#these are the moments i want to hold onto they are prove that life can be good that life can be worth something <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dogearedheart]

I am so bad at being casual about anything

[quimichi]

... [ADOPTING A YUMKASAUR] ◌ೄ

KINICH X READER

Kinich lets his eyes drift from the Yumkasaurs to your face. He watches you as you watch them, mesmerized all over again.  This seems to be a habit with you— becoming enraptured with the most mundane things. It is almost endearing.

Almost.

He glances to the side as a butterfly lands on a nearby branch, wondering idly how many days would pass before you noticed its presence. Kinich can't help himself, not really, and slowly, quietly, he moves closer to you. He shifts closer to sit by your side, watching your face as the Yumkasaurs hop around in the small clearing.

Kinich lets out a small sigh of resignation as he sits down next to you. "You are aware," he starts, "that they won't do anything other than jump for… probably the rest of the afternoon?" "Cute..." you mutter, you're amazed by them every time, they feel surreal. Kinich lets out a dry laugh as his eyes watch the Yumkasaurs.

"Of course you would think they're cute," he says, tone light with amusement as he continues to watch the creatures. "They're just hopping." He deadpans. As though to prove his point, one of the Yumkasaurs trips over its own paws and falls flat on its side. It stays there for a moment before it rolls over onto its back and blinks at the two of you with those wide-eyed stares of theirs. Kinich stares at it, amused. "...you're not going to say it's adorable are you?" Kinich asks, glancing down to look at you beside him.

"Please tell me you're not going to tell me it's adorable because it's on its back," he says, his tone just as dry as it was before.

"Kiniiiich, please! I wanna have one!" you say excitedly as you shake him. Kinich sighs, watching as you shake his arm. "Of course you want one," he mutters. "You want every creature you see."

He tries to look stern, staring at you with a frown, but the corners of his lips are fighting off a smile he's trying to suppress. He sighs again, the smile on his face slowly becoming more obvious as he watches you. You're staring at him now, eyes wide and hopeful.

"You can have one."

He says it as a compromise, though he knows you'll have an entire swarm of the things before the day is out. His words bring a bright smile to your face, and he lets you drag him to his feet as you start toward the one Yumkasaur still lying on its back on the grass. "One," he says again. "One." He emphasizes the word, knowing you are likely to ignore him.

The smallest of the group had been left behind while its companions had escaped into the brush. It's lying on its back, legs wiggling awkwardly. The two of you watch it in silence for a moment, before eventually Kinich lets out a heavy sigh and goes to scoop it up.

"Does it...have a mother?" you carefully ask, surely they didn't left it behind...right? The Yumkasaur makes a small noise as Kinich holds it against his chest. It curls into him, seeking out his body heat. He turns his gaze to look around, checking to see if he can spot any sign of its mother nearby.

"No," he says, shaking his head slowly. "It's probably been abandoned. "From the corner of his eye, Kinich notices you watching the Yumkbasaur, a small smile playing on your lips. He lets out a little sigh, knowing that this is a fight he won't win.

"If you're going to take it with you," he says, shifting it in his arms to get a better hold of it, "at least give it a name. I am not calling it 'the Yumkasaur' for the rest of its life."

"I'll name it...."

[taegularities]

colour me in: the starry night | jjk (m)

Summary: You anticipated the trip to Jungkook's hometown with a thrilled yet nervous heart – and upon your arrival, your emotions prove justified: because as the days pass, you realise that gentle joy awaits just as much as ancient pain.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; angst, fluuuuuff, smut ➳ warnings: fluff fluff fluffluffulfufluf, flirting, daddy issues, arguments with his father, his dad is pretty much an ass and almost as bad as oc's mom, but his mom and brother are <3, ria <3, oc being a light in the dark, oc learns many new things, cursing, fighting, a lot of crying/tears, neglect, mental breakdown, panic and anxiety, anger, insecurities, too many mentions of nostalgia lmao, jealousy, mention of therapy, nara, christian yu lmAO, WEDDING TIME!!!, oc is so pretty (that jk loses it), alcohol/drunk stuff, more confrontations, making up, he loves loves loves her, childhood coping mechanisms; explicit sexual content: kissing, making out, oral (f. & m. receiving), teasing, eating out against the wall, bit of wall sex, drunk sex, manhandling omg, impatient koo, big dick!jk, dom!jk but this timeeee also sub!jk lowkey!!, tears of pleasure, masturbation, fingering, handjob for a bit, squirting, creampie, literally their orgasms are a MESS phew it's kinda hot lmao, moany/whiny/super turned on jk; no 'the ending' warning this time… just the whole chapter 🥺 ➳ word count: 45.9k lmfao pls do still read it tho ➳ a/n: this was supposed to be 30k i can just never shut up lol sorry <3 but this chapter honestly got me good. i cried sm writing it and i love them and i never want this story to end :') i hope you love it, too. thank you for supporting me at all times <3 i can't wait to hear what you think 🤍 ➳ listen to: dance me to the end of love by the civil wars (alt. version) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s going to be okay — Jungkook’s hand gently clasping your thigh wants to convince you of this, you know.

