react so they fight but during a case she gets kidnapped and the feelings are high,so spencer accidentally reveals the relationship.I would love if it ended in smut (possibly dom!spencer who is angry at her for being so reckless and risking her life like that) and maybe a lot of angst??Hotch could potentially be fuming but when they get her back he decides that he will let them be??I would like my emoji to be 🌼!Thank you in advance and if you write this I would absolutely LOVE to read it!🤍🤍

A/N: I love writing for a Hotchner Reader because the Hotch/Spencer parallels are so 😙👌 This was so fun to write!

Warnings: Smut/ Angst with a happy ending, Semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, case details, kidnapping, abuse, strangulation, mentions of child death/ allusions towards pedophilia etc, Hotch is a somewhat shitty/overprotective dad/boss.

Masterlist!

Falling back into a hotel bed that wasn't yours, you wrapped your legs around Spencer Reid as he furiously worked open the buttons of your shirt, his lips locked with yours in a furious exchange. 

“Spencer, Spencer, we can't-” You moaned as his lips fell down to your ear, a small tap to your thigh signalling that he wanted tour legs spread for him. Despite your vocal protests, you complied.

“Need to feel you,” he groaned, nipping and sucking his way down your chest as his big hands began pushing your skirt up and your panties down. 

“Spencer, someone will hear.” 

“I don't care who hears,” he whispered, finally ridding you of the last piece of material covering your wet sex. “I just want to make you feel good.”

His lips fell to your cunt, falling on your cunt as he began his ministrations. You loved this, the feeling of him near, his lips on you, his tongue teasing out whimper, then moan, then a scream of his name as you came undone on his lips. But that wasn't a chance you could take today. 

“He's in the next room, Spencer. Fuck, he's going to hear us.” 

You wouldn't push him off, enjoying too much the feeling of your building pleasure, so appealing to your boyfriend to do the right thing was your last resort as your hips bucked into his face, chasing your orgasm. 

He didn't stop, but held your hips down, thrusting his tongue in and out of you as his fingers came up to tease your clit. 

“Spencer, fuck-” you slapped a hand over your mouth as you shuddered below him, finally reaching your climax. 

Your hands fell limp as he worked you through the end of your orgasm before rising up to lay beside you on the bed. 

“I wish you wouldn't push it, Spencer. You're a dead man if he catches us like this.” 

“Hotch won't kill me just because I'm dating his daughter. I don't understand why you don't want to tell people.” 

You ran your hands through your hair in frustration. It was a conversation you'd been back and forward on a lot in the past six months. 

Dating a coworker was tricky, doubly so when your coworker’s boss - and your boss - was your overprotective father. Things only became more complicated when you factored in a ten year age gap and the fact that your father refused to view you as an adult, even when you were a fully qualified member of his own team. 

You'd had to fight for acceptance into the FBI and go above him to get the job on his team, a decision that he still berated you for to this day. But you'd had enough of him shielding you from reality, and it was a step you needed to take. 

Falling in love with Spencer Reid, though, that was just pure bad luck. 

You weren't sure how it had taken you until joining the team to meet the man, but you sure were glad he hadn't been introduced earlier. You'd joined the team at 24, having been in grad school until your FBI Academy application was approved, and somehow in the 10 years before that Spencer had worked under your father, you'd never crossed paths.

Of course, you knew who he was before that from context and conversations with your father, and of course, he figured out who you were quickly based on the many arguments you'd had in Hotch’s office. But that hadn't stopped you from repeatedly falling into his bed month after month, and then falling in love with him. 

Your relationship was more than the sex, but it was also a lot of sex. From the stories you'd heard, and from the look of him, you'd assumed that Spencer was a delicate little flower, an innocent in the bedroom as much as any 34 year old man could be. 

And then you'd both been offered spiked drinks at a holiday party courtesy of Penelope Garcia, and he'd proved you deliriously wrong. He'd been hooked from then on, and after waking up awkwardly in his bed the next morning to two cups of coffee and a spread of breakfast pastries he'd gone out to specifically pick up for you, you'd been hooked on him as well. 

The only problem was Hotch. 

You certainly weren't winning any daughter of the year awards already with the stunt you pulled to get on the BAU, but you didn't want to be completely and totally disowned just yet. 

“Hotch won't kill you for dating his daughter, you're right,” you mumbled back to Spencer rolling yourself back on top of him and pinning his arms down so his fingers couldn't tease you any further. 

“Thank you, now if you trust me, I've ran like four different scenarios in my head so-” 

“He'd definitely fire us both, though. And that's worse than death.”

“Y/N….” 

“Tell me I'm wrong, please. Back up your findings with empirical evidence. He doesn't want me on the team, Spencer. He doesn't even want me in the FBI. I think he'd be happy enough to ship me out of the country, too, if that helped.”

Spencer sighed and tugged your hair behind your ear as he gestured for you to sit up. 

“I know it's scary. But I love you. I don't care about the consequences because I'll still love you before and after telling him.”

“And during?” 

“I might freak out a bit, but deep down, the love will be there still.”

You hit him with a pillow and climbed off the bed. 

“Okay, get out now. I'll think about it but you really can't stay here tonight.” He nodded, grabbing his things and pulling his clothes back into place. 

“So, like we're totally done for tonight? Nothing else.”

“Spencer! Out!” You whisper-shouted the words and watched him turn your door handle as slowly as possible before he waved his goodbye and left your room. 

12 hours later, you were once again getting frustrated with Spencer Reid. And Aaron Hotchner. They may soon be enemies, but goddamn they were perfect for each other in some ways. 

“Hotch, you can't just give me nothing to do. Send me to the morgue with Rossi, or let me interview family members with Tara. I'm a member of this team, too, so let me do my job.” 

“You'll do well to remember that I'm your boss, Y/N.”

“You're acting more like my dad right now. A boss would utilize his team members.” 

You'd been stuck in this stale mate since the morning, and Reid hadn't helped at all. When giving out assignments that morning, you'd not been notably left out of crime scene investigation, suspect interrogation, and anything helpful. Reid usually asked for your assistance at times like these, but he was finally putting his money where his mouth was and keeping distance from you in the office.

So far, you'd ran coffees back and forth between the kitchen and work room and had been communicating back and forth with JJ and Derek in the field and Garcia back at Quantico. 

You'd been, for lack of better comparison, relegated to receptionist. 

“At least let me work on the geographical profile with Reid-” 

“Absolutely not.” 

You stiffened at the reaction, wondering just exactly why he would react so strongly. Spencer had snuck in a few secret kisses here and there this morning, though you'd been sure that you'd had no witnesses. 

“Why not?” 

“I don't want you to distract him.”

Bile settled in the back of your throat as you tried your best to bite your tongue and keep the bitter words in. 

“You know, sometimes, Dad, it feels like you love everyone on this team more than you love me.” 

He locked eyes with you quickly, but he glance was dismissive and stern, almost as if he was asking you ‘seriously.’ 

You turned on your heels and began to walk out before he called out from behind you again. 

“Y/N,” you stopped despite yourself. 

“Leave the gun and badge on the desk. We'll discuss this after the case is closed.”

You almost laughed. You almost blurted out your relationship with Spencer just to spite him. You followed his order and took yourself out of the office for some fresh air, finally giving him what he wanted. 

An hour of aimlessly wandering down the street, and you turned into a run-down park. 16 missed calls from Spencer and other members of the team, who'd no doubt watched you turn in your badge. 

Garcia had even called a few times, and you felt guilty for not forwarding her calls somewhere else, knowing she'd probably have key case information for someone. 

But you just couldn't handle it anymore, so you switched it off, pushed it back into your pocket, and kept walking. 

It was two more blocks before the man following you pushed a soaked rag over your mouth and nose and pushed your unconscious body into the back of a waiting van. 

×××××

Two hours of near constant complaining to Hotch had gotten Spencer nowhere in his demands to know just where you went. 

He'd called you 36 times since Hotch had told him you'd left, and he hadn't stopped freaking out since. 

“But where did she go?” 

“I sent her back to the motel.” 

“All of our cars, bar the one JJ and Morgan took to the crime scene, are outside and accounted for. The motel is a 34-minute drive away. It'll take her 5 hours on foot through our unsubs hunting grounds, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but she matches the victim profile we just gave. Where is she?” 

A muscle in Hotch's jaw twitched, but neither of them moved, eyes locked in battle to see who would back down first.

A call from Penelope ended whatever disaster was storming between them. 

“Hotch hey, I can't get in contact with mini-Hotch, so here I am. Morgan called earlier from the crime scene. From the way they're posed, he said they could be possible stand-ins for a lost child  a daughter or a sister, so I cross checked the ownership of the vehicles that run with the tires we found prints of at the scene, and I got a name. Like one.”

“Great work, Penelope, send it over.” 

Hotch dropped the call and looked back up at Spencer, readying himself to give orders and push the issue. 

Again, their standoff was interrupted. 

“Hotch,” JJ rushed in, carrying a radio dispatcher, face white, and filled with worry. “You need to hear this.”

“Witness reported an abduction on East and 7th, patrol surveyed the scene and found a cellphone. Identifying information suggests it belongs to a Y/N Hotchner. We're bringing it into the stat-” 

Hotch stood so fast his chair almost crashed to the floor. He stood so fast that he barely had time to dodge the lunge Spencer took in his direction, fist pulled back. It would connect, given the chance  he knew it would. He'd been the one to teach Spencer to throw a punch in the first place. 

Morgan insinuated himself between the two men before, and blood could be shed, quickly pulling Spencer back as Rossi, too, rushed into the room to diffuse the situation. 

“One hour. I've been asking you for one hour where she went, and you wouldn't answer me. You made her leave her gun behind.” 

It wasn't exactly a shout, but there was something broken in his voice, as of his mouth had filled with blood and he could only spit hate at a man who'd been a mentor to him until seconds before. 

“If she's hurt- fuck, if even a hair on her head is out of place, I'll-” 

“What, Spencer? What will you do? She's my daughter. What could you do that-”

“She's my girlfriend! She's my girlfriend, she's the love of my life. God, I want to marry her, I have the ring, I have the proposal planned, all that was left was telling you and then asking her, but you've been such a dick to her about this job, and about cases, and God knows what else, that she doesn't want to say anything to you, and now you've driven her away and she's fucking gone. And she could be hurt or in danger or d-de…” 

He crumpled to the floor, Morgan still holding him as his legs gave way beneath him. 

Nobody moved for what felt like hours, still in their grief, shock, some just nervous to see what would happen next. 

“You've been in this situation before, Hotch. So have I. It's …. It hasn't ended well for us before.” 

The words were so final, so defeated that they sucked the air out of the room.

“Morgan,” Hotch started quietly, eyes still locked with Reid's, still staring down the reflection of his own despair.

“Get Garcia back on the line, I want confirmation that the vehicle that picked Y/N up is the same one that our unsub has been using to set up crime scenes. See if she can lift a name and an address. Rossi, if he's skilled enough to pick up an FBI Agent unaware, we need a SWAT team, get one on standby.”

Slowly growing in volume, he continued, as the room started moving at his signal. 

“JJ, Tara, take over where Reid left off with the geographical profile. Look at Y/N's last known location and how far a car could've gotten in the last 24 minutes.” 

He paused again, staring Reid down. 

“Reid, you're with me.” 

xxxxx

It took you a few seconds to gain a sense of your surroundings when you came to. Partially because of the drug induced migraine splitting your head, and partially because of the mess of ribbons and stuffed toys you'd woken up in. 

A change of clothes, and hands tied to what seemed to be a children's bed and you felt so grossly vulnerable your body shook with a few harsh sobs before you regained your composure and remembered your training. 

The knots on the rope holding your hands were tight. There wasn't much room to move with them pinned above your head, but you recognised them as naval knots. Your unsub had experience at sea, recreational or professional you'd yet to determine. 

Looking around again, you looked for entries and exits, wanting to know how the unsub would come in again and how you could get out. 

There were no windows, but a set of stairs leading up towards a solid door told you that you'd been locked inside a basement. A basement decorated similarly to a child's bedroom. 

Dimly lit by a mass of fairy lights, the room seemed covered head to toe in teddy bears, dolls, and children's books, a sturdy handmade doll’s house standing in the corner of the room. 

Faintly, you heard the creaking of floorboards above you before the handle of the basement door rattled and more light poured in. 

“I bought you breakfast, cupcake.” 

There was no time to feign unconsciousness again as your captor finally came into view. 

He was older than middle-aged, slightly wider around the midsection than you assumed he'd been in his youth. His hair was closely cropped and laid neatly, leading you to suspect he was former military. 

“Oh, good, you're awake. What do you want to do today, cupcake? Daddy has some time off now, I can play with you all you want.” 

You moved slowly, pushing yourself up to a seated position so you could bend your arms a bit. But you didn't look away, needing to keep him in your line of sight the entire time.

“Where am I?” You asked slowly, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“Wow, you must've had a deep sleep cupcake. You're in your bedroom, silly!”

The man's sprightly tone was disconcerting, and you could see a muscle in his forehead twitch slightly as you spoke. 

“O-of course. My mistake. Maybe I'm just still tired.”

He laid the tray on the bedside table and sat on the bed next to you. You tried your best not to shy from his touch as he stroked your hair, but every muscle in your body tensed and pulled from him reflexively. 

A quick glance to the tray and you saw the food he'd brought you was a small cup of pills and a glass of water to rinse them down with. 

If he noticed your flinch, he said nothing, grabbing a hairbrush from the nightstand and beginning to comb through your hair slowly and deliberately, taking care like one would a daughter. 

“Daddy,” you took a chance, recalling the name he'd given himself earlier. “Can we play outside today? I want to go to the park.” 

He stopped moving, and you held your breath as his smile dropped. 

“No, sweetie. You know we don't go to parks.” 

“Why not? I really want to play there, Daddy, please!”

In seconds, his hands wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back down into the bed, holding you there with his tight, suffocating grip. 

“Shut the fuck up you little slut. I said we don't go to parks, you listen. I am your father, you are not being taken by one of those sick freaks again.” 

He released you as quick as he grabbed you and stood up, pacing as he attempted to regain composure. 

“You can draw or we can have a tea party but you know we can't go out. You know that cupcake, I've told you so many times.” 

He grabbed at his hair, pulling it from its carefully styled arrangement into a mess, his fingers leaving red marks against his white skin as he pushed and pulled his head. 

He breathed deeply, and you sat up, trying to regain your composure as you watched him lose his. 

“What was her name?” You whispered, half hoping he would hear you, half praying that he'd ignore you for the sake of his fantasy. 

“W-What?” 

“Your daughter. What was her name?” 

He focused on you again, but his hands - hands that you knew could and would choke the life out of you if you did something wrong again - his hands were shaking. 

You heard the floorboards creaking upstairs and decided to push your questioning, hoping it meant what you thought it did. 

“Why are you saying it like that, ‘was?’ Is. Her name is, your name is Laura, and you're my little cupcake.” 

“What happened to her?” You filled your voice with as much sympathy and understanding as you could muster, one eye on the basement door that was being slowly pushed open. One look at Morgan at the top of the stairs had your heart rate slowing to a calmer speed. You locked eyes with him for a second, halting him, and he nodded, waiting for your signal. 

“You, you're my cupcake, you look just like… She should look just like you.” 

The man sat on the bed again, stroking a hair out of your eye as his filled with tears. 

“Fifteen years. I looked for her for fifteen years, you know. If I hadn't taken her to that park-” 

“That must have been hard.” 

He nodded as he broke down in silent sobs. 

“They said… they said she probably died a day or two after we lost her. When they found her, she was…” he rested his head on your shoulder, let him cling to you as he mourned his daughter. 

“We couldn't identify her, but she had that teddy with her. The teddy with the cupcake in its hands. She never went anywhere without it. So we…we knew.

You looked at Morgan as he slowly made his descent into the room, closely followed by JJ. 

The man looked up into your eyes again, wiping the tears from his face. 

“She was only 8.” He looked defeated, and your heart broke for him, even as you wished to get as far away from him as you could physically muster. 

Morgan pulled him up and away from you as he secured the man with handcuffs, but his eyes remained locked on you. 

JJ untied you and guided you out, but you felt his gaze bite into you ever after you'd left the basement. 

As soon as you were above ground, you let your body divest itself of adrenaline, your legs buckling as JJ tried to catch you. Another set of arms was quicker, though, and you didn't even register Spencer's arrival before burying your head in his chest and letting your sobs escape you. 

He guided you to your feet and walked you out to the ambulance, his arms protectively wrapped around you, his lips peppering kisses along your hairline and forehead, anywhere he could reach. In moments, you were bundled into the ambulance, and three gentle voices were trying to calm you, to pry you away from your comfort doll.

You wondered if you'd die like the unsubs daughter had, if they'd find you clinging to Spencer the way she had to her teddy bear.

“Y/N,” your father's deep voice was clear and smooth, the only thing that was cutting through the wretched moment of pain you were enduring. 

You remembered yourself again, relinquishing your grip on Spencer and wiping the tears from your face as you finally looked towards Aaron Hotchner. 

The paramedics took their chance and began checking your vitals, working around you in a hurry. 

“Dad, I'm sorry, I was walking and didn't notice that he was behind me, I should've been more careful-”

“Y/N, it’s okay. You're okay now.” 

You nodded as he came closer. You ignored the tears in his eyes, trying not to break down again. It had been an age since you'd last witnessed him cry, at another crime scene with another family member and another unsub. You couldn't think about how close you'd come to making him relive his worst nightmare. 

Spencer's hand was still firm in yours, and you held it like a lifeline, though you were sure your nails had to be cutting him by now. It took another moment to register that he was holding onto you just as hard, that he was unmoving, still where he was usually a series of compulsive moments, tapping, hand wringing, fists clenching and releasing. 

You glanced between the men, who had now become quiet as they surveyed you, and noticed the tension. Before you could say anything, though, the paramedics took over. 

“We're going to get you to the hospital now, Agent, one coworker can accompany you in the vehicle, preferably one with knowledge of your medical history.”

Both men immediately moved forward again, as if ready to jump into the van, before turning again to each other. 

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself just as the buzzing in your head from the migraine grew louder. 

“Y/N, it's your choice. Who do you want to come?” Spencer said gently, his body still stiff with worry. 

“I'm her father. This isn't a question of who she likes better.”

“I have her medical records memorized, and I have more knowledge about the drugs the unsub gave her, but Y/N can choose for herself because she is a grown woman.”

You sighed and dropped the man's hand as the medics ushered you into the van fully, but the men were fully absorbed in their fight for dominance that they barely registered it. 

“JJ. JJ is coming with me,” You could see both of them turn back to you to argue, but you continued before they could. “Because I am a grown adult who knows her own medical history, and I don't need my father and my… coworker having territory wars over my wellbeing.” 