But you can’t deny that the presence of the family you so long awaited is affecting you — your pulse is quickening to a heavily uncomfortable pace. You know his mom; you don’t fear his brother; but his father… his eyes are inscrutable.

They scare you to no end. There he is; the power continuously shattering your boyfriend’s heart. And Jungkook must be well conscious of your distress; because a mere moment later, he of all people, the one who's supposed to seek comfort, says—

“Angel? Breathe.”

Your eyes swerve to the side and remember to blink; you only now feel that you're jabbing crescent moons into your palm, just when you realise the sharp impact. You uncurl your fingers and nod, letting him cover the faintly scarred skin with his hand.

Sighing, you ask, “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he says, nodding, as if he’s practised and polished this answer over the years, “nervous, but… it’ll be okay.”

“Yes… I know.”

“Let’s go?”

You pull the handles on your respective sides at the same time, setting foot onto the stranger soil for the very first second in your life. You can’t quite discern your gut feeling right now, but you hope it’s not the last.

Waiting next to the car, you watch Jungkook round the vehicle, squinting your eyes; the noon sun is burning right above you. He heaves the suitcases with a faint groan and you join him right away to fetch the rucksack you brought.

Holding it between your knees, you flash his family a smile and a slight wave, awkward and unsure about what to do until his mother steps down the porch and towards you. She’s elated, and you see the same sprinkle in her eyes as in her son’s when she closes in enough for an embrace.

Her arms are comforting around you; somehow, you’re startled by it. Takes you a second to reciprocate the hug, hopefully not long enough for her to question your receptiveness. But then you put your chin on her shoulder, shutting your eyes for the briefest of seconds until you open them to a side hug between Jungkook and his brother.

In the slowly cooling weather, she feels warm, a motherly love that blasts heat to your cheeks until she lets go. “Finally a woman, huh?” she breathes, her voice so sweet and kind. “A great alternative to all the testosterone.”

“I can imagine,” you respond; the thought isn’t too much of a stranger to you. “I spent most of the week amongst men. They’re barbarians.”

She laughs, just in the moment that Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother advances towards you. He offers you his hand and a radiant smile that resembles your boyfriend’s. In fact, he does look quite a bit like his younger sibling. Lopsided smirk, fluffy dark hair, handsome features.

Not a lot older. Kind as he greets you with a, “Miss Novaura herself, yes?”

The name makes you beam, inundates you with pride. You appreciate that he doesn’t revert to Charmante as most people have done throughout your life, but sees you as what you are and what you do now. The manager of Novaura, damn it.

Yes.

Has he been keeping up with stuff?

“And Miss Novaura meets the second Jeon himself!” you respond, but as he grimaces, you bite your tongue immediately. What did you say?

“When,” he starts, overly dramatic, a little like Jungkook, yet somewhat more extroverted, “was I demoted to the second Jeon?”

“Oh, I’m…”

Jungkook clicks his tongue from the side, shoving his brother aside in the most sibling-like manner you can possibly imagine. Then, he threatens, “Don’t do this, or I’ll take her away from you guys again.”

“What’s that mean?” you ask.

“It means,” Junghyun interjects, “that everyone’s been dying to meet you. Mom and I even told Jungkook not to spill too much about you, so we can see ourselves.”

Oh, the pressure. The nervousness from the past couple of weeks skyrockets. Yet, your charming self conjures, “Then I hope I don’t disappoint.”

Jeon Junghyun speaks on, babbling something reassuring that you’re certain could warm your chest if you had the capacity to listen. But you drift off quickly as the side of your eyes follows a movement in the back: Jungkook timidly, almost fearfully nearing his father.

You’re alarmed and you can’t tell why — perhaps because you don’t truly know their situation yet. You haven’t seen them interact. But at this very moment, you’re surprised when Jungkook and his dad share a light side hug, too.

The occurrence is frigid, but somehow, you expected even more frozen behaviour. Rare glances, absolute ignorance. Your mind envisioned a world that harboured true enmity, but you don’t think that’s quite what these two have been maintaining over the years.

In some sense, it’s worse.

Because rather than pure silence, there’s a deep distance that is still disguised as a surface level of closeness in a family. Faking it might just be more difficult after all.

There’s no conversation between them. Nothing much as Jungkook comes back to his mother to give her a warm, genuine hug, a rainbow to a drizzle in comparison. As if to receive what his father didn’t provide.

You follow.

You’re not entirely keen on a too affectionate interaction between his dad and you, but you still smile when he lifts his hand, shaking it kindly. From here, as the corners of his lips raise, wrinkles around his eyes that he passed onto his next generation, he looks like a terribly nice man.

He gestures into the house and you follow, listening as he asks, “Was the journey okay?”

You nod joyfully, mustering up all kindness for somebody you know hurt someone you love for so long. After all, Jungkook has done the same for you, no matter how many times your mother shattered you.