And possibly because she'd be the least awkward option to answer the questions about sexual activity and possibility of pregnancy around, but you really did not need to vocalize that. 

“Right now, I'm just a victim you've saved. Go and do your jobs and meet me at the hospital later because I am not doing overtime completing paperwork while on suspension.” 

JJ climbed up into the ambulance and the doors shut, letting you finally get a few moments peace as it began slowly making its way to whatever hospital was closest. 

“He knows, right?” You asked, covering your eyes with your hands as you braved for the answer. 

“Hotch? You could say that he figured it out.” 

“That bad?” 

“Spencer threw a punch at him. He tried to at least.” 

“What?!” Your body shot up, but the paramedic gently forced you back into a laid position, giving you a warning look to stay put as she checked your blood pressure. 

“Don't be too hard on him, Y/N. He thought he was going to lose you. They both did. I don't think either of them would survive it happening again.” 

The guilt hit you right in the chest as you nodded and dropped the conversation. 

“Maybe I should've let Spencer come with me.” 

“Why?” JJ asked, not offended bit curious. 

“Because I'm not entirely sure my father won't throw that punch back at him now he knows I'm okay. It's hard being in a relationship if one of you is dead.” 

The older woman chuckled slightly, and you settled back down, letting the car movements rock you into sleep. 

xxxxx

A few hours later and some quietly bickering voices pulled you from the rest you'd so sorely needed. Without even opening your eyes, you knew they'd both subtly scrambled to your bed to make sure you were comfortable. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked, wiping your eyes carefully as you tried to sit up, arms still aching from being tied up. 

“Oh shit-” you exclaimed after seeing your boyfriends freshly split lip. 

“Dad, what the fuck?” 

“Y/N, it's fine. It doesn't hurt.” 

“Aaron Hotchner, do you have nothing to say for yourself?” You tried to put all of tour anger into the words as you said them, bit he looked at you again with his straight face, and you crumpled under the pressure. 

“I won't…I'm not going to object. I just ask you to keep your private life separate from your work.” 

“And you're going to punch my boyfriend while I'm unconscious, so I can't defend him.” 

“I'm still your father, and he deserved it.” 

You looked back over to Spencer, who was quite notably not meeting your eyes. 

“Do I want to know?” 

“I'm leaving now. Jack will be here soon. He wants to check on you now that school is over. We told him you were hurt trying to save a sick man.” 

“Thank you, dad.” 

He nodded at you and left you alone in your hospital room with Spencer. 

“Why did you deserve it?” You whisper shouted the moment you assumed he was out of earshot. 

“The doctor came in and asked about some old bruises on your upper thighs. And ass. And chest. I had to admit they weren't sustained during the kidnapping, and Hotch wasn't pleased.” 

You huffed out a sound halfway between incredulous and a strangled moan of shame as you curcled yourself up into a ball and tried your best to die. 

“Great. Wonderful.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he thought it was signs of domestic violence and not just rough...sex.” 

“Yes, Spencer, that makes me feel entirely more comfortable with the situation.” 

Registering the sarcasm in your voice, he quieted down again, settling into the chair by your bedside and grabbing your hand. 

You sat silently together for a few minutes before either of you said anything. 

“I'm sorry. I know you didn't want him to find out.” 

“Spencer, you don't have to apologise. All things considered, this is possibly the best way he could've found out.”

“My busted lip suggests otherwise, I think.” 

“And a whole lot more would've been busted if he caught us any other time. Besides, I already lost my job, so there's not much else at stake anymore.” 

The words stung you as you said them, but you did still feel the weight of your dismissal in your chest, spreading miserably through your bones. 

“Does your head still hurt?”

“Not really, why?”

“You're not as perceptive as you usually are.”

You shot him a confused look as he smiled softly down at you, offering a nod towards the small coffee table under the window of your hospital room. 

There on your table sat your creds and your gun. The silent acknowledgement you'd been waiting for from your father. 

Spencer sat by you as you did your best to hold off the tears. He let you pretend there was something in your eye, let you wonder if your eyes had become watery because of dust from the basement. He quietly held your hand as you grinned and grinned until you pulled him in for a kiss and held him close to you. 

His lips were soft as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of you even as he tried to hold himself up and off you so he didn't hurt you. 

“You know,” you said, punctuating each word with another sweet kiss. “This means- that- you're- stuck- with- me.” 

He laughed into your final kiss, finally pulling back for more air, studying your face as if he were trying to memorize it. 

“That was never the issue.” 

“Oh really, and what was?”

He kissed your again, slow and deep this time, taking his time working his hands down from your hair to your neck to cup your face so you were opened up to him, letting his lips and tongue explore everything he wanted to. He pulled away eventually and instinctively your lips tried to chase his, even as he pulled out of reach. 

“Making sure you stayed by my side.” 

[moremaybank]

there's something so delicious about pervy bsf!rafe preying on you when he hasn't gotten laid in awhile (18+)﹐Ꮺ

"what's wrong, rafey?"

the question comes out soft, your hand trailing up his firm bicep before curling around the expanse of it. your nails stroke at his smooth skin in comfort. you're so sweet, the way you're always doting on him. always picking up on his mood changes and burning to fix whatever's bothering him.

so sweet.

he offers you a shrug, his eyes peering off into the distance. "jus' all wound up. s'been awhile since i've had some typa stress relief."

your brows furrow, but then you come to realize what kind of stress relief he's talking about. you aren't sure if that sort of thing falls under best friend duties, but that same part of you that lives to make rafe happy goes off like an alarm. you need to help him out.

"can i help you, then?"

he arches a brow, but at the same time, he's pleased. pleased because all it took was one sentence to set his plan in motion. you'f fallen into his trap so cutely, just as he'd hoped.

"you sure you know what you're gettin' yourself into?" he asks, hands reaching out to grab your waist. he pulls you closer, cheek nuzzling against yours as he lowers his lips to your ear. "not sure that pretty little pussy can take all of me."

"i can," you assure him. "just wanna help you out."

"mm, yeah? you sure?" he hums. he presses a kiss to your temple. "don't wanna hurt my sweet girl. how could i when she's so good for me?"

you turn around, your back now toward him as you shimmy your little skirt up your hips, letting it pool around your waist. your fingers toy with the thong you're wearing, pulling at it in the back to let rafe know that you're ready for him.

"don't care if it hurts."

"no? you don't?" his fingers take over for you, tugging your panties to the side so he can get a view of your tight little holes. he presses up against your back momentarily, allowing him to dip down and kiss your clothed shoulder. then you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, followed by the sound of him spitting onto his palm. he spreads it over his length and positions himself at your entrance. the tortured gasp you let out when rafe's thick cock slides into you, stretching your cunt out wide is enough to make him twitch inside you.

"just want you happy, rafey."

your walls clench around his base and he lets out a guttural groan. "makin' me real happy, doll. so cute, keepin' my cock nice 'n tight in that pretty lil' pussy. now hold onto the counter for daddy."

he watches your hands latch onto the edge of the kitchen countertop, and he smiles. you're getting ready for him. you know where this is going and you're showing rafe that he has complete reign over you.

rafe's palm smooths over your beck, bending you further over the cold marble. "there we go, baby. thaaat's it. stay right there for me."

the angle allows him to slide into you deeper, and he soon starts to move roughly. he can't help it. not when your walls are all slimy and welcoming for him. his hips smack into your ass mercilessly, and you find yourself wondering how you've gone so long without letting him take you to cloud nine.

"rafe," you breathe out shakily. "can feel you deeper. s-so deep, daddy."

"but you like it, yeah? like when daddy fills your guts?"

he doesn't even really have to ask. he knows you do. he can tell by the way you fuck him back like your life depends on it, little moans and cries spilling from your lips.

"mhm— yeah. feels so good," you slur.

"yeah...know it does. know it does, baby. s'cause you're so wet for me. get so wet thinkin' 'bout helpin' daddy, huh?"

you nod furiously, rising onto the tips of your toes as you feel your high coming on. "yes. yes!"

he bends his head down, kissing at your spine. "my favourite girl, lettin' me use her pussy when i need it so bad. you're my good girl, yeah?"

"y-yours, rafey. all yours."

"yeah, mhm. know you are," he affirms, fucking into you hard. "all fuckin' mine. whenever i want, right?"

"whenever you want."

and by the way you tremble as you fall over the edge, he knows it's a promise.

whenever. he. wants.

concepts ; concepts (ii)

[megalony]

Just Hold On

This is my first time writing for Tyler Owens from Twisters, as I absolutely loved the film. I hope you will all like this.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: Tyler and (Y/n) head out together, just the two of them, away from the bustle of the team. But just as they're getting close to one another, a tornado blunders in their path.

(If anyone has any requests for Twisters I would love to hear them. Feedback is always lovely)

Enjoy.

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"You wanna get out of here?"

That one sentence had been enough to spark adrenaline through (Y/n)'s entire system and have her heart working on overload.

It had been something she had been waiting, hoping, praying to hear since the first moment she started to tag along with the 'tornado wranglers' and found herself getting close to the leader of the group. Tyler Owens. The man whose face was on a thousand t-shirts, sold all around the country in every state.

The man who acted like a beacon, like a daredevil who was so eager to put himself into dangerous situations without care or fault. But underneath, there was something endearing and almost bashful. Underneath all the boysterous exterior, there was someone who cared more for the safety of others than himself.

And (Y/n) wanted to be as close to him as she could.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find herself riding alone with Tyler in his modified, beat up truck, but she jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

It was a relief to escape the motel the group had been staying in. No more bonfires outside, no more strange, wild stories that got adapted and emboldened each time they were retold, depending on who told them. And going away from the motel saved (Y/n) from another night alone in her room, unsure what to do with herself.

Those words kept playing around in her head like a record as she sat in the quiet diner opposite Tyler. She wasn't sure why he'd asked her of all people to spend time with him this evening. There were better people he could be around, interesting people, his wrangler friends who never seemed to leave his side.

But none of that mattered now, because he'd asked her and here they were.

Her eyes lifted up from aimlessly staring at her drink to look at Tyler instead. He looked very relaxed. He was slightly slouched down to the left, one hand tapping quietly on the table beside his drink and the other hand drawing patterns on his thigh.

(Y/n) liked his shirt. She liked the black and blood red checkered button up he was wearing and the fact that he had the first three buttons undone. He also had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his lower arms and the veins that were popping up on his skin.

From the closeness, (Y/n) could also see the few scars littering his skin. She could see little white lines slashed against the top of his arms and the deeper white and baby pink scars on his hands that looked like they would have hurt some time ago. She hadn't noticed them before.

From looking at Tyler and seeing all the YouTube videos, everyone would assume he came out of each tornado unscathed. But the scars on his skin gaveaway that he was still human, he still cut and bled and he had indeed been in quite a few scrapes over the years.

"What're you thinking so intently about?" His quiet, gritty voice brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she found herself dragging her eyes up from his arms to look at his eyes instead.

Those pastel green eyes looked unusually wide today. (Y/n) watched his eyes narrow a little as his head tilted at an angle so he could look her up and down in a way that had her stomach turning to mush. And his eyes creased when his lips curved into a low smile that had his cheeks puffing up at the sides.

"Just… just thinking about the chase today, and if it will be the same tomorrow." It seemed like a plausable excuse considering today's tornado had been low level two.

Tyler said those were the better ones to drive into or drive through, as the wind speed was lower and therefore made it easier not to get sucked up into the whirlwind. As much as he liked to drive and run into danger head on, he also seemed to enjoy playing it safe in some ways. He knew when a tornado wasn't safe to go into or when it was time to take shelter rather than run into the winds, as it were.

"And there's me hoping you'd be thinking of me." His tone was playful and his forming smirk was enough to make (Y/n) raise a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

"Why didn't you want to stay at the motel tonight, with the others?"

(Y/n) pushed her drink into the middle of the table so she could fold her arms together and lean forward. Her head inclined as she waited patiently for Tyler to debate the question and think of an answer.

He sat up a bit straighter in the booth, his left hand still quietly tapping away on the end of the table while his other hand shifted to curl around his glass instead. He looked more natural like this when he didn't wear his hat. Although his hat did suit him increadibly well and it gave off a good image, it was still a good chance to see him with his short blond strands roaming free and shifting through the winds when they were outside int he night air.

The diner they had come to was quaint, seemingly in the middle of somewhere and nowhere at the same time. There was a small motel to the left, much smaller than the one they had come from twenty miles down the road. Across the street there was a twenty-four hour store next to a gas station and there was a few scattered houses in the distance. It seemed like a small, compact little place settled right in the middle between two large towns.

Tyler glanced around the diner. He hadn't been here before, but he remembered it was here when they drove past at least three times in the last week. That seemed like a coincidence, a sign telling him he had to stop here at least once and check it out.

There weren't many people here. A young couple at the far end. A mother and daughter the other way. A few workers and one lonesome person at the bar having a few drinks. It was quaint, quiet. Just what they needed after days of chasing tornados and being surrounded by noisy but loving friends.

"Sometimes it's nice to get away." Tyler reached out for his drink while his eyes remained on the girl sitting in front of him.

"What are you getting away from?" She spoke before she could think better of it, but Tyler didn't seem annoyed by her question. Instead, his smirk shifted into a funny half smile, half pout that crinkled the end of his nose.

"Everything… the cameras, the questions, the noise. What about you, what are you getting away from?"

Tyler had been more than intrigued when (Y/n) joined their group. She didn't strike him as the chasing type. The type to go willingly into danger, looking for fun and trouble and answers to nature's mysteries. But that wasn't to say he wasn't happy that she had joined them. She had insight, she had instinct when it came to the changes in weather and the wind patterns and her curiosity for these natural disastrous phenomenon matched Tyler's.

"I'm not, I'm just following your path."

"Right into danger," Tyler twirled his index finger around in circles beside his head with a wicked grin that could make anyone fall to their knees. "You must be crazy."

"Must be." (Y/n) murmured in agreement. There had to be some part of her that was mad or deluded to do this, to do what the rest of Tyler's team was doing. Following him into the line of danger simply because they all believed in him and what he was doing.

But (Y/n) knew it wasn't just a strange, crazed part of her brain that let her follow Tyler's lead, wherever that lead. She knew the other reason she had stuck with them for so long now was because she couldn't will herself to leave. To leave Tyler. He had her heart in his hands and she didn't want it back.

(Y/n) found herself starting to become lost in her thoughts again until Tyler suddenly pushed forward in his seat and leaned over the table. He picked up his glass and downed the last remnants before tapping it against the table with a wide grin.

"Shall we?"

It wasn't clear whether Tyler was planning on getting back in the truck and going straight back to the motel, whether he was thinking of driving around for a while. Or maybe he had it in mind to walk around here first and delay their return. (Y/n) wasn't sure, but she nodded her head and went along with him, she was fine with whatever he chose.

She shuffled out the booth and moved to walk by his side, realising they were close enough that their arms were brushing together.

When Tyler held open the door that chimed a bell, signalling their departure, (Y/n) dipped her head and headed out in front of him.

Their steps fell back in sync as (Y/n) followed Tyler's path towards the truck that was parked across on the left, near the quaint but rather grimey motel.

She was about to try and strike up another conversation until Tyler moved. Without looking her way or breaking his stride, his left hand reached out for her hand. He moved slow, testing the waters as he took her hand in his, meshing their palms together and slowly entwining their fingers together. Giving (Y/n) ample time to pull her hand away and back out if she didn't want to.

But he dipped his head down when he felt her fingers squeeze his hand with intensity and she held to him just as tightly. He began to glide his thumb over the back of her hand and ticked his head to the left, a small but sincerely genuine smile plastered across his lips as he looked at her.

The silence between them was comfortable and seemed to speak volumes in itself. (Y/n) found that one of them- she wasn't sure who- had moved even closer so that their arms were now pressed flush together and if she really wanted to, she could lean her cheek on his arm.

She could feel his thumb gliding over the back of her hand every now and then and she tried to stop herself from squeezing her fingers against his hand too often. Their steps slowed down as they approached the truck as if they were both trying to drag this moment out and make it last into an eternity. Not that they couldn't make this evening stretch on if they got in the truck, they could take a longer route to get back. They could drive somewhere else or drive around aimlessly if they wanted.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to do when they reached the red truck that was hidden behind layers of dirt and caked on mud and flecks of grit. She had one mind to reach out and open the passenger door and climb up, but that meant letting go of Tyler's hand, and she really didn't want to do that.

Instead, she opted for turning so her back was against the door, allowing her to look up at Tyler instead. She found her back pressing back on the door and she hoped there wouldn't be an outline or an imprint of her frame on the door when she eventually pulled away.

Her head tilted back to get a better look up at him and her heart leaped into her throat when Tyler stepped forward. Their hands stayed tangled together. Tyler's right hand pressed against the roof of the truck, allowing him a good angle to look and lean down into (Y/n)'s view.

His head inclined down until they were impossible close, less than half an inch of space between them. All (Y/n) had to do was turn her head and their noses would brush and their lips would touch. She was so close to those red lips that were curved into a smile, not a grin.

Not his usual smirk or that cheeky grin that meant he was going to do something rash or make a joke or try to enlighten the situation and make fun of what they were doing.

The look was kind, caring and seemingly thought out, rather than rash and impulsive.

"Can I?"

(Y/n) barely heard his words and she wasn't quite sure why he was asking when she knew she was at the point of smiling up at him. If she didn't want him to be this close or get any closer, she would have backed away or given him a shove by now.

The feeling of Tyler's lips on hers was something (Y/n) had been imagining for a while now, and something that beat every thought and expectation she had.

She could feel Tyler trying desperately not to smile against her and distort the kiss. And his hand tightened around hers while his other hand moved to cup the side of her face and incline her head more to meet his touch.

When her lips parted, it felt like Tyler was trying to take the little air she had in her lungs and she found herself gasping against his lips, desperately wanting his touch but also needing air.

Tyler's lips curved into a lighthearted smile when they finally pulled apart and their temples rested together. He began to smooth his thumb along the curve of her jaw and up towards her lips that tasted like cherry lip balm. Their noses brushed and when he sucked in a few breaths, Tyler couldn't resist leaning back down for another kiss.

He felt (Y/n) push off the truck and mould their chests together, leaning into him just enough to nudge him onto his back foot and push them both away from the truck. She didn't want to get in the truck yet. She didn't want this moment to end, and neither did he.

"You know, I've-"

Words formed in Tyler's mind like a whirlwind. Everything he wanted to tell her, to say that he had been in agony wanting to kiss her for days, weeks, now. He hoped she felt the same. He wanted to make tonight last into an eternity and stay in this little bubble they had created together. He wanted to continue kissing (Y/n) until the world ended.

But none of those thoughts made it past his lips when something caught his attention.

A shift in the atmosphere. A change in the wind. A very harsh chill collided against his back and almost knocked him off balance.

The wind made goosebumps rise on his flesh and had the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. And another gust of wind sent chills down his spine and made him feel every little speck of dust and grit that rose from the floor and scuttled through the air and knocked against his skin.

Tyler's hand paused, cupping (Y/n)'s cheek and his fingers slotted tighter into the grooves of her hand as he tilted his head back to look up into the night sky.

It felt familiar. It felt daunting.

(Y/n)'s hand clutching his shoulder brought Tyler back and he looked down at her to find that she wasn't looking at him. His name fell past her lips in a dry whisper and Tyler turned to look over his shoulder to find out what (Y/n) was so intently staring at, although he had a gut instinct that he already knew what would be behind him.

A tornado.

A gust of wind circling through the air, picking up in the atmosphere, creating a whirlwind that was mounting and doubling in size.

Why now? Why tonight? Why right here? Right when things were finally going well, when Tyler was finally about to have something different in his life, someone different who wanted him just as badly. They didn't want or need a force of nature interferring tonight, but it was too late.

The tornado was getting closer. The wind was picking up and it was moving across the road in a sporadic pattern that was shifting and changing every second. If Tyler tried to drive through that they would get picked up and ripped apart into oblivion. There wasn't time to try and drive in the other direction, they couldn't outrun a tornado, they could only follow and drive into them.

Tyler's hand dropped from (Y/n)'s face to grip her waist with a sudden desperation while his wide eyes stared around them, trying to find the best place to be. Where was the best place to hide? Did the motel or the diner have a cellar?

The diner had a window on every wall, it was more glass than wall and that wasn't good. Hiding in there meant being close to broken glass and tables and chairs would go flying.

The motel was one story, not like the one they were staying at in the next town which had two floors and a lot more rooms than this. It wouldn't be a safe bet either unless there was a cellar or a storm shelter in the grounds. The shop and the gas station didn't look to be much better and Tyler didn't want to be anywhere near inflammables. The storm could knock things over and rip up the gas pipes. Fires could start and they would go up in flames.

"We have to help them."

He wasn't sure who (Y/n) was talking about for a moment until she used their tangled hands to point towards the motel.

People were starting to rush about. A woman was trying to hurry her daughter towards a car. She was never going to drive through this, their car would be taken from the road and they would never survive.

A quiet "Come on," passed Tyler's lips as he turned on his heels and started to run. He kept his hand tightly tangled with (Y/n)'s, keeping her as close as he could so he didn't lose her in the chaos that was about to ensue.

He felt her other hand curl around his bicep, making sure they stayed tethered together so nothing separated them.

"No, no stop!" Tyler waved his free hand out in front of him, desperate to get the woman's attention as she tried to lift her daughter into the car. "You can't drive in this, we need to find shelter."

He reached out for her arm, not attempting to move or drag her away from the car at all, but just to try and show the desperation he felt and make sure she understood they were only trying to help.

The woman eyed him carefully, tears already falling down her face as she held her daughter against her chest, trembling horribly. But she nodded. Either she knew who he was and knew he had been in this situation before, or she had some sort of instinct that Tyler was trying to help.

She juggled her daughter higher on her chest, kicked the car door shut and turned to follow them. She wasn't sure where they were going, but she would go any way they led if it meant keeping herself and her child safe.

The four of them burst into the motel reception and it was the first time Tyler let go of (Y/n)'s hand. A wave of unease overtook her and she could feel goosebumps travelling up her arm from her empty hand. But when she looked up at Tyler, she found he was already looking at her, as if making sure she was still there now he had let go.

Once satisfied, Tyler slammed his hands down on the desk to get the worker's attention.

(Y/n) tried to look around, but she couldn't see anything. The door to the back room was open, but there didn't seem to be anywhere leading to a cellar or a bunker room or anywhere that looked remotely safe.

She could barely hear Tyler arguing with two men, trying to ask one if there was a storm shelter and tell the other to shut up because there was a tornado approaching. Her arms cocooned around her chest and she spun in circles until she stopped and looked out the window.

Where could they go? Would they be safe enough staying in here? Maybe they could cramp behind the desk, but that didn't feel like a safe option, not when there were at least seven of them here in the reception. Too many to cramp together. The motel could be destroyed if the tornado was big enough, staying inside might not be safe.

Her body flinched at seeing plastic tables and flimsy chairs flying across the grounds outside the window.

Going back outside didn't seem favourable, until (Y/n) squinted in the darkness to see where the chairs were coming from and what was behind the fence up ahead.

She spun on her heels and moved towards Tyler who was close to slamming his fists on the desk in anger because no one seemed to be taking him seriously apart from the mother and her daughter. But the tension fizzled out of his body when he felt two familiar hands on either of his arms. He looked over at (Y/n) as she pressed up into his side.

"There's a pool."

"It's empty this time of year."

"We're not going swimming. Come on." Tyler waved his hand at them, relieved to see the mother, her daughter, and the reception worker were moving to follow. The other couple seemed intent on staying in here and complaining, waiting for the tornado they didn't believe in to come and ravage the motel that would undoubtedly be in its path.

They weren't trying to go for a late night swim and water wouldn't be the safest place to hide during a disaster like this. But pools were deep, at least one end would be very deep. It would act as a shelter, safely made of concrete and built into the ground. It would give them some cover and keep them from being whisked up into the air and taken by the wind.

(Y/n) found her hand clasped in Tyler's once again and she followed him out into the blistering wind, the others following close behind.

It was hard to keep her eyes open and she had to tilt her head down towards her feet to keep pushing forward. Her forehead pressed into Tyler's arm and she gasped, her body shaking as a chair whipped past them, breaking apart mid-air as it got pulled in too many different directions all at once.

As soon as Tyler wrenched open the small gate, it flung back with so much force the hinges started to squeak and break apart. He pushed ahead and leaned over the edge of the pool, checking just to make sure it was truly empty. The last thing they needed was to find it full of murky water that wouldn't provide them any sanctuary.

It was empty.

"Go, go!"

(Y/n) would have preferred someone else to take the lead and go down first, but she could see the mother and the receptionist looking at her. Waiting for her to move, to show them what to do and prove that it was going to be okay and that it was safe. And Tyler wasn't going down there until everyone else was there and towards safety first.

She shakily let go of his hand and twisted around to grab the metal rails that were thankfully drilled so far into the tiles that they would remain stable during the raging winds.

She climbed down half the steps before jumping the rest, she didn't want to waste time.

Once she was down, (Y/n) could feel her balance shifting. The floor was sloped towards the left which was obviously the deep end and combined with the raging winds that were almost forcing her off her feet, she couldn't stand straight.

Her eyes squinted through the weather and she stretched her arms up for the little girl. No point wasting time when they could just pass her down this way.

Once the girl was safely in her arms, (Y/n) clung to her and looked around. the pool must have been in the middle of renovation, for one wall was broken apart so the pipes were revealed. Just what they needed, something to cling to.

She let go of the girl once her mother had clambered down the steps and took hold of her again. "Go to the pipes."

(Y/n) bound her arms around her waist and stood to one side, if it could be called standing when she was being shaken from foot to foot, leaning every which way the wind blew her. Once the worker and Tyler clambered down into the sanctuary of the empty pool, (Y/n) moved closer but her arms stretched out towards them when each of them heard the motel sign begin to creak.

Sparks flew in all directions, casting golden splinters into the wind and the sheets of hail that were flying all around them. The sign swayed and rattled and groaned until finally the metal gave way and snapped apart, falling directly in their path.

None of them could move quick enough and everything seemed to happen at the speed of light.

Both (Y/n)'s arms bound around Tyler when he backed up into her and she felt his hand clamp down on her left hip so tightly his fingers were going to bruise into her skin and his nails were piercing through her jeans. She felt his back slam into her chest and the pair of them slammed down to the floor as the sign landed in front of them, only one inch away from crushing their legs.

It separated them from the receptionist who was shrieking in panic, cast across the other side of the pool.

"Okay?" Tyler managed to splutter as he tilted his head back into (Y/n)'s shoulder and looked up at her through squinting eyes. He watched her nod and he could feel each rapid breath she took which fanned against his back.

He gave her hip a squeeze before he peeled his hand off of her hip and flopped over so he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't stand up. If he did the wind would take him. He had to spread his weight out across the floor so he was heavier and harder to be moved by nature.

He could feel (Y/n) shifting behind him so she was in the same crouching position.

"Go."

"But-"

"Hurry and don't let go." He flung his hand towards the other end of the pool where the pipes were. He needed (Y/n) to stay safe, he would help the man who was still shrieking on the other side of the collapsed sign.

Twisting around, Tyler tried to army crawl along the floor but he was sliding towards the left. His teeth gritted together so tightly it felt like they were going to disintegrate and his jaw was pulsing.

"Stay down- just- no. Stay down, let me help!" He felt like a broken record, repeating various versions of those words but to no avail.

The man wasn't listening to him. He was desperate not to be swept away by the gushing winds, but he wasn't heeding the advice he was being given. If he stood up he would be a target for the winds, he would be easier to move and liable to falling. Staying laid on the ground was his best bet.

"Help me!"

"Get down-" Tyler's hand slammed into the floor and split apart the skin covering his knuckles as a scream left his lips when the man got up.

The tornado got him.

It claimed him as one of its many victims. The moment he was on his wobbling feet, he stumbled backwards, flung his arms out, and took flight like an ailing bird caught in the sea breeze. He was gone. There was no helping him or getting him back. He had been taken and Tyler couldn't do anything. Maybe he would of been better off staying in the motel.

"Tyler!"

He crained his neck to look over his right shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind him. They were cowering against the pipes like they were in some form of protest.

The mother had her whole frame curled around her daughter who had both small arms tangled around the pipes. If the wind picked up anymore her arms looked like they might break, but it was securing her from a weightless death in the air and that was all that mattered.

But it was (Y/n) who held Tyler's attention. Her arm bound around a pipe and her hand clinging to the one below to anchor herself down. Her legs were trying desperately to curl up into her stomach but they were starting to flail around in the air. And her other hand kept moving out in Tyler's direction, grasping for his attention to tell him to get over to them. He had to move. He had to come over and stay safe with them. (Y/n) couldn't lose him.

Tyler's teeth ground together causing a splitting ache in his jaw as he slammed his arms down on the concrete ground. He could feel the pads of his fingers beginning to split and grate against the floor as he shuffled along on his front. It felt odd, army-crawling along like this with the wind trying to lift his legs from the ground and pick him up.

More often than not when a tornado was approaching, Tyler was in the truck driving head first into it. He wasn't hanging around on the side of the road or taking cover in an abandoned pool.

Groans and yells clawed past his lips as he got closer and closer to his destination. To (Y/n).

He could feel his knees scraping against the floor when the wind tried to drag him backwards and he pushed up on his left arm just enough to stretch out his hand.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s hand enveloping around his was the lifeline Tyler needed and she used what little strength she could spare from holding herself steadfast to drag Tyler closer.

Once he was close enough, (Y/n) managed to let go of his hand so she could bind her arm around the pipe again. She couldn't afford not to hang on when she could barely keep her legs from flailing around in the air. Her eyes snapped closed and her forehead pressed against one of the larger copper pipes. It didn't feel like a good move when the wind shook her head and had her temple bashing against the pipe. But it was preferable to having her neck break when her head wobbled every which way but loose.

She could feel Tyler behind her, wedging himself in between her and the mother and daughter. Right in the centre in case either of them let go or needed help or something happened. Ready for action.

But surprise flooded (Y/n)'s stomach with adrenaline when she felt him move.

Tyler's left arm secured over (Y/n)'s arm and his hand clutched desperately next to hers. His chest moulded down over (Y/n)'s back, his arm pinned down over her like he was a blanket securing around her and his right arm reached up to cling to the higher pipe. Both Tyler's legs pressed up into the back of (Y/n)'s knees from the way he was kneeling on the floor and it made (Y/n) feel like she was sitting on his lap. But she didn't care.

He was moulded around her, trying to keep her safe and shield her from the elements. And when he tipped his head down, (Y/n) was sure that despite the raging winds, the whistling sound of metal flying through the air and the distant screams, she could hear him breathing into her hair. It was almost as if he was kissing the top of her head with each harsh breath he took.

"Just Hold on." His voice was loud to compete with the raging winds but it sounded so hollow and quiet in (Y/n)'s ears.

She found herself holding tighter, curling up even smaller, pushing her back against his chest. Doing whatever she felt she could to try and stay where she was and ground herself until the tornado was gone. How long would that be? Was it going to disappear soon? Would it continue and grow larger and suck in the nearby winds and clouds? Would any of them be able to hold on for much longer?

(Y/n) knew if the winds weren't whipping at her face so much, she would have burst into tears by now. She could feel a few leaving the corners of her eyes and being wrenched off into the winds, but those were tears of desperation. Tears trying to moisten her eyes and prevent them from cracking or becoming glued shut with grit and dirt.

She wasn't even close to shedding tears of fear and agony yet. Those would happen once the weather faded, she knew it for sure.

The panic (Y/n) could feel circulating through each and every part of her body momentarily died down when she felt Tyler move. His left arm that had been pinned beside hers briefly let go of the pipe and his iron clad arm bound around (Y/n)'s waist instead.

The action caused her to suck in a deeper breath which shocked her lungs that were trying to take shallow breaths as not to inhale any dust or little objects flying through the air. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she could feel his arm right around her waist and his elbow digging securely into her side just above her hip.

He tugged her back closer to his chest so there was no inch of space between them and his hand secured around a lower pipe so he could hold them both down.

"Stay down, I got you."

He wad anchoring them both together, keeping steadfast despite the elements.

Neither of them quite believed it when the raging winds finally started to die down. In a matter of moments, it was if a switch had been flicked. Everything stopped. Plastic chairs stopped flying through the air. Metal beams and broken chunks of plastic and wires stopped taking flight and were no longer dangerous weapons of nature.

Cars crashed down to the floor and the road, breaking apart on impact, wheels spinning and crashing off into different directions.

Destruction was all that was left in the tornado's wake.

(Y/n) felt her legs slump against the floor and her body slumped to the right, clattering against the pipes now that the wind wasn't lifting her up anymore. She felt Tyler somewhat cushion her fall as she fell back into him and she realised his face was still tucked down against the top of her head. Now she could hear his harsh breaths fanning against her hair which almost felt like he was kissing her head.

Each breath Tyler took was ragged and harsh and made his chest heave and push out against her back. And (Y/n) found herself finally able to open her eyes as she flopped her head back against his shoulder. The action caused him to lift his head, but he simply pressed his lips against her temple this time and kissed her forehead.

She stayed still and horribly tense as Tyler shifted around and wrenched his hands away from the pipes, but his left arm remained steadfast around (Y/n)'s waist.

He looked to his right and reached his free hand out for the woman's elbow, a soft yet slightly bewildered look in his eyes as he croaked "Are you okay?" To which she nodded and hugged her daughter closer who seemed to be mute in utter shock and despair.

"What about you, are you alright?" Tyler looked down at (Y/n) and rested his lips back against the top of her head again but he sighed when he looked at her. He could see her hands were welded onto the pipes, trembling but holding tight, unable to let go for fear of being whisked away into the atmosphere.

He felt (Y/n) try and nod her head but she stopped when he reached his free hand out and carefully curled his fingers around her hand.

"You're okay, you can let go now." His words were so quiet (Y/n) wondered if she had imagined them and she found her hands trembling horribly when Tyler carefully peeled them away.

She dropped her hands down and clutched at his forearms, leaning her head at an angle so she could look up at him better. He looked dashing from this angle, even after an event like that. His hair was barely tousled, only a few strands out of place. He had a few cuts on his hands and exposed arms and no doubt he would have a few bruises, but he looked relatively unscathed.

"And you?" (Y/n) gulped croakily, squeezing his arm as she continued to look him over, checking for any sign of injury that would need attending to.

"I'm fine."

He nudged his temple against the side of her head and closed his eyes for a few seconds to try and regulate his system. He wasn't used to seeing tornados up close like that unless the truck was involved. It had been a while since he had been through one on the ground like that.

"You know," (Y/n) started through deep breaths and welling tears. "I prefer tornados when you drive through them, Mr Wrangler."

Her words had a wide, toothy grin spreading across Tyler's lips and he let out a breathless laugh before he leaned forward to steal a kiss from her slightly chapped lips. Then another. And another.

"Me too, sweetheart."

[disneyprincemuke]

you can't spell lonesome without me * fem!driver

everyone and everything she's ever loved seems to be slipping away from her grasp and she doesn't know how to stop it

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, mick schumacher x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, liam lawson x fem!driver

notes: hi! matt and rocky angst comes after this so hehe gl with this guyz hope u enjoy it because it actually took 20 years of my life tryna write this LOL

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

sebastian keeps telling her that it’s not her fault; to look at the bigger picture to get some perspective. but she doesn’t quite understand why the bigger picture has to have liam in it — frankly, who cares if liam’s qualified 15th and she ended up behind him? that’s not the point.

the point is she finds herself at another weekend where she couldn’t deliver results.

she hasn’t spoken much since she crawled out of her car after getting knocked out in the first round of qualifying. and she appreciates that matt hasn’t forced anything out of her just yet.

she’d stormed out of her garage and tried to get through all her interviews as gracefully as she could. but how could she ignore her results when, week after week, the questions and criticisms are the same?

it’s slowly getting harder and harder to keep her feet on the ground when things are slowly coming undone around her.

and she can’t thank matt enough for letting her cancel their plans without another word. she’d simply uttered that she just wanted to be locked away in their hotel room and he agreed without prodding too much.

she steps out of her racing home, taken aback by the 4 other bodies of her friends that are riddled by the porch, all on their phones. she tilts her head as she holds the door in her hands. “what are you guys doing here?”

logan is the first to look up, furrowed eyebrows and lips pursed in what she can only assume to be out of annoyance. “what do you mean? we’re heading out for ice cream tonight.”

she glances at matt next to her, who’s already looking at her as he awaits her response. she sighs as she looks back at her friends. “i’m sorry, mate,” she apologises, shaking her head. she weaves herself out of matt’s grasp and takes a step forward. “i’m not feeling great tonight.”

“what?” oscar whines, lifting his head from his phone with a slight frown. “is it a fever? are you alright?”

“i’m alright.” she smiles very slightly, picking on her arm as she forces another lie to her lips. “we can go tomorrow after the race, but just not tonight, i think. i’m sorry.”

liam furrows his eyebrows with a loud sigh. “is it because of qualifying?” he grins when she looks over at him. “if it’s any consolation, i’m not happy about it either, mate.”

she laughs softly. “yeah, it sucks.”

“i can’t do tomorrow. my flight’s right after the race,” mick frowns with a sigh. “i’m meeting laila for a bit before the next race weekend.”

“oh,” logan hums, turning away from mick to look at her. “we can go just us, right?”