And in the end, it’s still his dad.

“Oh, yes, pretty pleasant,” you answer, clearing your throat when you hear the formal tone in your voice. “We took turns driving. And since I fell asleep, I guess I can still seize the rest of the day… if you want to?”

You turn to Jungkook as the sentence fades out and he nods with raised, stirred eyebrows. “Yeah! It’s what we’re here for.”

His father smiles, a flat hand signalling towards the living room to invite you to rest for now. Matters seem normal so far; for a moment, you allow yourself to believe he isn’t so neglectful after all. Even with all your trust in Jungkook, you try to imagine a scenario in which he perceived his father’s distaste as something wrong.

You’re incorrect.

It doesn’t require more than a couple minutes and a bit more mingling until you recognise amidst the smalltalk that he doesn’t behave the same with his younger son as he does with Junghyun. There’s lightness in the way he converses with the latter.

Jungkook only moves around you and his mother; no particular intention to really connect with his dad. Understandably so. Their gazes barely meet.

Not even when his father’s tone drops as he approaches Jungkook, uttering a seemingly obligatory, “You alright? Is the job good?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook merely responds.

The interaction is awkward and quiet, yet too noisy for the lovely room. You focus on the homely furniture and small-town-vibed interior as you wait for the brief dialogue to conclude. You’re not at a place to intervene yet.

There are pictures of the family, yet fresher if you could judge. The ones showcasing memories are probably somewhere you can’t see yet; you’re buzzing to finally skim through his childhood pictures.

You listen in. Quiet again, conversation already at an end.

Jungkook’s fingertips graze yours, giving a short head tilt, wondering what you’re thinking about. His beam is different when he looks at you now, a much more blissful alternative to the timid words he voiced just a couple seconds ago.

But you can’t really answer when his mother emerges in the room to wave you towards the kitchen, eager to converse, yet suggesting, “If you want, you can freshen up before dinner.”

But you reject the idea kindly, flashing your best smile as you respond, “I’m excited to be here, so we can just talk a little for now. I’ll go wash my face after dinner!”

She nods slowly, politely, a the-guest-is-king-sort of gesture before you add, “How have you been?”

The family joins at the dinner table one by one; nobody interferes or barges into another’s turn. Only listens. You’re used to chaos from events and parties you used to attend, everybody dying to have the last word, to outsmart another.

This family is as patient at a conversation as you’ve witnessed in your boyfriend. They’re lively, interested; maybe there’ll be more of an ecstatic family tumult when you get used to them or when more people join. At the wedding, probably.

You’ve seen something like that with your friends, too. Especially on this vacation. You did fall into disorder quite often.

Yet, it differs from your usual experience. No discomfort. No fear of odd questions.

The Jeons aren’t out to reveal your little secrets, but to understand you as a person; so you appreciate the natural flow of the dialogue when Jungkook’s mother answers, “Just tired. The wedding preparations are tedious, and it’ll probably only get worse.”

“Yeah? You’ve been helping out a lot, yes?”

“Yes, somewhat. The bride… Gayoung, she’s close with us and relies on us a lot. And on top of that,” she shakes her head at this point; rolls her eyes as she turns on the stove, stirring and heating up some meal, “she’s getting cold feet.”

“Oh man,” Jungkook adds, chuckling a little, unsurprised, “wedding is definitely on, though. She always gets nervous. Almost missed her first day at work years ago,” he turns to you, “she’s a vet, and she was terrified of hurting the pets, but… everybody trusts her with their pets’ lives now.”

“Awh,” you voice, “I can imagine how stressful that must be. I’m pretty good at managing stuff, though, so if you need any help—”

“No way, you’re not here to work. You can do something else?” His mother looks over her shoulder, pondering. “Paint?”

“Oh, I do paint sometimes, but I’m not very good at it.”

“She is,” Jungkook argues, hand lifting to rub your back, “but she’s an even better writer.”

His father chimes in, arms folded, “Oh, I think you can get a ton of inspiration here, then. There’s a flower field nearby if you’re interes— what?”

Stopping when Jungkook interrupts with an exhale, he tilts his head at his son, and you follow his gaze, watching thick eyebrows kiss. “I already took care of that, but… way to spoil a surprise.”

Ah. You see the hostility increase with each second. You wish you could diffuse the moment; tell Jungkook to ignore everything that might irk him.

Instead, you only sneak your palm to his knee, imitating his rub to calm his nerves. He must be tense. He always must be.

“I wasn’t spoiling,” his father argues, “was just an idea.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you intervene, patting Jungkook’s thigh. He looks at you just briefly, but it suffices for some of his muscles to relax. “I don’t know much anyway. Spoiler-free zone!”

It’s the best you can do. So you keep trying; diverge the topic to other aspects of your life when Junghyun asks about your job and the efforts connected to it. About the joys and hardships of it. About how your parents are doing — burdensome topic, yet a must to master. 

Then they speak about the passage of time in the city, and how it compares to this place; how the family perceived the differences and how their current life differs from their past here.

You learn that they still feel more connected to their hometown; obvious when considering the fact that they spent most of their years here. Initially uncertain about moving, they still decided to be closer to their children and the world’s opportunities.

The city called and it kept them.

You know it kept Jungkook the most; or maybe it was you who shackled him there, too.

“Apart from the obvious differences,” you start, “I can’t comment much on it yet, but… I’ve been really interested in being here. Super nervous.”

His mother coos, scrunching her nose the way he does, assures that there’s no need to be nervous; that this wedding might end up being the kindest you have ever been to. Adds, “Speaking of. Brought a pretty dress?”

“Oh, of course,” you say; your toes curl in excitement. “I’d show you right now, but I promised to keep it more or less a secret from Jungkook.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “He’s seen it, but not me wearing it.”

“Ah. Is it that pretty?”

“It’s pretty amazing.”

She steps closer as the dish simmers, playing with a couple strands hanging in Jungkook’s eyes. His lips twitch upwards, and his cheeks colour in a blush when she says, “Well, knowing this guy, you’re out to give my boy half a nervous breakdown, I see.”

“I’m trying to, really.”

Your answer is light-hearted, but a mere moment late. You can’t help but wonder what she means by knowing this guy. Then again, you presume a mother usually witnesses her children’s lives; watches them fall in and out of love.

You don’t like how the realisation makes you feel, but you smile it away either way.

And it doesn’t help when Junghyun seems to catch onto her statement, too, saying, “By the way… I’ve heard that at the wedding, we—”

But the interruption is sharp. Unnatural, abrupt, his mother’s voice strange when she interjects, “Ah. Listen. Let’s serve dinner, and we can talk more when we eat. A hand?”

You don’t know what it’s about, but you attempt your best to not be nosy. You can’t even guess it, so it’s probably easiest to let it go. To only stand up to help a little, Jungkook and you handing things around until you’re seated again.

She still scolds Junghyun silently, eyes wide when she sits next to him; perhaps it’s a surprise for Jungkook or for you.

You won’t spoil it. Focus on the food.

And despite the early tension, you survive dinner, albeit occasionally cut by things Jungkook’s father remarks and by Jungkook’s responses of retaliation. Like—

“Honestly, you not liking these is a perk,” Junghyun comments when Jungkooks puts the green beans aside, snatching them immediately.

His father is quick to deduce, “Didn’t you love them?”

Jungkook’s smirk is immediate, accompanied by a shrug and a click of his tongue, and a somewhat passive aggressive, “Yes. Fifteen years ago, though.”

It’s odd, the mixture of anger and fear. He reveals his agitation in his short answers, but he never extends them to something that might provoke a bigger fight.

His father then says, “I’ve never seen you put them aside.”

To which Jungkook mutters, “Should’ve looked more then, right.”

“That’s unnecessary.”

“Okay.”

Tense. Quiet. Gulping.

But you get it over with, breathe and touch through it all until the plates are cleared, stuffed in the dishwasher, the clock ticking. Jungkook leads you to the porch that his family greeted you at earlier. You intertwine your fingers deeper, hoping for some solace between the irate words exchanged.

His shoulders stand slightly higher than usual, eyes a little unfocused. You squeeze his palm, and he laughs when you bump your shoulder against his. Tapping his foot against the porch, he says, “This is where we were having a barbeque this summer. Remember when I called you?”

As if you could forget. Those calls got you through messy, forsaken summer days. He lets go of your hand to tug you into his side, tight in his embrace, and your voice grows a pitch when you answer, “Yeah. You were drunk.”

“I was.”

“And you still called me. Burned your finger, right?”

He scoffs. “I barely remember that. I just remember seeing you on the video call and… missing you really bad.”

You glance into his face, opting him to do the same. Eyes half on his lips, half on his pupils, staring to and fro, you ask, “You don’t miss me now, though, right?”

“Hm… I don’t hope I’ll ever need to again.” As he presses into your arm, you cuddle in. He nods towards the small front yard, “They were playing Linkin Park here. And way back, when I was like seventeen, I’d smoke here sometimes.”

Your eyes blow wide; you can’t imagine his gentle fingers holding a cigarette between them, but then again, you kind of can. He laughs at your surprise before he continues, “I know. Rebellious phase. It was stupid, because Mom would smell it right away and then ground me.”

“Damn, Kook.”

He nods, lifting a shoulder as if to say my bad, and then kisses your temple. Asks, “You feeling good?”

“Yeah. I really like it here so far.”

“Good.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.”

“Good,” you echo, just for him to do it, too.

“Good. I think we cou—”

Pause. 

Because the feast of interruptions continues still. A sudden, shrill call of his name reverberates across the streets, and you flinch, following the sound on the right before detecting somebody walking up to you.

You haven’t seen her yet, but she’s glowing; hair open behind her, just the top half held at the back with a butterfly claw clip. The breeze swirls her bangs, and just from the exhilaration in her voice, you can tell who it is.