“i can’t either,” oscar hisses, his frown growing. “i’m flying back home for an event that lily has. she needs me there.”

“ah,” she grins with a nod. she looks at logan. “we don’t have to get ice cream this weekend. it’s okay.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “you’re sure?”

she nods. “i’m sure.”

“it feels like it’s been so difficult to get a grasp of you lately. have you gotten too famous for me?”

she turns around with her head tilted, lips puckered as she takes a sip out of the pepsi can in her arms. “oh, hi max!”

“hi!” max perks up at her smile. “i’ve barely spoken to you since the second race. how are you?”

she sucks in a deep breath as she looks around the busy paddocks, people turning their heads at her and max, and some cowering away immediately when she catches their eye. she looks back at max with a frank smile. “good.”

he lifts an eyebrow. “really?”

she knows that talking to someone would probably ease her mind with all her thoughts. it might even calm her down to a certain degree.

and she almost does.

but she doesn’t. instead, she says, “of course. i feel great, even.”

“well,” max puts a hand on her shoulder, prompting her to snap her head up to look at him, “take my advice, mate. don’t be too hard on yourself.”

but the question still begs: how exactly does she not do that?

there’s a slight scowl on her face as she looks up at the podium. her arms are folded over her chest as the australian national anthem blasts from the speakers.

her best friends have made it on the podium this season — without her. while it’s not totally unheard of that she misses out on the share of glory, it’s never usually her on the receiving end of this torment.

at least not as of late.

to oscar’s left is logan clad in blue, and to his right is mick in the mercedes suit. it’s almost annoying.

there’s an itch in her brain and a smidge of resentment starting to grow in her chest. it’s wrong to feel this way — she knows it is — because these are her friends achieving big things in their sport. but is it so wrong that she’s starting to feel a little jealous?

just a little bit. just a little. just a touch.

maybe if she sleeps this off and wakes up tomorrow, all remnants of resentment would somehow no longer exist.

she shouldn’t feel this way, no. it’s not right. she forces a smile to her face, waving halfheartedly at oscar when he catches her eye. he pumps his fist into the air and waves his trophy in the air.

next to her is lily with her phone up, pictures and videos taken. and of course, ylona’s next to her, waving excitedly at logan as she points at her phone to get him to pose for a picture.

she presses her lips together, annoyance growing in her gut as her airways start to close in on itself. it’s just so hard to breathe especially with everyone pressed up against her. she’s still sweaty from the race, her hair is sticking against her forehead and her race suit starts to feel just slightly restricting.

she huffs softly, hooking a finger into the neckline of her fireproofs.

but everything feels like it’s burning.

“excuse me,” she mutters, dropping her head low as she pushes herself through the crowd. she ignores the way lily and ylona call after her in confusion.

she heaves when she manages to rid herself of the crowd, hands on her knees as she struggles to catch her breath. she catches max’s eye right by parc ferme, engaged in a conversation with charles.

she sees the way he perks up in concern at her but chooses to ignore it. she just picks herself up and heads to the media pen to do her interviews.

the feeling will eventually leave.

she looks around the ice cream parlour, slouched slightly with her hands pressed between the cushion of the seat and her thighs. in retrospect, it felt like coming out after media day would have been the ideal time to come out and indulge in ice cream.

but now that she’s sat here, stuck between liam and mick in a booth, it seems that she has made a mistake.

“what are you having, rocky?” logan asks, tapping the table in front of her to catch her attention. “rocky road with extra marshmallows still? or do you feel like vanilla ice cream today?”

with the way her stomach has been churning recently, any form of chocolate makes her feel sick. she shakes her head. “maybe just a lemon sorbet if they have that available.”

an audible gasp comes from either side of her. she throws her head back and looks between them. liam has the back of his hand pressed up against her forehead, mick’s tilted his head with furrowed eyebrows and logan’s staring down at her with parted lips.

“what are you guys doing?” she asks mellowly, swatting their hands away from her. “don’t touch me.”

“sorbet?” liam scowls, pointing a finger at her. “is everything okay? you’re like sorbets’ number one hater.”

she raises her eyebrows and chews on the inside of her cheeks. “am i?”

“yes,” logan emphasises. “you literally told me off one time for having sorbet during our ice cream dates. you and oscar wouldn’t let me live it down for weeks!”

she blinks at him. “you got a raspberry sorbet, so you had that coming.”

“no!” logan shrieks. “sorbet? really? what’s wrong with you? is everything okay? you always say sorbets are inferior to ice cream.”

she nods hesitantly. she vaguely remembers the one time that she’d gone on a drunk tangent about sorbet not being ice cream. to which she can say that she understands logan’s argument. “well, i’m not really feeling ice cream today.”

mick hums, making her turn her head to look at him. “if it’s just this one time, i guess we can excuse the behaviour.”

she hears logan humming, eyes still narrowed down into a glare. “just this one time, rocky. i’ll give you a chance.”

“great, thanks. i was worried you’d bully me into having ice cream tonight.”

“keep up the sarcasm and i’ll actually force you.”

she flinches when she opens the door to her driver’s room, only to find it occupied. she blinks. “seriously, you’ve got to stop taking advantage of seb.”

“we missed you,” oscar grins, comfortably lying in her bean bag, tapping away on his phone. “and you weren’t answering our texts in the group chat.”

she looks over at matt and points at her friends. “really? you let them in?”

the green-eyed boy shrugs, lips pressed together. “4 versus 1 argument — remember that.”

there’s nothing that she wanted all day but to come back to a peaceful and silent driver’s room. she’d wanted to simply sit with matt in silence before she had to get up and drag her feet to a conference room and come up with diplomatic answers on the spot.

she just needed a couple of hours to herself to think and recuperate. to get herself in a better headspace after these past couple of races.

“where are we heading for ice cream tonight?” logan raises an eyebrow, not sparing her a look as he continues to tap away on his phone.

“ice cream,” she mutters, trailing off as she blinks. “oh, my god.”

she shakes her head, her palm pressed against her forehead. amidst everything that’s been in her head, she’d completely forgotten to research an ice cream parlour for them to visit tonight.

oscar chuckles. “you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”

“yes,” she answers, somewhat apologetically. “i’m so sorry. and i’m busy today, i don’t have the time. can either of you find a place?”

but there’s a different answer that she hopes they would choose instead of the standard answer that they’d give her.

she finds them wanting to say nevermind; that they’ll just not grab ice cream together.

to her dismay, that’s not what mick says. “oo, can i choose?”

“give it a while, kid.”

“i don’t have a while!” she shrieks, looking around at her mobile car, cars passing her from the track. she can practically hear the comments and see the headlines once she steps out of the car when the race finishes. “tell them to fucking get it together! what the fuck is going on?”

she’s looking around wide-eyed, desperate to meet anyone’s eye for an explanation. the longer she stays parked in the pit, for what was supposed to be a pit stop, the less threshold she has to stay in the race.

“this is absolutely insane, seb. i was in p5 before this shit show.”

“rocky,” he hears her sigh into her ears, “just be patient.”

she dug her foot into the acceleration when the sign flipped to the bright green colour. adrenaline pumps through her veins as she convinces herself that her car will be good enough to put her back into a good spot.

that she’s good enough to put herself in a position where she’s no longer on the receiving end of harsh words this weekend.

above all else, she needs to prove to herself that she hasn’t lost her touch as a driver.

“you’re currently in p9.”

“what the hell happened during that pit?” she complains, the urge to roll her eyes growing stronger. “that was so fucked up, seb! you know what– it isn’t. it’s absolutely fucking unacceptable.”

“i know, rocky,” seb answers calmly, clearing his intonation to ensure that the young girl hears him. and actually listens because it doesn’t seem like she’s absorbing much of what he says. “we’ll debrief later after the race, okay? just focus on making the most out of the weekend.”

she grunts. “fine, whatever.”

“ice cream tonight?” logan pops up next to her, grinning when she lifts her head from her intense gaze on her shoe. “found a spot?”

she sighs, blinking. “no. i forgot.”

logan takes a spot next to her on the couch, furrowing his eyebrows. “you forgot again?”

“yeah,” she huffs as she looks away to avoid his gaze. “sorry.”

truth is that she didn’t look for one on purpose. she just simply doesn’t feel like heading out with them tonight.

she just waits for the time that oscar and logan will let her be. perhaps the stupid ice cream tradition needed to be abolished altogether. just seems like a waste of time.

“no worries,” logan grins, patting her head gently. “you’ve had a long couple of race weekends past you. i’ll look for one, okay?”

she breathes out shakily, smiling halfheartedly. “okay, thank you.”

she finds herself dreading the ice cream date with her friends. she trails behind the group with small steps, watching her feet with every step as she formulates a way to escape her obligations.

she clears her throat and lifts her head. “um.”

“she’s spoken,” oscar jokes, grabbing logan’s arms — previously hitting him — and turns back to grin at her. “the curse must have been broken.”

“someone found the unmute button on the remote!” logan giggles, scrunching his nose. “what’s up, rocky?”

liam hums with a smile. “your girlfriend remembered she has friends!” he looks over at matt and nods. “good for her.”

“i’m like,” she trails off, biting down on her lip as she forces another lie out, “totally not feeling great. i’m on my period and i’m kind of lightheaded. is it alright if i sit this one out?”

“aw, bub,” matt coos, shoving liam off of him, arms extended as he approaches her. he tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows. “you’re on your period?”

she looks up at matt, wide-eyed as she slowly nods. “just got it before we left my room.”

which is a lie.

“aw, does that mean matt’s not coming with us?” mick frowns, furrowing his eyebrows. “i haven’t spent time with him forever, that’s so unfair.”

she shakes her head, flashing mick a small grin. “no, it totally doesn’t mean that. he can go with you guys — i just wanna head back to the hotel and take a nap, really. i’ll be okay on my own.”

matt hums. “i’ll go with you.”

“you should go with them,” she laughs, grabbing his arm with a small nod. “i’ll text you when i’m back, i promise. i’ll be okay — i just need to take a nap, i reckon.”

logan furrows his eyebrows and his smile drops at her insistence. “i can walk you back to the hotel if you want.”

she shakes her head. “i’ll be okay. you guys have fun, okay?”

she kneels on her beanbag, lips pressed together as she looks out of the tiny window of her driver’s room. right by the porch of her racing home are her friends gathered, laughing and having a good time as they awaited her arrival.

“bub,” matt sighs. “are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?”

she turns around with a small smile, scrunching her nose. “i’ll be okay, bub. i’m just not really feeling like heading to the club tonight.”

he walks over to her, slumping his shoulders as she leans into his body for a hug. “at least let me stay with you? i don’t like you being alone when i’m around. i’m sure we can come up with some silly excuse that they won’t giggle at like 12-year-olds.”

“you have to go,” she hums, pulling her head back to look up at him, “it’s logan’s race win — just go in my place, please? tell him i’m really sorry i can’t be there.”

he hums, cupping her cheek. she leans into his touch with a soft sigh and her eyes fluttering close. “you should tell him that yourself. you owe him that much; he’s your best friend.”

she shakes her head, her hand coming up to rest above the hand that’s on her face. “i can’t,” she chokes, tears filling her eyes, “you know how i feel about this. just do this one for me, bub.”

“fine,” he sighs, hunching over to press his lips to her forehead. “but you can’t keep avoiding logan and oscar and throwing me out there to face them. they miss you, you know?”

she can hear logan’s laugh in the air mixed with ylona’s. she grins slightly, “i’m sure they’ve got better things to care about other than me.”

“don’t even say that,” he pulls away, “text me when you get back to the hotel, okay? i love you.”

she scratches the back of her head roughly, nails digging into her scalp as she holds her helmet in her hands.

she mutters under her breath as she tears everything off from her body: her balaclava, her gloves, the earpiece. everything’s not right, everything’s not going her way and that’s unfair.

nobody’s worked as hard as she has to be where she is right now is all that goes in her head. it’s unfair that she’s getting the brunt of the criticism when it came to andretti’s performance on the grid this year.

she doesn’t see liam getting decimated by the masses, and she clearly doesn’t see it on sebastian or her team principal or mechanics for not producing a car to get results in a weekend.

she’s qualified at the very back of the grid this time — p19. just imagine what everyone will have to say; what everyone will zoom into just to have something to say about her driving.

it’s always her skills, never the fact that the car is simply shit.

“rocky,” she hears sebastian sigh behind her. “let’s talk.”

she shakes her head, clenching her jaw as she heads towards the exit of her garage. she doesn’t bother turning around to look at him. “just fuck off.”

the one thing she wishes to stop coming by is sebastian’s excuses for the team. it’s the same thing over and over again. it’s unfair that she’s the one getting fucked over by the media.

it’s not fair.

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[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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[space-matt]

Could I request a Matt x reader.They have been dating for a while but the reader has never left that honey moon stage.One day Matt is not having a good day and the readers presence make him on edge.He ends up blowing up on her calling her overbearing and clingy.Things shift and she becomes more distant,for a while he feels ok but he starts to miss the relationship they way it was before.when he tries to talk to the reader she cries to him about the whole situation.He is really sorry and does his best to make it up to her.

I’ll make it up to you 

matt.sturniolo x fem.reader

summary: It's really true that you understand the value of things when you lose them.. Matt figured it out too late, but will he be able to make up for it?

request: yes 

author’s note: thank u so much for the request!! I hope you’ll enjoy it ♡ I added the song that helped me to write it. For everything I’m here!

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English is not my first language, if you see grammar and typing mistakes, I apologize in advance! I just ask you not to be rude to me ♡

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revised

Still lying in bed you feel the heat coming from the window left half open in Matt’s room, with your eyes closed you stretch by turning to the other side meeting a boulder of a blanket, you reach out your hand in search of your favorite person but to your surprise, your hand leans on the mattress, so you open your eyes trying to focus and notice that half of the bed is empty.

You've been together for seven months and thirteen days now, and you have to say that they are the best months of your life; Having never had previous relationships, it can be said that Matt is your first true and actual relationship in your 20 years of life. 

Everything had started as a pure joke between you two to make fun of Chris and his girlfriend Maddy, but the more time passed, the more you began to feel real feelings towards the boy who unlike you had liked you for a long time, but for fear of being considered only and solely a friend, he wanted to avoid putting his heart in the foreground and listening to the rational part of his brain. 

But fate wanted that one evening while you were saying goodbye to go to your own house, the moment you were about to press a kiss against his cheek, Matt turned earlier than expected causing your lips to collide, making you immediately move away but when you stopped to look into his eyes you saw in both of them a spark to burst a breathless kiss.

It must be said, from that moment you have been together, indeed perhaps precisely because it is your first relationship that you try to always make everything go for the best unlike Matt who still had his first relationships during his adolescence that, however, according to him, ''they can't compete with you''. Of course, it scares you that sooner or later it may get bored or otherwise lose interest in you, but you still try to eliminate this thought and be the best girlfriend in the world. 

So you get out of bed by completely opening the window so that the room can change air, leaving the bed undone; Take your change in the drawer that Matt has free so that you can put some of your things when you stay at his house to sleep, and you head to the next bathroom without noticing who is in the open space connected by a small corridor to his room.

Meanwhile Matt was lying on the sofa, the TV turned on in the background, with the phone in his hand looking at the various social networks but his mind was elsewhere, indeed the day had started in the wrong direction.

All night you did nothing but stay attached to him not making him move, which didn't make him sleep a wink and that's why he was quite nervous.

His brothers were still in their respective rooms changing, as they would then be out all day under your precise instructions, as you wanted to spend a day entirely with Matt before leaving for spring break in two weeks. 

When Nick and Chris find themselves in the living room ready to go out, Matt pulls up his head ''Do we have any meetings today?'' He asks confused getting up and putting the phone in his pocket ''The two of us yes, you have the day off today.. enjoy it'' Chris replies with a grin on his face which vanishes when he hears a puff from him ''Wow I didn't expect all this enthusiasm '' exclaims ironic Nick going to the door of the house ''Please let me come with you, I need to disconnect, I need air'' Matt responds whispering so as not to be heard by you ''Sorry MattyB but no'' says Chris taking a can of Pepsi from the fridge and then he goes out too.

Another puff comes out of his lips knowing he has to stay with you all day, and resignedly throws himself back on the couch closing his eyes.

When he feels your steps approaching a sense of annoyance and nervousness pervades his body, he can't even understand the reason for all this but it's already been a couple of days that he just wants to have a moment for him, but with you in the middle it's almost completely impossible.

On the other hand, you do not notice anything different, perhaps because taken by too much love even the most obvious things go unnoticed by your eyes in the shape of a little heart. 

All happy you go to the kitchen take water pouring it into a glass, you notice Matt on the sofa, you leave the glass on the counter and go in his direction lowering yourself to his height ''Babe, let's go out for breakfast?'' you ask trying to caress his hair but at your touch, he moves by sitting down looking at you ''I can't, I have to go out'' he responds annoyed without even looking at you, leaving you a little surprised but doesn't give up trying with a ''Then when you come back we can go for a ride at Lake Hollywood Park, right?'' hopeful in one of his answers but the only thing he pronounces is a ''See you later'' without greeting you and leaving the house, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room. 

The hours go by and so does your enthusiasm, you start thinking about the worst situations in your mind, which do nothing but increase your paranoia;

Okay maybe you recognize that in the last period, you have always been with them but although it has been almost a year since you moved to Los Angeles, you have not been able to make many friends due to your armor that you tend to raise when it comes to new people. But with Nick, Chris, and Matt it's different, you've known them since you were little, and with them, there was never a need to create a wall to protect you, because they are your guardian angels.

You've always gotten along, except for a few quarrels which is normal, but you've never noticed before behaviors so distant from Matt, as if your presence wasn't welcome.

When you hear the door open you hope that your boyfriend's figure will come out of the stairs but you recognize the voices of Chris and Nick, you resign yourself completely on the couch with your pajamas and the tray of ice cream on your legs.

''Ookay... why are you at home? Didn't you have to go out?'' Nick asks looking at you confused ''By the way where is Matt?'' Keep looking around ''I have no idea'' you answer him in a subtle voice while you eat a spoonful of vanilla ice cream, you feel the tears stop at the corners of your eyes, so you don't see you turn your head on the other side putting the teaspoon in the tray ''He came out this morning and never came back, I tried to text him and call him a couple of times but I didn't receive an answer'' you keep whispering closing your eyes making the tears fall.

You feel the package of ice cream being removed from your legs and two arms that surround you, from the essence that envelops you, you recognize that is Chris and with your eyes still closed you abandon yourself in a liberating cry after holding it all day ''Shh, it's okay'' he whispers massaging your back ''You know that now and then he has its relapses and behaves like this'' he keeps trying to reassure you.