Jungkook lights up equally when he squints his eyes and recognises her, loosening his grip around you as he exclaims, “Hey!”

“Helloooo!”

And then he lets you go. You watch the endearments unfold. He says, “Didn’t expect you here today.”

“Me neither,” she says, and he laughs; you join in, already curious. “I was going to binge some show, but Junghyun texted saying you’d arrived.”

She catches up with a somewhat heavy breath, widening her arms when Jungkook steps down from the porch and engulfs her in a firm, heart-warming hug. Loving, decades old.

They oscillate on the spot, and she rubs his back until they let go. She doesn’t waste a minute until her eyes drift to you; they’re so expressive, dark yet glimmering. They prove your assumption when you see her joy towards you immediately.

The moment begins a little awkwardly as the stranger approaches you with uncertainty about what to say, but then she asks, “Is it okay if I hug you, too?”

You giggle. Goodness.

“Gosh, sure!”

And you’re delighted to the bone. Her touch is warm, inviting. They all are. You’re not used to it; why does it make you sentimental? You don’t know her. You’ve never spoken to her. Why the clump in your throat?

Weird.

“Ria,” she introduces, “I’ve heard so much about you. Really, it’s a common thing to say, but I’ve been really excited like… man, why did you come so late when he was sooo whipped in the summer already and—”

Your face heats up impossibly; this thought of a passed summer that called upon a million unknown emotions and words and encounters and yearning… you might never get over it.

Jungkook gives her a playful whack on her clothed arm, eliciting a prolonged Owhhh. You lift a protective arm over her to jest back, and she gasps, infinitely pleased. It helps her open up more, because it seems that she doesn’t need more than this to suggest, “Can I take her?”

Wrinkles form on his forehead as he raises his eyebrows in confusion, and she, nearly jumping at her spot, explains, “Show her around a bit. We’re having dinner soon and then I won’t be able to move, so…”

Jungkook blinks, unsure, looking between her and you until you urge, “It’s okay. You drove most of the time, too, so try and rest a bit.”

Your reassurance helps; either way, you don’t think you would’ve gotten to much more today anyway, no matter how much you hoped to seize the evening. You’re beat from the last day and the terrible night and the tiring journey and the filling meal.

Taking a walk is all you can imagine to do right now.

Maybe he’s on the same wavelength as you, because the nods come slowly but surely. “Sure. Go. I’ll come later to bring her back.”

Ria places a sweet hand on your back, urging you forward and speaking back, “Gotta make sure I don’t kidnap her, what?”

Her house is nearby. The first of the conversation goes by similarly as it did in Jungkook’s house, but the moment she announces the arrival at her own home, your calm demeanour changes to a rather terrified one.

She’s not going to…

No.

Because she promises, “I’m not taking you inside, no worries. I wouldn’t overwhelm you like this.”

Your chest relaxes. You guess meeting one family officially, as if you’re being evaluated for marriage, might suffice. While sure her family’s as lovely as the other, you don’t want the overstimulation.

So instead of urging you inside, she takes you to the small cottage next to her house. Their property is a little bigger, the area spacier. You soon find out that the little house she’s taking you to isn’t some guest thing, but houses dozens of farm animals.

You didn’t think there was something to the cliché you heard about small towns; yet, the reality is much more endearing. How oddly cheerful the animals seem, even though you know the fantasy is just a fabrication of your mind.

You don’t know what they’re thinking or feeling.

One of the hens clucks as Ria picks it up, looking at you with big eyes as she says, “I thought you guys would come early in the night and then just sleep. I didn’t know you’d arrive so much earlier.”

“Oh yeah!” you say, hands in the back pockets of your jeans, “We left the hotel at noon.”

“That’s crazy.”

She bends, letting the hen go, and the little thing instantly rushes away. You flinch, stepping back. You’ve never done this before; you try to keep your cool, but you’re so inexperienced, mesmerised by your surroundings.

This place is so different, so much quieter, more serene. You understand the nostalgic vibe of romance movies set in towns like this. You’re suddenly thrown into The Notebook and into Footloose. Into everything that evokes warmth.

“What is?” you ask.

“Just. It’s so nice to meet you. We have so many guys here, so it’s cool to be with a girl for once.” She takes a deep breath. “And I love Kookie and I trust his judgement. So when he told me about you, I told him to get you here right away. It took you so long.”

Her tone is frisky, but you feel bad. Not quite because you let her wait, but because of why you waited yourself. Because of the breaks and pauses and the split hearts that you needed time for to sew again.

The weeks of insecurity and then the trials of life.

Something in the pit of your stomach stirs at the memories; you can’t believe you’re standing where he fell for you first, despite the distance. Where he reached for you through the rain and the clouds and the stars, and called to listen to your tears and your pleas to return.

You can’t believe it. In fact, yes, you believe it as little as her.

“I get it…” you say, “we have quite a few guys in our group, too.” You wait, watching her nod as she inspects the last of chickens running into the cottage. Then you ask, “What did he tell you about me?”