You pull up with your nose and detach yourself from his arms ''But with me, he had never behaved this way.. at all he always came to me'' you explain looking in his direction receiving almost an expression of pity on his face ''What do you say if we order something and watch a movie here all together? We will make you choose'' announces trying to cheer you up But on your part, he only receives a nod with your head.

Even though he had spent the whole day outside walking around the crowded streets of Santa Monica, his mind did nothing but think about the time to get home, the only thought of having you always stuck made him take his breath away, of course he cared you but this so much physical contact, at that time, was leading him to detach himself from everything, but especially from you.

That's why he had waited for a late time to come back, so as not to have to face you trying to postpone everything to the day of your departure. But you know how his thought works more than yourself, in this way after finishing watching your comfort movie together with the two boys, you decide not to go to sleep right away but to stay on the couch not being able to stay alone in bed without Matt by your side, with the knowledge of having done something wrong. 

The fact that there was no communication between the two of you was new, you have always been the anchor of each other, and not being it in a short time has completely upset you, especially not understanding how to act, and consequently how to find a solution. 

The silence that reigns in the house is broken by the noise of the keys that are inserted into the door patch, your heart begins to beat quickly but you remain motionless sitting with your gaze turned in his direction, while he tries to slowly climb the entrance stairs but when it reaches the last one, he stops seeing you pulling his eyes up ''you shouldn’t have waited up for me, there was no need'' he says changing towards the fridge taking a bottle of water but no longer being able to hold back your thoughts for you ''What have I done? It's all day that you avoid me indeed it's days that you behave strangely'' you blurt out getting up to get closer to him, and given your height difference you are forced to pull up your head to look him better in the eyes.

As you stand in front of Matt, you can feel the bitterness in his words cutting deep into your heart. "What did you do to me?" he asks, his voice laced with anger and frustration. "There's that you've become overbearing and clingy. I can't take it anymore. You're always sticky, I never have a free moment, and if I have it, you're always there" he exclaims with clenched teeth and a hard look.

His words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you take a step back, not believing what you're hearing. "We weren't like that before, and now I understand why no one has ever wanted you" he adds with wickedness, making you feel small and insignificant.

You try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat. You know what you've been through, and you've always hoped that Matt would understand. But instead, he holds it against you, making you feel like an outcast.

"You're an asshole" you finally manage to say, raising your voice as tears slide down your face. It's not like you to use such harsh words, but you're hurt and angry, and you can't help it.

At that moment, Matt opens his eyes, and you can see the surprise and shock on his face. He had never heard you say such a thing to him. Among all people, it was always you who used a calm tone, even in the most difficult situations.

Seeing you rush into his room, he follows you around, but when he sees that you start to take your bags, he realizes that he has exaggerated. "What do you do?" he asks, trying to take your arm. But with all the anger that you had in your body, in very little, you wriggle from his grip. "Let go of me" you say in a dry tone.

"I'm not going to stay in the room with you anymore. I'll go to Nick's, and I'll bring all my stuff" you finish, closing the zip and dragging the bag on the ground. As you come out of his room, you find yourself facing the two guys who, from the screams, immediately catapulted to see what had happened.

As you ask Nick for help, you feel exhausted and drained from the situation at home. Without even turning to see him, his hand takes the bag from yours and you head up to the room with the older brother. In the distance, you hear Chris saying, "Dude you have already done too much damage, let her be."

Days pass by, but the situation at home remains the same.

After receiving some harsh words, you decide to build a wall between you and Matt and try to avoid being alone with him.

You attempt to behave like a mature person, spending more time with the two brothers and going out on your own when they can't accompany you.

Matt, on the other hand, feels good when you're not around. However, as time passes, guilt starts to creep in, and he realizes that he doesn't want to push away the one person who means the world to him.

He understands this even more when you don't even look at him at the airport and leave without a single glance. "Why did I do wrong to her?" he says to himself as he watches you go through security checks. "Because you're a jerk, that's why" answers Nick, watching him with a serious expression.

Although he regrets his actions, Matt is determined to make things right between you two. Without telling anyone, he packs his backpack with only the bare minimum and heads off to the other side of the country.

Spring break is coming to an end, and leaving your family and friends in Boston again feels like a stab in the heart. This time, it hurts even more because you know that once you get back, you'll have to fend for yourself completely, starting with finding an apartment.

You and your family were having a pleasant evening playing board games when you heard the doorbell ring. "Were you expecting someone?" you asked, moving your pawns on the board. "No, we weren't. Why don't you go and answer it?" your mother replied, gazing at you with a gentle expression. You got up from your spot, a little confused.

As you reached the door, you saw Matt standing outside with a bouquet of your favorite tulips and a puppet with the words <I'm stupid> written on it. The sight of the flowers made you smile, but you didn't let your guard down completely.

''Please, I have to talk to you''

"You have five minutes" you told him as you closed the door behind you and sat on the porch, keeping a distance. He handed you the flowers and the puppet, and you accepted them, putting the flowers next to you and holding the puppet in your hands.

"I'm sorry" he began, fiddling with your fingers. "I know I'm not good with words, but I realize now that I was wrong to say what I said.

I shouldn't have blamed you like that. I just wanted to talk to you and explain my side of things."

He paused, looking down, and when he looked up again, his eyes were watery. You felt your own eyes fill up with tears, too.

"I don't want to lose you" he said, touching your cheek. You closed your eyes and put your hand on his. "I was an asshole, but I understand that now that you're gone."

You spoke up, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was a low blow. You've never made me feel so small and helpless before. But I have to admit, I've been clingier than usual lately. That's just my way of showing you love, and if you don't like it, we can end it here."

"No way" he said, taking a step closer. "I flew over 2,500 miles to see you and tell you I love you more than anything. We just need to communicate better and make sure we're both happy. I'm here because I want to be and make it up to you." concludes by looking into your eyes '' I love you too... but please let's not hurt ourself anymore'' you leaned your forehead against his and felt his lips on yours in a gentle kiss.

When you pulled away, you grinned and grabbed the puppet. "Would you be him?" you asked, laughing together.

----------------------------------------------------

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[syntheticavenger]

Mr. March - Two

So the teaser has now turned into something else. Thank you for the ones who have enjoyed this story, I hope you like this next part!

Alpha! Bucky Barnes x Omega! Female Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language and that's about it.

Summary | Making fun of a friend for his new found fame is one thing, falling for a rule following librarian while balancing his own rise of attention is another.

Dinner for one never really bothers you.

Usually treating yourself to one indulgent night a week, you’ve almost forgotten the feel of the curious and sometimes sad stares, as if you were possibly stood up on a date. You’re free to order a bottle of wine and dessert, without any snide comments, paying your own check before you’re well on your way back home.

Tonight though, between the clink of wine glasses and utensils on expensive plates, you feel it – a weird sort of curiosity if this is sustainable. If you’re able to continue this narrative you’ve drawn out for yourself, having solo dinner dates and getting home by eighty on the dot, enough for you to unwind before bed, before you have to wake up to a new day of responsibility.

A slight push of the half empty wine glass and you’re ready to go, your dinner paid for and the looks of other patrons now fading from your purview, shrugging on your coat and checking your phone for the time.

You’ve ignored the last two texts from Janet, who sent you a picture of the books on hold, asking about why you’ve held books for Mr. March.

Mr. March.

You’ve seen the calendar that Janet had purchased at the beginning of the year, hidden in her desk because hanging it up would be a scandal. How a charity calendar got so famous is beyond you, dodging it every first of the month because people have never seen a good-looking man wearing next to nothing before. You didn’t need to purchase it. Why would you? What a waste of money that you could be spending on something else.

Like the houseplant that is barely hanging on by a thread that you seem to forget to water until you’re at work, silently cursing that you forgot, only to set a reminder on your phone that you silence when you stay at work too long.

You remember now, padding down the hallway of your apartment once you kick off your heels, picking up the plant to inspect it.

“Please don’t wither away and die,” you whisper to it, hoping it will take your impassioned plea to heart and thrive.

Maybe you’re not just talking to your plant.

-

“Why didn’ t you tell me he was here?”

Under the harsh white light of her office, Janet gives a pout, her voice in a near whimper when she asks the question. She sighs dramatically, leaning back in her chair while she pulls up a picture of James – Bucky – half his face obscured with a camera as he lies shirtless and in a pair of jeans with two buttons undone, his sculpted physique on display.

Impressive for people who are into that sort of beefcake lust. She even bought you one for your birthday that you had slipped to another co-worker. 

“You know, I loved Mr. December but there’s something about a former military man,” Janet continues, placing her phone back on the desk. “I’ve met him a few times, you know.”

“Mr. December?” you ask, wondering why she asked to see you in her office so quickly the minute you had walked in.

Clearly, judging by the way Janet moves back and forth in her chair, waiting for you to give her a play by play of your interaction with him, this isn’t any sort of serious business by your standard.

“No, silly. Mr. March. He was with Mr. July when they were signing calendars. Hotter in person and he comes to the library a lot.”

“Ah.”

There’s not much else you can say, Janet continuing on with her quick meet and greet. You like having her as a boss most of the time. She’s damn good at her job when she wants to be and makes long days bearable because she watches reality television and can recite pop culture facts when you need a distraction.

“So he’s coming back today,” Janet asks, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. “Did he tell you what time?”

“No.”

You know why she’s invested but it still makes no sense as to why she’s asking. For all it’s worth, she can give him the books – as long as he’s made good on his word to bring the other one back.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t give him the books.”

“It’s policy,” you protest, frowning at her response. “In section twenty-four, it states -”

Janet waves her hand in the air to brush away the rest of your statement.

“I know what it says. It’s a guideline, sort of. I guess it worked out in our favor, since he agreed to come back. Damn it,” Janet says with a disappointed sigh. “I wish I was an Omega. Leave it to my Beta parents to birth yet another Beta.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Beta. Trust me,” you counter, seeing her shrug. If anything, it doesn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, seeing her straighten her posture when her office phone rings.

It rarely does and that’s your cue to leave, getting up as she answers it nervously, grasping the receiver while mouthing that she’ll continue the conversation later. It’s a reprieve that you take, closing the door behind you and exhaling a breath.

-

“Next in line?” you ask, breaking away from cataloging a new set of books that arrived. Your co-worker Lily is on her break, leaving you to man the desk.

The sound of a book plopped onto the counter gets your attention, peeling your attention away from the monitor to see him again, straightening your shoulders at the sight of the missing book in front of you.

He raises an eyebrow at you, his scent hitting your nose before you clear your throat. You aren’t going to be swayed by some Alpha, no matter how good he may look or smell.

“Library card?” you ask.

He hands it to you without hesitation, swiping the card through the reader before scanning the book back in. 

“Thank you for bringing back the book, Mr. Barnes.”

“Thank you for keeping your word and holding my books for me.”

You know he can see them on the counter, taking the book and dropping it in the bin.

“We had an agreement,” you remind him, turning to get the books from the counter. When you lift the sticky note, he clears his throat.

“What name did you use to hold them?”

Pausing, you don’t answer, wondering why he would ask such a question.

“The name you told me.”

“Really?” he questions. “James or Bucky?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does in case I accidentally hold onto a book for another three years. Someone else could come in here and request my books I place on hold. Or rather, that you place on hold. What if you aren’t here? Someone could give my books away.”

“I would place it under any name you choose.”

“Then what was the name you put?”

Like a dog after a bone, you think, saying nothing in response to him, placing the books onto the counter without the note that is crumpled into your closed fist.

“Barnes,” you lie, keeping a straight face as he looks disappointed.

“That’s very formal.”

“This is a library,” you recite, scanning the books one by one. “And I also would write down your library card number so they could look it up.”

“You did that this time too?”

Your back stiffens at his inquiry.

“No.”

“Why not?

“Because I’m here today,” you explain to him slowly, like you would with someone understanding this for the first time.

“Fair. I mean, I do like the individual service.”

You clear your throat, pushing the books over to him.

“Individual service is something we strive for at the library. Books are due within thirty days of today’s date. As you remember from our last conversation, you will be unable to borrow any books if these are not returned in a timely manner.”

He nods in understanding, still watching you before you frown.

“Did you need anything else? You have your books,” you remind him.

“No, I guess not. Sorry, I…” he trails off. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry that I didn’t return the book I borrowed in a timely manner and I really appreciate the grace you’ve given me to hold the books I can’t wait to read.”

For a moment, you relax at his soft tone. Alphas scare you – always have – but this one showing you a little grace gives you a slight hesitation of whether or not you can allow this proverbial olive branch.

“You picked some great choices,” you compliment, seeing the hint of a smile on his lips. “And it was my pleasure.”

There’s a sound of a table squeaking loudly, two children shouting over what appears to be a teddy bear that the library allows for reading in groups, sending you on high alert to check on them.

“Sorry, I need to see what’s going on,” you murmur, moving away from the desk and toward the commotion, your co-worker rushing toward the deafening screams, passing you by.

You slow your steps when the meltdown is solved – another teddy bear to the rescue as everyone quiets down.

“Hey, you dropped this,” he says behind you, leaning down to pick up the crumpled sticky note as the horror of what he will see sinks in.

“I can take it,” you say quickly, Bucky reading the note before he smiles right in your face.

“You’re a good liar,” he says with a nod, handing you the note that you take from his hand. Embarrassment floods your entire being, your face hot with anxiety when he nods.

“I guess that’s my claim to fame. Wouldn’t have pegged you as someone who has one of those calendars though. Janet on the other hand…”

“I don’t,” you snap, shoving the note into the pocket of your skirt. “It was a little inside joke.”

“For who?”

“I have to go on break,” you rush out, head down as you head toward the back of the library. “Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.”

“I will,” he says behind you, his voice full of amusement. “You too.”

-

Two bags of take out are on the kitchen counter, Steve giving a sheepish smile at his roommate.

“I know, I know. It’s my turn to make dinner but I got caught up with -”

“The Omega in 7C?” Bucky asks, picking at the plastic ties of the bag, his mouth watering at the scent of what Steve bought for dinner. 

“It’s not like that,” Steve refutes with a shake of his head. “She’s… you know that apartment is run down. She won’t move because she said she gets a discount on her rent and…” 

Steve trails off, noticing Bucky looking at him with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Steve continues, Bucky doling out their dinner onto two paper plates. “She’s just a nice girl who happens to have a… not great apartment.”

“Steve, you know it’s okay if you like her. I think she likes you too.”

That does it, Steve’s cheeks burning bright when he digs into his dinner.

“It’s not like that, Buck.”

“I didn’t say it was. Attraction is attraction.”

“It’s our designation,” Steve points out. “It’s natural, pretty textbook.”

“Yeah? Then why did you stomp around the house the other day when 7A insulted her?”

“Because Peter Quill is a complete asshole. Can you believe he mentioned wanting to help her through her heat? Who says that to a complete stranger? He’s also a complete idiot, by the way,” Steve fumes, taking an angry bite of his dinner, chewing quickly as Bucky nods and waits for him to finish. “He put dishwashing liquid into his dishwasher and wanted to know why there were suds everywhere, he called me Super Maintenance Bro and I am not his bro, Bucky, there is no way he should even be allowed near 7C, let alone any Omega.”

Steve lets out a short exhale, shaking his head in disbelief when Bucky decides to poke around.

“She has you,” Bucky points out, Steve not replying as he eats. “You told me you made sure she locked her door because she always forgets. If you didn’t care about her, you wouldn’t do that. Nor would she send you pizza or whatever the hell else she gives us when you fix something of hers. And it’s always your favorite comfort foods, Steve.”

“We’re just tenants and I happen to be the maintenance man.”

Bucky snorts in response, Steve rolling his eyes.

“And what about you? Two trips to the library in two days? That’s unusual,” Steve quips. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

Steve gives Bucky a deadpan stare, Bucky picking around his plate with his fork.

“You came home with three new books today and I haven’t seen you smile that much since you got your new job. What gives?”

“Just like reading.”

“Uh huh,” Steve agrees sarcastically. “I wonder if there’s a new librarian there. Or maybe you’ve let your guard down and decided to give Janet a chance.”

Bucky does laugh then, Steve breaking into a smile as they fall into a comfortable silence.

He’s not ready to talk about you yet. Mostly because there’s nothing to talk about in this current moment and there’s nothing else he can say without Steve getting more ammunition to tease him.

Truthfully, he half expected you to back down when he was asking you questions but you kept up with him. For a moment, while Steve launches into a story about work and his co-worker Scott, he zones out thinking of the slight nose scrunch you gave him when you were displeased with his questions, the wide-eyed gaze of surprise when he picked up the paper that you had dropped.

A napkin hits him square in the forehead, breaking his concentration.

“What was that for?”

“Daydreaming about the library,” Steve replies with a sly smile. “Looks like I’m not the only one with someone on their mind, am I?”

Bucky looks down at his empty plate and shrugs, knowing that Steve probably won't buy his next line.

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

[councilofcastamere]

DANGEROUSLY YOURS | AEMOND T. X READER

"An eternity without me. You will look into the faces of passers-by that will, for an instant, bring me back to you. You will find moonlit nights strangely empty, because, when you call my name through them, there will be no answer. Always your heart will be aching for me, and your mind will give you the doubtful consolation that you did, a brave thing."

Cesar Romero as Victor Morell - Dangerously Yours (1937)

CREDITS FOR THE AEMOND PICTURE TO ultravi0l3t on Pinterest!

You were foolish. Foolishly in love.

The moonlit lit up, and the hour of the owl drew closer and closer. And yet, no sign of your little brother Lucerys. With each breath you drew, your heart stilled more and more.

You just knew it was him. You knew Aemond would. You had always known he'd wait for the right day to strike. The tears streaming down your eyes could've drowned you for all you care, but you wished for everything you had to bring Lucerys back.

And the one thing worse than that was the trust you put in him. You blinded yourself by love and drowned yourself in trust, all for him. All for the one-eyed prince you grew to both love and loathe.

You loathed yourself. You felt as if the world could have swallowed you up and no one would blink an eye. You had hoped for one day where you could look back at it and laugh, but at what point in your life could you ever let this go? A tragedy at your hands. You had not even attempted to stop him from departing to the stormlands.

Before you could bite back another sob, one feet stepped forward, and so did the other. Repeating the process before you could even register you were in front of the prince's chambers.

You didn't know what you would do first. Would you strike him, or would you cry into his shoulders? You wished for the former one, prayed to the Seven that you would be strong enough to shun him as he shunned your concerns.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the door opened just enough for his face to peek out. His hair was hastily brushed, as if he wanted you to see him in a different light. As if you ever could.

"Let me in." you simply uttered, not sure if you were speaking about his chambers. "Let me enter."

His eye scanned over you, over your purple nightdress and your hair undone. Even in the nocturnal hours, you looked as majestic as ever.

Your brown curls, so reminiscent of your father.

But he couldn't care less about your father, no.

Not your brothers. Not your mother. No. You.

And right now, he wasn't sure if he could face your tragedy-stricken self. He felt validated in the slaughter he committed, but your words could've alone made him repent for forgiveness.

He contemplated a few seconds, before ultimately opening the door wide. The room was neat, with the exception of his books sprawled out on his bed and table. You had never seen it before.

"Where is Lucerys?" you asked quietly, your voice cracking as your hands clenched at the side of your dress. "He hasn't come home. Mother won't tell me anything. She's still in Dragonstone, and I am here. I have been here for years, waiting to marry you."

His gaze was prideful, yet you weren't able to see his heart ache at your own grief. Whatever you felt, he felt. His feelings were dangerously yours, and yours were his.

"Stormlands." he answered, turning away as to not feel too much. "At least, if the sea hasn't swept him somewhere else."

Your head whipped up, and you swear you could feel your neck cracking if the rage hadn't consumed you.

"We both know he isn't in the ocean." you spat, the tears streaming down again. "What have you done, Aem-"

Aemond couldn't have it. He knew your last word.

'Aemond' instead of 'Aemy. He hated that you felt the need to use his full name. You had never used his full name, and you were not about to start now of all times.

His rugged yet soft lips were felt on yours, interrupting your words. The feelings in you dissipated, and you wanted to feel angry again.

How you wished to feel anger, sadness, anything.

But how could you when love overpowered it all for him. Only for him, by him. You loathed yourself for it.

"Get yourself dressed." he murmured against your lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. his nails gently scraped against your delicate skin.

"We'll be wedded by the end of this night. You and I. No one else."

[mingwrites]

What do you think about sub!yeosang AND sub!yunho? Like, together with dom!reader?

I think that Yunho would be a little hard to handle, because he wants to please? Yes, but he's like, too energetic, do I think it would have both reader AND Yeosang to calm him down a little bit before and after a scene!

I really don't know what to expect about Yeosang, I guess it would depend on the day? Because I really can't see him as the most well-behaved sub, this man is a TEASE

Sorry for the bad English

so im getting hybrid!!! vibes from this ask,,, hope its okay that thats where i took this! and dont worry hon, your english is fine :) thank you SO much for requesting i had (a little too much) fun with this!!!

this is a long one (oops) so im putting it below the cut!

~

puppy love

your golden retriever, yunho, had you lying against his chest, his large, erect cock pressing into your lower back, warm and leaking. he held your thighs against his, making sure to give yeosang, the doberman at the foot of the bed, an enticing view of your glistening, swollen pussy spread wide. yunho's tail began to wag when yeosang's eyes locked themselves in place over your pussy, taking in every centimeter of your hot, wet skin.

"is she wet?" yunho asked, his ears perked and cheeks flushed.

"mm," the shy puppy responded, nodding his head. his hand was wrapped around his tall, veiny cock but not moving just yet. he was waiting for yunho to pleasure you first, like the obedient boy he was.

meanwhile, your clit throbbed, left painfully alone, and you started to squirm. "yunho," you whimpered, "don't keep mommy waiting. be a good boy." his tail wagged even faster as he turned his attention back to you and the heat between your legs. his long and capable fingers found their way to your clit and he softly rubbed little circles into it, causing you to moan.

yeosang began to pump himself slowly, his eyes shifting between your pleasureful expression and your dripping pussy. meanwhile yunho's focus was fixed on pleasing you. he continued rubbing your clit until you started getting worked up, when he slid two fingers slowly inside your entrance, immediately seeking out your sweet spot like a magnet. you moaned louder and with every thrust you felt something within you getting tighter and tighter.

"wait," you said suddenly. yunho's fingers disappeared. yeosang watched you attentively. "sangie," you cooed, "would you like a turn?" his tail wagged meekly, but he shook his head no. "you don't want to have fun with mommy?" you asked, your surprise evident. yeosang just blushed deeper, his ears sinking back. by this point you were confused. "use your words, honey." "wanna taste mommy," he said, barely above a whisper, his dick twitching at his own words.

you smiled and said, "good boy." then yeosang was between your legs, his face buried in the spot you needed him most. his skillful tongue made easy work of your clit, and he greedily lapped up the juices spilling from your eager hole. meanwhile, yunho's hands had now busied themselves with your breasts, grabbing and kneading large handfuls of plush skin, fingertips tweaking your hardened nipples.

you moaned as you got closer to the edge, "ah, yeosang... yunho..." closer, and closer, and...

it stopped. yeosang fucking stopped. your angry eyes shot down at the mischievous ones between your legs. "yeosang!" you tried to sound stern, but it came out as a whine. "naughty boy, bad dog!" the shit-eating grin on the doberman's face only grew at your scolding, his tail wagging shamelessly side to side. yunho giggled behind you, placing a kiss behind your ear in hopes of calming you down.

without warning, yeosang dove in again, his tongue on your clit and moving faster than before. it took only seconds before you finally came undone, your clit throbbing rhythmically against yeosang's tongue, yunho's arms wrapping around you soothingly. both your boys helped you gently ride the waves of your orgasm, your doberman leaving no drop of your arousal behind as he lapped at your hole.

as your body finally came to relax against yunho, he excitedly slid his hand between your legs again, saying, "come for us again, mommy!"

you gently pulled his hand away as your sensitive body flinched at his touch. "not yet, baby," you said, "mommy needs to relax first. do you boys want a turn?"

you watched yeosang's ears perk up and tail wag at your suggestion. "yes, mommy," yunho cheered, "please, please!"

you instructed yeosang to sit in yunho's lap, which he happily obeyed, yunho giving him a peck on the lips and ruffling his hair lovingly. yeosang blushed at this, biting his lip. both boys gasped when their neglected and sensitive cocks bumped together. a string of their mixed pre-cum kept them connected as they pulled apart, and you moaned at the sight.

"stay like that," you commanded them. their dicks touched again, causing them to twitch, and they stayed pressed together. both men were throbbing, dripping and hot. you could only imagine how good they felt in such a close, intimate position. or how good they were going to feel once you amped it up.

"good boys," you said as you gently wrapped a hand around their cock heads. you kept your grip light as you slid down to the base of their cocks, and tightened as you slid back up. both men began to moan, their bodies stiffening and legs starting to twitch. your grip got progressively stronger as you worked them up, pumping them at a steady pace, pressing their sensitive flesh closer together.

you bent down, licking a stripe over both of their heads, back and forth, until yeosang began to pant. you glanced at him, mouth agape with his tongue hanging out, a bead of drool collecting at the tip. his bangs stuck to his sweaty face and his skin shone a lovely shade of rose. his eyelids were heavy as he stared at the golden retriever across from him.

you took this as your cue to wrap your lips around the tip of yeosang's dick, your hand picking up its pace. you sucked on him hard until his pants turned into breathy moans, and when his hips started to fumble, you released him from your mouth, allowing him to shoot his hot, white seed into the air. it messed his and yunho's cock and abdomen, coating your hand as well.

you dutifully began licking yunho clean, sucking him off the same you did yeosang and now only pumping him. and only seconds later, he followed behind the doberman. his voice was loud and high-pitched as he came, his face flushed and broad chest heaving. yeosang stroked the taller man's cheek lovingly, leaning in to give him a proper kiss as he rode the subsiding waves of his orgasm.

"what good boys i have." you smiled sincerely, your heart feeling warm at the sight of your puppies all fucked out and exhausted, but still caring and sweet. you kissed both of them on their cheeks and said, "let's get cleaned up. who wants a bath?"

[karinab00bs]

can i req for a sumin stayc fic!

A Night to Remember

Sumin x named reader! (i hope u dont mind)

tags: smut, sex, nipple play, (semi?) public sex

”Is this the right road? We’ve been here three times,” Ethan’s words did not sound like a question. The girl who was called just now sighed softly because she didn’t go up the mountain that often. At first, Sumin had refused to join the event for a night of getting closer to each other on the mountain like this because she had no experience. Whether Sumin should be grateful or not because, at least she didn’t get lost alone.

”I don’t know.. This is also my first time.” Sumin could see Ethan’s confused face. Ethan should be able to depend on her being a senior, but unfortunately this time the man who was a year younger than her had to take over.

”Don’t stay away from me; if we get separated, it’s more trouble. I left a trail so that someone could find out that we are here, and please check your cellphone if there is a signal to contact the other student.” Ethan's intonation did not sound patronizing, but Sumin nodded obediently.

The sky was getting darker, darker than usual. Sumin glanced at her watch, and it was still seven o’clock. But somehow it felt like ten already. They should have been resting in the tents by this time and then, half an hour later, gathering around the campfire. But instead, they were lost in the seemingly unfriendly weather.

”Ethan..” called Sumin, and without many words, she held Ethan’s hand, who had just turned his head.

”Your hands are really cold; are you okay? Do you want to use my jacket?” Sumin shook her head slowly. She knew the night was cold, and she didn’t want Ethan to give up the only source of warmth he had for her.

”No, I’m just afraid of getting lost.. Can I hold your hand?” The man nodded, not objecting at all. First, he was also cold; second, Sumin, who was everyone’s crush, was holding his hand. Who would refuse?

”Btw, do you have a tent? I only have a sleeping bag in my backpack because my friend brought a tent.” Sumin had not yet answered. The sound of thunder made the girl jump in place. Ethan approached to hug and calm her. ”It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered softly. But, suddenly, they felt the drops of rain falling; it poured down on the two people, who did not have time to find a place until they were both soaked. Ethan pulled Sumin’s hand under a tree not far from where they were standing just now. It was still raining, but at least the branches and leaves kept them a little protected.

It was cold; Sumin’s whole body was wet from the rain, making her shiver, and she unconsciously heard the chattering of her teeth because it was too cold. Ethan turned to her and held her cold hands, giving them a gentle squeeze and rub to make them at least warmer.

”Ethan, I think the tent is in my backpack. Can you put it on?” Asked Sumin, the man nodded slowly, then unloaded Sumin’s carier. The girl sat huddled against the tree that sheltered them, her body trembling from the cold, making Ethan try his best to be quick in putting up the tent despite the rain that had begun to subside, not as hard as before.

Sumin closed her eyes while trying to hug herself. Then she felt a warm hand on her forehead and then on both cheeks. ”I’m afraid you’re sick; let’s go to the tent. I’ve put up the tent. There’s a sleeping bag, but if you can… ehm… sorry… you can just undress because your clothes is all wet.”

Sumin nodded quickly. ”Thank you, Ethan..” The sentence was replied to with Ethan’s soothing smile, which makes him look more handsome than before.

The rain began to subside, but the drops were still there. Sumin had undone all the threads attached to her body and got into the sleeping bag that Ethan had brought.

Sumin heard a sneeze from outside the tent. Ethan was cold too; she thought, “Ethan..” She called softly, but it was quite audible.

“Why? Your lips are blue for God’s sake.” Without being asked, Ethan entered the tent and helped Sumin lie back down. The man rubbed his palms together and then placed them on Sumin’s neck until warmth spread from there.

Ethan sneezed again, making the girl, who was still shivering, anxious too.

“Ethan.. come here; it’s still cold in here,” Sumin said while holding Ethan’s hand.

“My clothes are all wet; you’ll get cold,” Ethan gently refused.

“Just take off your shirt.” Sumin could see Ethan swallow. “It’s okay.. Come here.”

“If you say so..” Ethan replied that he was actually still full of hesitation, but why not instead of freezing to death?

Sumin bit her lip because she was still shivering, and now, in front of her eyes, she could see Ethan opening one cloth after another on her body. Well, the man was not typical muscular; he was quite skinny because of his height, but he looked proportional. Just look at how the man’s stomach was formed. Damn. Sumin averted her eyes because she didn’t want to look like a pervert.

“Sorry..” Ethan said it again before getting into the sleeping bag. Sumin nodded slowly. Ethan embraced Sumin’s body, which was smaller than his, in a hug. Slowly, Sumin’s felt more warm; she comfortably leaned against Ethan’s broad chest and tried to close her eyes. But suddenly she felt a hard object touching her womanhood. She looked up to look at Ethan’s face, which turned red. “I swear, Sumin, I’m sorry.. It wasn’t on purpose.

“It’s okay.. Maybe because it’s cold,” Sumin replied with red cheeks as well.

“Y-yes.. Obviously.. It was cold, and there was a beautiful naked girl hugging me so.. Sorry..” Sumin buried her face in Ethan’s chest and blushed. “I won’t do anything to you, unless you let me.. So.. If you want me as I want you.. you may.. do something to me.”

Hearing that sentence, Sumin moved and pulled the edge of the sleeping bag up to cover her head. She could hear Ethan laughing and calling her adorable.

Sumin hugged Ethan’s waist again and buried her beautiful face in his neck. There was silence, only gentle strokes on her head and back. Comfortable. Pleasant. But Ethan’s cock is still hard, still standing upright even though Ethan hasn’t spoken for a while, maybe calming down so as not to be carried away by his desire.

Sumin put one leg up around Ethan’s waist, indirectly giving Ethan’s hard cock access to tuck right into her pussy. She could feel Ethan holding his breath.

“Sumin?” called Ethan.

“Mm? It’s cold,” she replied. It was cold, but that wasn’t what Sumin really wanted.

“Do you want to try it?” Not answering, Sumin just gave a small nod, letting Ethan cheer in the day. “I’ll be slow; tell me if you want to stop. I’m not forcing you.”

Feeling he had permission, Ethan’s one hand that had been wrapped around her waist now began to boldly rub Sumin’s thigh and then slowly move her waist up and down, giving a gentle friction to their bodies. Ethan lowered his head to give light kisses on Sumin’s neck and shoulder, then down to her chest and boldly kissed the top of her breast, making Sumin bite her lip while squeezing Ethan’s shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Ethan’s tongue moving around her cold, hardened nipples, and soon sucked gently. A sigh escaped Sumin’s lips when Ethan did the same to her other nipple, but his suction became stronger there.

“Ethan.. ahhh.. mmm..” Sumin couldn’t hold back her sigh because what Ethan was doing to her body was too much for her; just the suction on the top of her chest was making her wet. Damn it, she cursed.

“May I put my dick in?” There was nothing sweeter than that question, and Sumin nodded slowly. And slowly, Ethan makes Sumin lie down while he is on top of her, making Sumin’s face red because now Ethan is looking at her, not like a starving person but with a smile and then a peck on the lips. Crazy, he looks pro in Sumin’s mind; it seems like it is not his first time, but what the hell, Sumin likes his sweet treatment.

Sumin held her breath as Ethan’s slowly entered her, really slowly, and many times Ethan looked at Sumin’s face to see if she was in pain or not. Finally, with a single jerk, Ethan’s entered, fully fitting Sumin’s pussy.

Moans were heard, but out of embarrassment, Sumin immediately hugged Ethan’s body and hid her face, still too embarrassed to be honest that Ethan really made her feel good.

For God’s sake, Sumin also saw the reddish tinge on Ethan’s face, and soon the man began to move his waist slowly, very slowly, as if it might hurt Sumin. “Does it hurt?" He asked softly. Sumin shook her head. “If it hurts, tell me.” After that sentence, Ethan’s waist movements got faster and faster, making his whole body as well as Sumin's warmer.

“A-ahh… Ethan… nghhh…” Sumin’s moans became more uncontrollable; all her shyness and logic were gone; the only thing left was pleasure because Ethan was now stomping on her right at Sumin’s weakest point until she moaned even more crazily.

“Sumin ahh.. mmhh..” Sumin squeezed Ethan’s back, leaving strokes from her nails.

“Ethan.. again.. anghh…” hearing that Ethan precisely stomped on her favorite spot many times, roughly making Sumin look up with both eyes closed.

The man felt impatient; his movements had begun to be less gentle than before but still did not hurt, so Sumin did not protest much, letting the man warm their bodies with this activity.

Sumin’s legs wrapped around Ethan’s waist until Ethan’s went deeper. Making her womanly walls twitch and massage Ethan’s firmly.

Ethan thrust into her again quickly and deeply, making her moan in pleasure even though her back was covered in scratches. In one last stroke, both of them reached their release simultaneously, accompanied by a groan of relief.

”Ethan..” Sumin whispered amidst her unsteady breathing.

”What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Ethan asked while rubbing Sumin’s hair and then kissing her lips once. ”Uh.. sorry, I got carried away..”

Sumin smiled, then one hand tucked behind Ethan’s nape and pushed him closer. She could feel Ethan smiling between their kisses. Sweet. Maybe that’s why Sumin kept sucking Ethan’s lower lip as if it were her favorite candy. While Ethan was busy with Sumin’s upper lip, they deepened the kiss.

”I’ll count to 10 if you two don’t come out of the tent, and I’ll report that both of you are committing perversion on the mountain.”

Sumin and Ethan panicked as they both hurriedly picked up clothes that were not fully dry and put them back on, while in the front, Sieun’s voice was heard counting to five.

”Nine… ten. Come out, or I’ll break the tent.”

Ethan came out in a hurry while putting on his jacket and smiled at Sumin’s classmate.

”Your shirt is backwards, Ethan,” Sieun looking at her friend. Sumin and Ethan exchanged glances, and then both looked down in embarrassment over what had just happened.

[marvelobsessed134]

I’m not that innocent

A/n: Set around the events of Iron Man 2. Instead for Natasha spying on Tony, you will take her place. (Love Nat tho don’t get me wrong). This has been sitting in my drafts for *ehem* about 500 years but here it is :)

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, getting caught (not sexually), degradation, reader goes by a undercover name for a short amount of time, reader doesn’t get to cum lol, and I think that’s it let me know if I forgot anything.

Summary: Tony catches onto your act

This mission was simple enough. Go undercover as Tony Stark’s assistant to collect information on him for Nick Fury. Originally your friend Natasha was supposed to go on this mission but unfortunately she got sick with the flu so Fury asked you to take over.

You were nervous since Tony is a powerful CEO, literally Iron Man, and he’s mega hot. But you knew you had to set aside your personal feelings to successfully get this mission done. The CEO was obviously flirty with you, and you couldn’t help but be a little flustered. Everything was going according to plan until one day.

You were caught bent over in his office, looking through one of his file drawers when you heard a door open, close and lock. A grunt filled the room. You quickly looked up to see non other than your target. Standing there like a deer in the headlights, you just stared back at the older (and albeit larger) man.

“What do you think you’re doing Missy?” Tony asked as he slowly started to stalk towards you. “Just looking for these files that Pepper wanted.” You tried to easily make up a lie.

“That’s interesting because Pepper left early today.” Ah, shit. You are so cooked.

“Oh! Um, sorry must’ve slipped my mind um-“

“What were you doing sifting through my private files?”

Quick, Y/n, say something! Your mind shouted at you. But really, what excuse were you supposed to use now? Especially since he called your bullshit on your first one. Without even having to say anything, Tony spoke up, “I have a feeling you’re not really an assistant. You work for SHIELD is that right?” Okay, how the fuck did he get that spot on?