“What he told me? Mmmh. I mean, it’s difficult to say. He spoke of you highly, but I think his main focus was on not hurting either of you. Very, very worried about how things might play out.”

Yeah… yeah, it sounds like him.

You don’t answer; shift your eyes to the grassy ground. You hear her voice lift a pitch as she says, “Man, too many guys is simply too much, though, seriously. And then having to deal with Kook all the time must be so exhausting, too.”

Laughter erupts out of you, and you shake your head, “I mean, he’s a brat sometimes. But he’s the best man I know.”

“He is a good guy, yeah? I’m so glad.” She nods again, affirmative and positively confirming. “He’s always been. It sucks sometimes that he lives so far away.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, but she shrugs her shoulders, waves off your concerns. “I take it you’re not interested in living in the city?”

Her eyes narrow when she looks into the distance, met with the lowering sun as if it entails the entirety of her beloved town. It’s probably part of it, though; the one sun she’s known all her life, despite the same star rising and setting everywhere in your vast world.

“Not really,” she says, “I like it here… Even though so many left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Some people I knew…”

You can imagine. Two faces flash into your mind, at least. Not that you like half of the thought; but it’s automatic, and so is your statement, “I feel like I know at least two.”

She seems surprised. Tilts her head, blinking, hands on her hips. “Really?”

“Yeah, well…” You avert your eyes, fearing an abundance of transparency. “Jungkook and Nara.”

“Oh.” Ria’s blinking fastens. She didn’t expect this; neither did you. But in some sense, it was inevitable, dropping Nara’s name here. “You met Nara, huh?”

“You say it so… weirdly.”

Her hands lift and she immediately works on objecting to your assumptions, “No, I mean. She’s nice! I liked her growing up. I just wouldn’t have mentioned her unprompted. There’s no need…” She studies your face. “He doesn’t either, you know? Talks about you mostly.”

You don’t know what to say. You gathered this much; but a very strange feeling in your chest presses against your heart, and you can’t quite decipher why. You shove it aside as best as you can, and then breathe it out, thankfully admitting, “That’s relieving.”

“There’s no need to worry. I think he and you will have a good time here and bond more than ever.”

You nod. You don’t feel like responding; not because you don’t like her or don’t want to. Your throat is tied, and you can’t really think of or form a productive thought. So you just keep nodding, smiling until a hen pops out again.

Ria, pushing away a stray strand of her dark hair, points to the little, excited animal, wondering, “Hey, have you ever held a chicken?”

“No!” Ah. Good tactic to distract you, considering how many times you mentioned this minor wish in the past weeks. “But I want to! Told Jungkook like a hundred times.”

“Okay,” she waves you closer and you dare to approach, hoping to neither hurt the hen nor yourself. You have absolutely no clue about these things. “Come here then. It’s not hard.”

It’s not. In fact, the process sounds logical, facile; but your hands are shaking, and often enough, animals seem to understand negative emotions when targeted. But Ria proves a good teacher.

Shows you to near the hen calmly, moving slowly to not startle her. She instructs you to soften your voice as much as possible, kindly noting that you’re soft-spoken enough to not worry about it. And then, once close enough, she demonstrates placing a hand around the tiny body, securing the wings to prevent flapping.

You imitate. Or try to, at least. It doesn’t work right away, your nervousness intruding; but at some point, you manage. You use your other hand to support the body, lift the hen gently. Hold it close to your body to give her a sense of security, much as Ria lectured.

Ria is patient, amazing, despite having done this probably a thousand and million times. Adjusting to your lack of knowledge, praising you, acknowledging your effort.

Her giggle is mellifluously sweet as she watches and hears you gasp; she applauds, but stops right away when she detects the third presence amongst you.

She calls, “Ah! You’re finally here.”

Your eyes follow hers, heart lighting up as you hold up the chicken carefully and nearly shout in uninhibited excitement, “Kook, look!”

His hands are in his jeans’ pockets; his walk idle. One of his eyes is squinting shut until he steps into the shadow, a tender smile playing around his lips before you realise that it looks… sad. Doesn’t reach as far. No crinkles around his eyes.

“Aren’t you the cutest, munchkin?” he responds before dropping into a crouch next to you. He seems brighter upon seeing your face, but you still keep wondering… What just happened in the house?

You don’t know. You don’t want to ask yet either.

So you only set the hen down, lowering her until she’s balanced and waddling — waddling? — away. You wrap your arms around him, providing a flicker of warmth. You don’t know what made his face fall like this, but you want to at least attempt to lift his chin again.

God. What a start to the first day. Is it odd to feel scared?

“Wanna go?” he asks, a thumb brushing the corner of your lip.

You hum, “I’m getting tired, yeah…”

“Then we can go and rest? And sleep if you want to.”

It’s early… but laying down and staring at the ceiling doesn’t sound too bad right now. Maybe he needs it, too. So you agree, pressing Ria to your heart once more and promising to return to her.

She’ll be at the wedding, too. You guess you’ll see everyone multiple times anyway; but as rude as it may sound, the thought of warming into this man’s body doesn’t allow you to bother with the world right now.

His steps are slow as you walk to the house. Eyes drooping. He might not notice; he’s been here so many times. But his presence, combined with the things you see, make your heart swell.

Maybe because you want to be there for him; maybe because you still can’t believe you’re here. But you perceive everything as if for the first time.

The cosy garden and the flower beds. A small-town house sitting on a quiet, tree-lined street. It’s more on the simple side, painted in warm hues, a light beige. Charming. You remember everything being charming.

The snug living room, the tender, partly wooden and partly modern kitchen, the clearly old and handmade dishes. A fireplace. Wooden floors. 

You haven’t seen the rooms yet, but as he leads you upstairs, you imagine him doing the same this summer as he approached his bed. He walked these same steps, a narrow and short hallway, opening the door to an inviting childhood bedroom with you present in his device.

Yearning.

But the man from the summer isn’t all you see. In fact, the place reminds of time travel; you soon recognise just how signature Jungkook everything is.

Because the moment you enter, you see him in everything. Like, in the soft quilts on his bed; he wouldn’t use them today, but you imagine a shy Jungkook and you imagine big eyes, small hands pulling the sheets over his body to cuddle into a warm night.

The window overlooks the backyard; the sunlight filters through the sheer curtains. It’s still just the middle of the evening. But you find it hard to want to leave this simple comfort. Lived-in, sweet.

Reminiscent of a youth.

Like a soft tune of a ballad. You don’t know what it is that makes you feel this way.

The cosiness? The pictures on shelves? The slightly tilted roof of the room? Or the posters reminding of a world a decade ago. It hasn’t been this long, if you think about it, but to you, all of this still tells a story.

“What’s this?” you ask, opening a random drawer and grazing rolled up paper, large, stowed away.

“Posters, I think? I haven’t seen or opened them in ages. Maybe we can—”

He pulls and rolls them out, glancing for a bare moment before he undos the action with a sudden bright red on his cheeks. You try to catch a glimpse, “What?”

He doesn’t answer, so you take the poster from him, only needing to open it halfway through to see a pretty face, followed by a swimsuit and a snatched body. Ah. Is this…

“Victoria’s Secret?”

“Shut up,” he instructs, and you hold yourself back, watching him, blinking until—

You puff out some air, nearly spitting as you laugh, teasing, “You were that type of guy, yeah?”

“Shut up,” he repeats, prying it out of your hands before he throws it into a corner. “I had this up for like two weeks. Forget it.”

“Never threw it away, though.”

“Never thought of it.”

He scratches the back of his head, a tilted smirk on his face, and you can’t help but want to keep annoying him. But he needs far more than this right now, and you’re not here to get on his nerves. So you walk up to him until determined arms wrap around his waist, kissing his chin.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Well…” He’s quieter than he’s been in the last few days and it disheartens you. Somehow fatigued, eyes halfway closed. “You know.”

You do know. Or perhaps, you don’t, but you can well imagine.

You’re not sure how he took all of this day in, day out for so many years, but you understand the weight of the situation a lot better now. Of course your mind would be rewired if you hurt this much all the time.

Whatever you’re seeing now is a fraction of what he experienced.

“It’s going to be okay,” you remind him again.

“Yeah.” He sniffles. “Hey. I have a little surprise for you tomorrow. It was spoiled a bit, but you’re right.” A peck to your nose. “You don’t know anything yet. But you’ll like it, I think.”

You don’t doubt it; you guess it helps, not being aware of much at all. Waiting for the surprise.

But then again…

When you look at him again, excitement flickering in those tired eyes of his and a hand pushing against the small of your back lightly, you think that you know a couple things at least.

“Okay. Hold on. You’re definitely going too fast!”

“This is too fast? You should’ve seen Junghyun and me racing years ago.”

You lower your head in an attempt to hide it from the wind, seeking his sweater; it’s impossible from this angle. You’re at the front, surviving between his arms as he navigates the bicycle recklessly. 

The wind slaps your face, cooler this noon than yesterday. The bike writhes on the road, and you yell out, “Man, I’ll die!”

“Baby!” he exclaims back.

His laugh is louder than the gust as you hold onto his moving thighs and then realise it’s of no help. You shift your hands to the front of the cycle, wondering when it’ll hit an unforeseen rock and tip over.

“Hey,” he tries again when you only scream back, “have you never been on a bike before?”

“Of course I have!” You resist the urge to add a curse. He’ll kill the two of you. The streets are steep, probably a hill, going downwards. “Just never two people at once.”

“I did it a lot! With friends, and mostly with Gureum.”

Gureum… his dog. You have yet to meet him.

“Gureum?” you repeat.

“Yeah! He’d sit in the basket and… and enjoy the wind. Eyes closed.” He pants between cycling. “I told you, no?”