It must’ve been written all over your face because he said, “Yeah, I’ve had an inkling for awhile. I bet your name isn’t really Holly Brooks. What’s your real one?”

You were too scared and stunned to speak and so the raven haired man lifted your chin with his index finger and said in a lower tone, “I said, what is your real name?”

You gulped, “Y/n. Y/n L/n.”

“That name suits you far better than Holly does. And because you’re so pretty, I’ll let you out of this office and I can forget you ever did anything.” You looked at him with a surprised but hopeful expression.

“But you’re gonna have to earn it, sweetheart.”

“Earn it? How?” You had an idea of what this “earning” would entail and it made your panties damp.

“I think you know what I want.” He said cockily before pushing the file drawer closed and walking to his desk chair before sitting down in a leaning position. “Get on your knees pretty girl.” You were quick to obey, getting on your knees as you looked at him with doe eyes.

“You gonna undo my pants or what? Are too much of a dumb spy to not know how to suck cock?” His degrading words sent you spiraling and you let out a quiet, “Sorry sir.” Before buckling his belt and pulling his pants and boxers down allowing his large cock to spring free. Your eyes widened at the size and the tip already leaking of precum. You did wear a revealing outfit today, a white blouse with the first three buttons undone to show your black lacy bra, and a shirt black pencil skirt with just your matching panties under it. Maybe you were waiting for this moment…

You took his cock in your hand and began to jerk him off before taking the tip in your mouth and sinking down his length. “Oh fuck.” Tony hissed as you began to suck him off, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth. The older man gripped your hair roughly and started to control your movements, using your mouth as his own personal fleshlight.

“Such a slut, you like this don’t you? I know you’ve been waiting for this moment ever since I saw you staring at me a couple times with those fuck me eyes.” He groaned out, enjoying the way tears filled your eyes as you helplessly sat there on your knees being used by him.

“Who knew you were such a good cocksucker? I’m gonna have to keep you around.” His words made your brain short circuit and encouraged you to lick him and help him get to his finish while he was using your mouth.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum. You better take it all or I swear to god-“ The CEO cut himself off when he released his seed into your mouth and down your throat, you swallowed it all and he pulled you off his dick, leaning your head back to look at you. Your mascara was messed up, your face was wet from tears, and your eyes were blissed out.

“Such a pretty girl. Could’ve treated you real nice, taken you out to dinner before I take you home and destroy that little cunt. Too bad you have to be a whore.” His tone was so condescending and somehow that made it better.

“Get up.” Tony commanded and let go of your hair. You stood up and watched him rise as well, taking his blazer jacket off and loosening his tie before unbuttoning his shirt and fully getting rid of his pants. He grabbed you and pushed you against the side of his desk, kissing you hungrily. You kissed him back, hands wandering his sculpted body like it was the best thing you’ve ever put your hands on.

The raven haired man ripped your white shirt open and roughly pulled the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts, letting them pop out effortlessly. He tweaked and played with your nipples, spitting on them, sucking them, making you moan and squeal in the overwhelming sensation.

Then he pulled your skirt up roughly, and cupped your clothed core, “So fucking wet. Just from sucking my dick? Or was it being naughty and getting caught doing something you shouldn’t have been doing? Which is it?”

“Both.” You answered obediently and honestly.

“Fucking slut.” He huffed before ripping your panties off which caused you to gasp but you didn’t have a chance to open your mouth when he turned you around and bent you over as if you were nothing.

He slapped your ass once, twice, three times before lining up his cock to your dripping entrance. As he gripped your hips he slowly pushed in making the two of you moan. Oh god, you thought to yourself, his employees can probably hear this. They think you’re just another one of his conquests. In way, you are.

“Oh fuck! So fucking tight!” Tony growled as he began to thrust and fuck into you faster and harder slapping your ass occasionally. “Such a bad girl, thinking you can tease me all day, make me hard in meetings, just to try and fucking spy on me,” he scoffs, as if the whole situation was pathetic, “but now I have my cock deep your pussy so, at least one of us is winning.” He continued to fuck you senseless, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. You couldn’t hide your moans and cries as the CEO repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Oh god! I’m gonna cum!” You cried.

“Yeah? Do you think you deserve it? After all you did?” Tony grunted.

“Yes! Please let me cum! I’ve been such a good girl so far!” Your cries and pleads were pathetic. You were pathetic, Tony thought. And god was he having the time of his life.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to edge and said, “Yeah, I don’t think so.” And pulled out of you before shooting his cum on your ass.

You whined at the loss of contact and orgasm making him laugh and say, “If you want to cum, you have to let me take you out to dinner. And get rid of any files you might have stolen from me digital and physical copies.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

"Murder is Werewolves" - Batman

I don't got the SPOONS to do this thought train justice, I have seriously been trying to write this thing for MONTHS so just, idk, have this half baked skeletal outline of the essay I guess:

I don't believe that Batman's no-kill rule is primarily about rehabilitation or second chances.

His refusal to believe that Cassandra could have killed someone when she was eight years old because "how could a killer understand my commitment not to kill" is absolute fucking MOON LOGIC from a rehabilitationist standpoint. No jury on the planet would think for even a second that she could reasonably be held accountable for her actions in that situation! Her past cannot condemn her to being incapable of valuing human life under a rehabilitation centering framework. However, Batman's reasoning makes perfect sense if he believes that killing is a spiritually/morally corrupting act which permanently and fundamentally changes a person, and that corruption can never be fully undone.

Dick Grayson killing the Joker is treated both narratively and by Batman as an unequivocally WIN for the Joker. The Joker won by turning Nightwing into a killer. Note that this is during a comic in which the Joker transforming people was a major theme! Batman didn't revive the Joker because the Joker deserved to live; he revived the Joker to lift the burden on Dick.

His appeal to Stephanie when she tried to kill her dad is that she shouldn't ruin her own life. He gives no defense of Cluemaster's actual life. Granted this is a rhetorical strategy moment and should be taken with a generous pinch of salt, but it fits in the pattern.

When Jason becomes a willful killer, he essentially disowns him, never treats him with full trust ever again, and... Well, we can stop here for Bruce's sake. Bottom line is that his actions towards Jason do not lead me to believe that he thinks Jason can become a better person without having his autonomy taken from him, either partially or fully.

The Joker is, for better or worse, the ultimate symbol and vessel of pure, irredeemable evil in DC comics now. He hasn't been just another crook in a long time. He will never get better, he will only get worse. If you take it to be true that the Joker will not or can not rehabilitate, then there's no rehabilitationist argument against killing him.

Batman does not seem to consider it a possibly that he'll rehabilitate. Batman at several points seems to think that the Joker dying in a manner no one could have prevented would be good. Yet Batman fully believes that if he killed the Joker, he himself would become irredeemable.

Batman's own form of justice (putting people into the hospital and then prison) is fucking brutal and clearly not rehabilitative. He disrespects the most basic human rights of all criminals on a regular basis. It is genuinely really, really weird from a rehabilitationist standpoint that his only uncrossable line is killing... But it makes perfect sense if he cares more about not corrupting himself with the act of killing than the actual ethical results of any individual decision to kill or not kill.

In the real world cops are all bastards because they are too violent to criminals, even when that violence doesn't lead to death. Prison is a wildly evil thing to do to another human being, and you don't use it to steal away massive portions of a person's life if your goal is to rehabilitate them. In the comic world, Batman is said to be necessary because the corrupt cops are too nice to criminals and keep letting them out of jail. I don't know how to write a connector sentence there so like I hope you can see why this bothers me so damn much! That's just not forgiveness vibes there Batman!!

I want to make special note here of the transformative aspect. You don't simply commit a single act when you kill, no, you become a killer, like you might become a werewolf.

The narrative supports this a lot!

Why did Supes go evil during Injustice? He killed the Joker. Why did Bruce become the Batman Who Laughs? Bruce killed the Joker. Why was Jason Todd close to becoming a new Joker during Three Jokers? Because he killed people, to include the Joker.

Even if these notions of redemption being impossible aren't the whole of his reasoning (people never have only one reason for doing what they do) it is a distinct through-line pattern in his actions and reasoning, and it is directly at odds with notions of rehabilitation, redemption, and second chances.

So why does he give so many killers second chances?

Firstly because this doesn't apply to all versions of Batman. Some writers explicitly incorporate rehabilitation and forgiveness into his actions. You will be able to provide me with examples of this other through-line pattern if you go looking for them. The nature of comics is to be inconsistent.

Secondly the existence of that other pattern does not negate the existence of this one. People and characters are complex, and perfectly capable of holding two patterns of belief within themselves, even when they conflict to this degree. You can absolutely synthesize these two ideas into a single messy Batman philosophical vibescape.

Finally and most importantly to this essay: he has mercy on killers the same way that werewolf hunters sometimes have mercy on someone who is clearly struggling against their monsterous nature, especially if they were turned in exceptional circumstances or against their will. They understand that they are sick, damned beasts, cursed to always be fighting against themselves and the evil they harbor within. It is vitally kind to help them fight themselves by curtailing their autonomy in helpful ways and providing them with chances to do some good to make up for their eternal moral deficiency.

I think in many comics Batman views killers as lost souls. Battered and tormented monsters who must be pitied and given mercy wherever possible. (The connections to mental health, addiction, and rampant, horrifying ableism towards people struggling with both is unavoidable, but addressing it is sadly outside of the scope of this essay.)

Above all, the greatest care possible must be taken to never, ever let yourself become one of them, because once you have transformed the beast will forever be within you growing stronger.

To Batman, it is the most noble burden, the highest mercy, the most important commandment: Thou shalt suffer the monsters to live.

[ctimenefic]

just had to write this out of my brain, I'm sorry pierresteban lorekeepers if I have fucked up the dynamic, I'll go back to my corner at once

2k of post-Brazil stuff tentatively titled something like slow lane, fast lane, parallel lines

Pierre didn’t pack a podium-worthy outfit for the triple header. Certainly not for Brazil. A party outfit, sure, in case Charles did well – that’s still fucked, a crumpled bundle rank with sweat at the bottom of one of his cases, shipped back home without him two weeks ago after Austin. He hadn’t seen this coming.

No one had seen this coming. 

He has to settle for a creased button up, undone so far the team will be able to see his heart still thudding against his ribs, hours after the last bubbles swirled away into the standing water on the track. It’ll do; he tries to smoulder into the mirror, but he can’t stop smiling. It’s just going to get soaked with sweat anyway, in whatever bar backroom they’ve secured. It was Harriet, he heard, shaking with hope from the moment the red flag came, ringing round Sao Paulo venues with broken Portuguese and her heart in her mouth.

It is strange, being alone for this clutch of minutes, to shower and shave and press cologne against his skin like anointing oil. The team had been all around him the moment he was out of the car, all the way to the hotel. Esteban next to him for hours, hip to hip. Pierre had been warm, despite the rain, the perpetual grey of track and sky.

The shirt is not so white that he’ll look filthy, later, if he’s touched. He undoes another button, just in case. Kiki said, once - if he won, and she wasn’t there. Then it was fine. She’d been joking, maybe, but he hadn’t pressed her. There are many beautiful men and women in Brazil. 

He goes down to the lobby early, already sick of the quiet. He wants the roar back, the force of it against his skin. He wants hands on his back, fingers on his neck, in his hair. Three girls from the team are huddled waiting for a taxi, by the doors, but they hover six inches away now, like without their uniforms he’s unsafe to clasp. Apart, again. 

Pierre drifts away, to the spot where the lobby leaks into a bar and - George Russell is there. As out of place as usual, squinting at his phone, folded up in an armchair that’s too low for him. It turns his knees into a ski slope. He only looks up when Pierre gets right up beside him; then he unbends upright, gets halfway to a handshake before he’s gripping Pierre’s shoulder instead. “Good racing, today,” he announces, like he hadn’t said it hours ago, dripping wet and still horribly sincere, all his natural animosities tucked away.

“Thank you,” Pierre replies, automatic. “I did not think Mercedes were slumming here though?” It is a fine hotel, but not so very nice. The lifts are slow. And Mercedes take up space. They have a sponsor deal, he thinks; some foolish video Charles had sent him last year with a string of emoji. 

Russell snorts. “No. Meeting Alex for our sad bastards dinner.”

Of course. Because for Mercedes, fourth is a disappointment. Which trophy did Russell imagine he’d be snatching today? Pierre’s? Max’s? He hopes Alex charges his meal to Russell’s card. 

“I am going out with the team,” Pierre offers. Immediately feels foolish. He meant- the point was to not invite Russell. It is fun, usually, being rude to him, watching his jaw tic. He is very English about it. 

Now, though, he seems unfazed. His eyebrows jump just a little. “I gathered.” 

His gaze drops briefly down the deep V of Pierre’s shirt. It is perhaps not an achievement with the most notorious homosexual on the grid, but still. There’s some satisfaction to it.

“Where are you- oh!”

The cooldown lap had felt a hundred years long, after an impossibly drawn-out race. Pierre had felt like he could count every drop of spray between his and Este’s cars. 

It is a little like that now, watching Russell’s eyes slide over his shoulder, the way his face changes slowly and utterly. Cheekbones lifted, so his eyes get a little smaller, the start of crows feet at the edges. The top of his face starts smiling before the rest catches up. His shoulders roll too, back and down and open. It happens in a blink, and yet it changes the whole shape of him. Like sunlight through clouds. 

Pierre doesn’t need to look round to guess what he’ll say next. “There he is,” Russell adds, regardless. “Have a good evening, Pierre.” He strides off before Pierre can find the right sniff for such an abrupt dismissal. 

He turns to wave at Alex, but he’s already turned back towards the lift, shoulders up around his ears until Russell slings an arm over them. He hears Russell teasing: “Don’t be a lazybones, Albono, you’re on the fourth floor, we can walk it.”

And then they are gone, and the girls from the team come to collect him for the car, and they are squashed up close enough that he does not have to think about it for too long. Just long enough. 

How many people look at him like sunshine? He had friends like that, once. More than one of them, once.

Tonight, he will say something gracious. Tell Esteban he raced better. That Pierre could not have caught him if he tried. (Perhaps not if he tried. Perhaps that is ungracious. Perhaps he should not remind Esteban that he is the better teammate. That he is keeping the team.) He has a whole taxi ride to find the right words, the olive branch that Esteban will not reject, or discard, or ignore.   

They will hug, and it will not be the last time. The Haas is not so bad; that will help. And ten, or twenty years from now, Pierre can walk into a room somewhere in France, some gathering of old men who raced fast cars, and someone will smile to see him. 

It is twenty minutes to Harriet’s bar. By then he can see it; where in windswept Normandy it will be. Snow on the ground and overcast. He will keep most of his hair, he decides, somewhat against the odds; he gives Esteban a little gut but fewer lines, no jowls. Silver in his stubble, but not his hair. Comfortable shoes. Bracelets on their wrists. 

The bar is good, for a last minute get. The staff on the door know his face, gesture him through. There are beautiful people in clusters, grapes on the vine, ready for picking. And on the dancefloor, Alpine, Alpine, Alpine. In the centre of it, Esteban, tall even there. 

There’s a whoop from near the edge of the throng as someone spots him - one of the pit crew, Marc. It spreads, fast, a sea of heads turning his way, a cheer Pierre thought he might not hear again. They tug him in, hands on his shoulders, back, feet already bouncing, the strange wistful sadness in his stomach already lifting as he raises his hands, shouts with joy and-

Esteban looks across to Pierre and smiles like clouds parting.

---

The carpet in the hotel stairwell has a dizzying pattern, geometric but impossible for the eye to follow. Or perhaps only impossible for someone who has been awake for 24 hours now, staring at it in the half-dark of emergency exit signs. But Pierre has to try, has to trace the thick black lines up and left and down over and over, or the choking gluk sounds Esteban is making round his cock will drive him mad. Tip him over ten seconds into the best-worst blowjob of his life. 

They had taken the stairs because it would be quicker than the ancient lifts. Not quick enough, for Esteban. Despite the risk, Pierre does not want to make up the distance. He wants this to last.  

Esteban pulls off for a moment; his smile is a slice of white in the darkness. Pierre doesn’t mean for his hand to drop to his face, thumb along his bottom lip, down his chin, but it does so anyway. He catches Esteban’s spit on his thumbpad; sucks it into his own mouth. There’s salt to it. 

“You are very wet for me,” Esteban murmurs, matter-of-fact, and Pierre gives up on the carpet, shuts his eyes and lets his head fall back into the corner with a thunk. He has been wet all day, drenched in rain and champagne and sweat. What is one more? He can feel it, the way precome rolls down the underside of his dick to Esteban’s fingers, until Este’s tongue drags back over him, a long side up the inches he cannot fit in his hand. 

(“It’s bigger,” he’d said, and Pierre had failed to hide his smirk. He hadn’t made it up, tripod. And Esteban’s hands are bigger now, too.)

His shirt is undone, bunched at his elbows where hands - some familiar, some strange - had dragged it down to trace the shape of his shoulders, the rise and fall of his arm muscles. He’d tugged it back up in the car back, but not enough to stick, not with Este’s long fingers at his neck. It makes him feel on display now, naked from his thighs up, Esteban’s dark head the only modesty he’s been afforded. 

He’s cold where Esteban had slicked down his happy trail with his tongue. It makes him shiver when Este gets back to bobbing back and forth, and his hair whispers over Pierre’s stomach. He has been touching him all night, never a hand off him, and yet Pierre is still so sensitive to each new collision. He can feel Este grin, smug, around him, like he’s noticed. It doesn’t rankle like it should. 

Esteban divebombs down Pierre’s dick again, and he comes before he can get out a warning, choking on thick air, hot and tight in his lungs. Este surfaces seconds later, cracks Pierre’s mouth open with a finger and thumb on his jaw, and feeds him his come in long, loving licks around his teeth. He’s still got his other hand wrapped around Pierre’s softening dick. As Pierre blinks up at him, stupefied, those clever fingers slide to cup his balls instead. A single digit taps at his taint. 

“Dry here,” Esteban muses. Pierre’s mouth falls open, panting. He thinks his come must still be gleaming on his tongue. He can still taste it. “We can fix that.”

And then there is light, crashing through the dark, as the door to the stairwell on the floor above opens, and the perpetual glow of the corridor shines through. Pierre clutches Este to him like cover. The bastard still has all his clothes on, at least, even if Pierre’s bare thighs are obvious either side of his too-skinny frame. 

The shaft of light falls a little to their left, not quite a spotlight. Perhaps they will not be noticed. Perhaps there is still enough luck for one more miracle. 

Soft steps, on the stairs. And then-

“Fuck,” someone hisses from above them. 

Not someone. Familiar. Far too English. 

Someone who should not be in the stairwell of the Williams team hotel at 4am. But. Pierre is in no position to throw stones. His stones are still in Esteban’s large, warm hand. 

Esteban is being no help. He snickers into Pierre’s neck for a moment, so lightly his lips barely leave his skin. Then: “Take the lift, George,” he calls, apparently deciding plausible deniability is for other motherfuckers. 

His voice is a little rough. Well-used. 

Russell, at least, understands how to play the game. It is silent, except for the hurried steps up and away. The whine of the door. 

“Shit,” Pierre groans. Esteban’s finger presses again at the space between his arse and his balls. “Shit,” Pierre says again. It echoes differently. Higher. 

Esteban is snickering again. “Always so dramatic,” he chides. But his hands are gentle as he pulls Pierre’s slacks back up his legs; does up precisely one button on his shirt and slides his palms down the sides like that will make him presentable for the CCTV in the corridor. “Come on, two floors more to mine. I shall have to fuck you in the morning, you are too spooked now.” 

Pierre doesn’t like the needy sound he makes; Esteban’s eyes gleam. He won’t beg for it, but: “When is your flight?” Pierre’s is late, commercial. They book different flights, more often than not. Esteban’s gaze wavers for a second. But only down to Pierre’s mouth, his navel, and back up. 

“The same. It is the same. I asked- said to change it. After. At the track.” Este must bite his lip – his bottom teeth disappear for a moment. Pierre wants the light back, wants to see his face. “We were-” he says the rest with his hands, palm to palm, parallel – two cars moving in sync around a curve. “And in the cooldown. You smiled at me.”

“I smiled?”

Este huffs. It is just enough like his cruel silences to make Pierre feel alert again, hands twitching to grasp a wheel he cannot see.  “I cannot change it back. It will be sorted by now.” 

There is an inch between them that has not been there all night. Esteban’s weight shifts, like he means to step back further. Pierre has to lunge for him, cram their mouths together. They had not done this at the bar. Touching, yes, everywhere they could get away with, but this was different. Private. 

Este whines a little into the kiss. His fingers get grabby again.

“Fuck me now, and later,” Pierre demands against his mouth. Esteban nods; in the dark his lips leave a smear against Pierre’s temple. 

His echo sounds like a promise. “Now and later.” 

[koocycle]

over wine | jjk | teaser part one

↳ 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

teaser word count. 2k

estimated word count. 35k+

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

teaser warnings. mild cursing, suggestive and mature themes

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

series masterlist

released on thursday, july 6th 2023.

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 take 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 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.

full version, date of release july 6th 2023.

taglist: @codeinebelle @cxcotin @hrts4kook

please send me an ask to be added to the list.

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Sexting, Cregan Stark, teasing, f masturbation.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Hello angels! Thanks for waiting for the next chapter so patiently hehe, it is a long chapter because I refuse to cut it down or split it lmao. Also, the cafe story happened to me LOL, bastards owe me so much money... Anyway, I hope you enjoy! <3

Chapter 3: Cregan Stark

Things with Cregan Stark started off with a casual one night stand.

It was raw, it was heated, and exactly what you needed. You had fully expected for you to never see him again, going back to your daily routine without a thought spared. But when you had gotten another text from Cregan a few days later, the two of you hit it off. 

Things were easy.

Casual. 

Simple. 

You liked the simplicity of it all. You needed something that had no strings attached after your previous ex; an absolute nightmare of a man who whored himself out and would then try to flip the blame you. You don’t even know what you saw in that man. The tipping point was finding him in bed with his now girlfriend, Johanna. And even then, he tried to blame you for coming home early.

But Cregan was different. 

He was great at communicating, and a complete change to Jason Lannister. Where Jason was blonde, Cregan was a dark brunette. Where Jason had deep blue eyes, Cregan’s were grey, like a winter storm.

Cregan treated you like a human being, with autonomy and respect, and let you take the lead on what you wanted.

When you needed to feel someone between your legs, he would be at your house faster than you could Winterfell. And as much as you would have wanted him to come over, you couldn’t do that to Aemond on his first night in. 

You texted Cregan back, telling him that he couldn’t come around that night, and explained  the situation. 

You laughed softly at his response, deciding to tease him. 

Panic began to settle in your chest as you read those three fateful words.

Cregan couldn’t come here.

Not with Aemond only just settling in. You texted him back, with no response coming in on his end. You held your phone in your fist looking down at the chat, frantically texting him three more times, desperate for a response. 

Your heart raced in your chest as you waited for him to respond.

What would Aemond say?

What would he think?

You couldn’t just bring over a man on the first night of him staying there. Especially with him already being so uptight. You knew that Alicent was a devout follower of the Seven, what if Aemond was the same?

You stared down at your phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you were about to fire off another frantic text. 

Soon, three little grey dots appeared on your screen, and your breath held in your throat. 

You blushed, warmth settling in your core.

Cregan, whilst he was kind and gentle, wasn’t always soft in bed, and had a way of making you putty in his hands. He had this air of dominance that surrounded him, most likely helped by his towering frame. 

Sometimes you would push your luck, prodding him to react, and at those times he would swiftly bend you over his knee and land his hand across the sensitive flesh of your cheeks, bringing you to your peak until you couldn’t anymore. And then after, the sweetness that you had come to know of Cregan would come back. 

But for the majority of the time, Cregan was a more attentive, sweet lover. He only became rough when you truly pushed him to it, otherwise he was content to fuck you slowly, sensually and watch you come undone beneath him.

Looking back down at your phone, you sent off a cheeky response.

You loved that the two of you could have such an arrangement. No strings attached, casual, and comfortable enough for the two of you to simply spend time in each others company without the need of anything sexual. 

Helaena had tried to say that it was a situationship, but that implied that there were feelings involved, and as far as you were concerned, there was none on either end.

You watched as three grey dots appeared on the screen. 

Your cheeks felt hot as you stared at your phone.

Cregan really knew you all too well, and although it had taken a while for the two of you to adjust and get to know each other, it was well worth it for this.

You jumped up from your spot on the couch, core tingling and went to bed, your heart fluttering in anticipation as you settled into your sheets. This wasn’t the first time Cregan had told you or guided you through some play when he wasn’t there. 

A phone call here or there, voice notes on occasion, and more frequently, little text commands that seemingly came out of nowhere.

You loved it.

Reaching into your side table you pulled out your favourite vibrator, a small pink bunny shaped vibe that you could insert as well. Stripping your shirt over your head, you pulled down your shorts and underwear, kicking them away from the bed. 

Texting Cregan back, you asked what you should do, acting dumb and coy to rile him up, but all he sent was a one worded response.

 

Pressing the vibrator against you, you let the vibrations pass up through your body, the sudden spark causing your back to jolt up off of the mattress. You breathed heavily as pleasure began to whirl its way through your body. 

You panted as you thought of Cregan above you, large hands pushing their way inside of you, touching you, grabbing you. Pleasure wound its way up through your gut, winding it tightly, a coil ready to snap.

A small moan flitted out of your lips and you clamped a hand tightly to your mouth. Aemond was just across the hall. Fuck. You needed to be quiet.

Your teeth bit down on the back of your hand to muffle any sounds that you would make, but the idea of him hearing you sparked a sudden burst of pleasure through you, triggering your orgasm. 

Your back arched off of the bed as you whined quietly into the room, eyes scrunched shut as warm spread through your limbs.

Soon the vibrations became too much and you tossed the vibe on the opposite side of the bed as you came down from your high, chest rising and falling lazily.

Reaching for your phone, you texted Cregan that you had done what he had told you to do, smiling lazily at your phone as you waited for him to respond. 

He sent a quick, 'Good girl' response which was shortly followed by a 'Go to sleep xx'.

The text made your core clench and a small moan escaped from your lips, grinning at the praise. You texted him goodnight before setting your alarms for the morning. You rolled over in bed, the nervous energy having slipped away from your body and the warm buzz of your orgasm pull you down into a gentle sleep.

-

The loud beeping of your alarm jerked you from your sleep.

You groaned, turning to hit the snooze button on your phone as you rolled onto your back, staring up at the roof as you sighed. You blinked sluggishly at the ceiling medallion until the snoozed alarm blared loudly at you again. 

You dragged yourself from your sheets, pulling on your clothes for work, limbs feeling heavy as you worked them into some high waisted suit pants that made your ass look great.

Slowly but surely, you made your way out of your room and to the bathroom to put some makeup on and do your hair.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, hair atop your head in a rats nest, sleep in your eyes and fatigue in your features. You sighed and got to work, quickly making yourself presentable before getting ready to leave. 

When you exited the bathroom, you noted that Aemond’s door was open, and when you peaked inside, Helaena’s bed was already made. You looked down the hall as you began to make your way to the kitchen, hoping that he was just an early riser, and that the alarm hadn’t jerked him from his sleep.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you entered the lounge room and kitchen, with Aemond nowhere to be found. You put the kettle on to make yourself a cup of tea to help you wake up, leaning against the cabinets lazily. 

You really didn’t want to go to work today.

You almost dreaded it every time.

Whilst the pay was good, amazing even, and the work was not too stressful, Larys was a certified pain in yours and everyone else’s ass. You didn’t know what Alicent saw in him, or why she had made him COO over Rhaenyra.

Though you supposed that’s why the company had split apart.

Daemon and Rhaenyra took their best lawyers with them, the firm being flipped upside down by the sudden and brutal change. The pair were a force to be reckoned with, a true power couple, and if you were being honest, you were in awe of them.

The odds were against them when they split from Viserys’ legacy, but were quick to gather their support from loyal coworkers, starting from the ground up.

Making quick work of it, ‘Perzys Ānogār Legal’ (Blood and Fire) became rivals with ‘Red Keep Law’.

You drained your cup of tea, putting the mug in the washer before grabbing your bag and getting ready to leave. Helaena’s keys gone from the bowl, an even bigger confirmation of Aemond’s absence. You wondered where he went.

The gym maybe? A walk? Coffee? The possibilities were endless.

You had walked to the nearby train station and made your train by a mere second before the door closed shut. And by the time you had gotten to the office, you had made it on time, if not five minutes early to begin your eight hour shift. 

Working at a law firm had its perks.

Everything was done by the books, which ensured that you were being paid a fair, and if you were being honest, decent wage, unlike the cafe you had worked at for years, who turned out was not paying any of the staff the correct wages, and refused to disclose the payslips, stating their accountants had lost them.

The payslips never existed. 

You typed away at your desk, grabbing a cup of tea from the break room and a piece of fruit as you sorted through Gwayne Hightower’s schedule for the day, answering any emails that he received and forwarding them onto him. The next was Larys Strong’s, until the day flew by as you slogged away behind your desk doing menial tasks. 

The clock ticked loudly on the wall as you watched it finally click over to 5:00pm. As soon as the hand hit the five, you exited all of the windows you had open, and shut down your computer, moving to stand. 

You felt the presence of someone behind you and breathed in a sigh, as you immediately knew who it was.

“Running off?” Larys Strong mused, looking at the turned off monitor and bag you had slung over your shoulder. 

“You don’t pay me for off the clock hours, and as of now, I am off the clock.” You smiled sweetly.

Your boss smiled back in a way a shark would to its prey, “We love a staffer dedicated to their work.”

“That’s why I joined the union. I am dedicated to fairness and upholding our rights as workers in this firm. See you tomorrow, Larys.” You turned away from him, walking to the elevators. 

When you turned around, the thin, brunette man was still standing at your desk watching you, and as the doors closed, you could have sworn his eyes flitted down your legs to your feet again. 

Ew.

When you had gotten on the train, you checked your phone, sending a quick text to Helaena to see how she was doing. She responded almost immediately, saying she was fine and hungry, but that she was going out for dinner with Daeron tonight before they would both depart together to Kings Landing in the morning. You asked for pictures of the food and talked pointlessly until you got home. 

Arriving back at the flat, you found it quiet and empty, a definite change to the apartment bursting with life when you came home to Helaena. She was always either playing music, had a show on, or was talking or singing to herself. There was never not noise in the flat, and without it, it seemed to drain the life from the walls.

Though you supposed that it would be quiet, what with Aemond’s lack of conversational skills. 

Come to think of it, was it lack of skills, or lack of want? Maybe he didn’t wish to speak to you. Maybe, he was rude. You would find out soon enough, but in the present moment, it felt like the latter.

You called out to your best friends brother, wondering if the silver haired Targaryen was somewhere, hiding in the shadows, and when no reply came back, you dropped the thought all together. 

Kicking your shoes off you dropped your keys into the little dish by the door and made your way inside, dumping your bag on the dining room table. You stretched up on your tiptoes, letting a small groan fall from your lips as you trudged to your room.

Digging through your cupboard you grabbed a pair of pyjamas and made your way to the bathroom to shower. You had turned the water on when you realised you didn’t have the speaker with you, so running from the bathroom you went to the kitchen where it last was. 

Grabbing it, you ran back to the shower and put your phone on shuffle, music pouring out of the speakers as you finally delved beneath the steaming spray. You let the water wash away the stress of the day and sighed, cracking your neck as you tilted your head backwards, letting the water wet your face so that you could wash it. 

The shower was large, and the faucets were the original brass that they would have been when the flat was made. And whilst at times the water could take some time to heat up, there was no denying that the water pressure was perfect. 

You stayed in there for a while before turning off the shower, singing until your heart was content as you moisturised, steam filling the room. After getting dressed, you made your way to go back to your room, grabbing your phone and speaker along with your dirty clothes. 

The sun had now set, and the blanket of night settled across Kings Landing.

Usually Helaena would be in your room on your bed, laying on her back or stomach whilst on her phone, watching videos or documentaries and waiting to ask you about your day. It was disappointment to not see her where she usually was.

Despite the music coming out of your speakers, and the soft whispering of the words from your lips, the apartment still felt quiet, empty. Desolate.

You left your room, deciding it was time to make some dinner. The lights in the apartment were off, and so you flicked on the various lamps and lights that were scattered in the apartment, staying true to the ‘No Big Light’ rule that you and Helaena had set, insisting upon the warm glow of multiple light sources instead. 

Grabbing the sauce from the fridge, you wondered where Aemond was again.

Would he be gone all night? Should you be expecting him?

Opening the Tupperware you realised there was only enough for one more serving of pasta, and deciding that you didn’t know where her brother was, or when he would be back, you claimed first dibs and began to boil some water to cook the pasta.

Grabbing your phone, you flicked off a text to Aemond, asking if he would be home for dinner, before setting your phone back down and deciding to call Helaena. You put the phone on loudspeaker as you moved around the kitchen, listening to the ringing before her chirpy voice flitted through the speaker.

“Dōna Y/n.” Sweet, Her voice sang, Valyrian accent on her tongue.

You grinned down at the phone as you stirred the pasta, “Hey Baby Bug. I miss you!”

“Aw, I miss you too! I’m here with Daeron. Say hi.”

Daeron’s smooth voice popped over Helaena’s, “Hey girl.”

“How are you?” You leant against the cabinets, phone up to your face.

“I’m good, it’s been a while.” Daeron replied, you could hear Helaena whining in the background for the phone, “Heard my brother is there with you.”

You laughed, “He’s not here right now, so I can’t give him the phone to say hey.” You explained, looking into the bare apartment.

Daeron chuckled, and it reminded you of Helaena’s soft laugh, “Wouldn’t get much but a grunt out of him anyway.”

“Where is he?” Helaena asked, the speaker of the phone muffling as she grabbed it out of her youngest brothers hand.

You checked your phone for any notifications of his reply. 

None.

“Dunno. He was gone this morning and hasn’t come back yet.” You sighed, stirring the pasta.

“Are you being nice?”

“Hel, I'm not being not nice. We shared I think maybe twenty words to each other last night.”

“20?" Daeron chirped, "That’s a new record.”

“Fuck off, Daer.” His sister griped, “That’s good,” She spoke into the speaker towards you, “He will warm up to you soon, and you can talk History, and Politics, and Poetry until your hearts content.”

You frowned at your phone, “Poetry? Hel, I didn’t say anything about that. Did he talk to you?” Suspicion in your voice. 

“You’re in trouble.” Daeron sang, and you heard a loud smacking sound, followed by an ‘ouch’.

“I called him this morning to make sure he was playing nice.” Helaena explained, though her tone sounded sheepish, “I don’t need to come home to a dead brother and roommate.”

You snorted into the phone, “No murder in the house if one member isn’t present. Unless he’s hiding around in the shadows.” Your eyes lifted to the apartment, scanning the lounge/dining room.

“Hows Cregan going?” The youngest Targaryen asked, intrigue in his tone.

“Hel, you snitch.”

“I did nothing!”

You put the phone on the counter and stirred the pasta roughly with a fork, “He’s good. Strictly casual, though. Sex is great, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Details, details!” Daeron chanted excitedly, Helaena squealing in the back even though she already knew the details, and had actually heard the action on one or more occasion, much to your embarrassment, and her delight to tease you.

“Great sex. Great dick. Great body. Treats me like a human being.”

“Bare minimum.” Daeron and Helaena chanted at the same time.

“He actually texted me last night.”

“What did he say?” Helaena grabbed the phone, Daeron cursing his sister in the background.

“Wanted to come over.”

“Did you let him?”

“Hel, no. Aemond has only just got here. I can’t just bring Cregan over on his first night in.”

“Scandalous.” Daeron snickered.

“Shut up, you. Like you can talk.” Helaena argued, “What about when mum caught you with Kermit Tully?”

A gasp came from the other end of the phone, and you screamed. 

“Kermit Tully?” You said in disbelief, “You fucked Kermy?! Sweet baby Kermy? Red headed, soft natured, Kermy?”

“He wasn’t soft, I can tell you that much.” Daeron smirked.

You and Helaena both squealed.

“Oh my god. Now I want details!” You giggled, straining the pasta.

“Come to the Keep with us and I will give you all the juicy story of my long, hard, rough, night with the Kermit Tully.”

Putting your pasta in a bowl, you poured the sauce over the top, “Okay, well now I might have to come join you. But I don’t want to intrude with your fam.”

“Nonsense, you are family!” Helaena said lovingly.

“Naw, you lil cutie.” You grinned at your phone, carrying it over to the couch, “Don’t speak too soon though, I'm going to have to love you and leave you, I gotta eat my dinner.”

Daeron huffed, “Oh, so you just wanted the tea and now you’re going to leave us.”

“Yep!” You smirked, “I love you both, and bloody hell Helaena, FaceTime me this week. I’m having Targaryen withdrawals.”

“Just look at my brother and you’ll be fine.”

“Fuck off.”

“Love you!"

“Love you. Bye!"

“Bye, scuttle bug.”

The line ended and you put your phone down, turning the tv on with a flick and settling into the cushions with your bowl in your lap. Dance Moms played as you ate the pasta, with still no sign of Aemond. You checked your phone again.

He had left you on read. 

Dick.

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