But your thoughts are elsewhere, chin dropping to your clavicles as if not looking could save you. “Fucking hell—”

“Okay. Okay…”

The bike stops abruptly, and you yelp, shutting your eyes tight and preparing yourself to die. But death doesn’t come; a tap to your hip does. His fingers hold you, calming you, words the opposite as he orders, “Alright. Get off my bike. You can walk the rest of the distance.”

Between the sniffling and the reclaiming of control of your trembling legs, you register the surprising command, and mumble, “What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart. I’ll wait at the flower field.”

You dare a look over your shoulder. His expression is serious, an eyebrow cocking. You want to retort something snarky, tell him you’ll stay on if he just slows down, for the love of God; but instead, you look ahead, and decode the view immediately.

The grass is high and the place wide. You’re right where the field begins, the road more narrow here, only really enough for cyclists and walkers. You roll your eyes, getting off as you tell him, “You’re terrible. We’re already here.”

He laughs, dropping the bike to the side carelessly before he reaches for your messed up hair. Fixes at least the front of it, flattening it in the back. You’re glad there’s no mirror around.

Then, he proceeds to grab your hand, a finger pointing to the place and says, “Look around.”

You do. It’s widely open and empty. A decent amount of flowers; you imagine a plethora of them in the summer and the spring. Now that fall is in full effect and it’s a little colder here than on your coastal vacation, you reckon that this isn’t usually all how the field looks.

But it’s beautiful. In the far, far back, you see the forest expand. Slightest traces of autumn foliage. The leaves will fall and entirely bare the trees soon.

“This is so pretty,” you say.

“Right?”

“Was this the surprise?”

“I mean,” he cards his fingers through his hair, but as he grabs the willow wicker from the larger cycle basket, the mane is blown back into his sight just a moment later, “yeah. But the actual surprise is a bit further down the field. Come.”

He guides the way, and you put your all into deciphering what he might be hinting at, only for him to say, “Don’t look so hard. You will see it in a moment anyway.”

The laugh he elicits is sweet, a thumb touching the back of your hand. Your shoulders drop in relaxation, and you shift your attention to the grass and the flowers, trying not to stomp on any of those that are still left for this fall.

A couple feet forward, you tell him, “You know I still need to meet Gureum.”

“I know. He was with Ria since we can’t really take care of him when we’re away.”

“You could take him to the city.”

“I’d do anything to be able to. But Gureum is… a free dog. He wouldn’t enjoy life in a smaller apartment after running around for so long.”

Ah… You feel the opposite still; jumped from a large cage into a homey, sheltered cube happily. But you get it; the freedom here doesn’t compare to a crowded city, does it?

“But,” Jungkook continues, “Ria said she’d bring him over this noon, so he should be there when we get home.”

“Damn. Why am I more excited about this than necessary?”

“Oh, you should be. I am, too… he’s my old boy.”

The oxymoron grants you a smile; to a parent, a baby stays a baby. Most of the time, at least. Jungkook feels something for Gureum, and even a stranger, lost and unknowing, could piece this bit together within a heartbeat.

“He’s old?” you wonder.

“He’s twenty years old. A bit slower now but… the same amount of love in his heart.”

One shall learn how to love and be kind from Jeon Jungkook. Then again, he’d be an excellent example, but a bad teacher. Wouldn’t know what to say. Wouldn’t be able to really pick out what makes him so pure-hearted.

He just is… He just is.

“I can’t fucking wait,” you say, inspirited.

The sight changes along with his expressions as you walk down the field. From happiness to a smile to excitement and then contentment. The flowers mostly disappear, giving way to something you don’t really recognise.

Orderly rows, bright green leaves and… more plants? As you inbreathe the air, however, you swear you recognise the sweet and fresh scent. Even from here, it’s distinct and special.

And when you trudge closer, finally glancing down, you understand.

Jungkook…

He took you strawberry picking.

You see them low on the ground, clustered, ripe and red. Pretty. Enough to warrant a dozen adjectives; yet, you only whisper, “Wow.”

He waits… then waits more. Lets your eyes scan the area and the fruits, permits you to take in what he probably reckons you’ve never seen before in this form. And he’s right — you haven’t.

“You like it?” he questions. “I was unsure, like… maybe you’re underwhelmed?”

Your head turns towards him at light speed. “What? I’m not. I’ve never seen anything like this before,” you confirm, repeating your thoughts, “I am definitely not underwhelmed. This is… this is something my younger self craved.”

“Oh— Really? How so?”

You hum. Think back to late nights in the back of your bed, a room larger than what you needed, yet smaller than your imagination. Smaller than your heart.

“I read stories,” you tell him, “fairy tales. Watching tales of love in the countryside. We don’t have these places in the city, do we?”

Jungkook’s hand, on your back a second ago, travels up to the back of your neck, touching it gently. “I guess you’d have to find a farm.” He stares ahead where you do, still standing there, unmoving. Then, “Angel?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you went on a field trip to a farm, right?”

“I… can only really remember once in school. Kids were shitty.” You spoke about this once; last month, he promised you’d see Ria’s farm, too. Funny that she actually did show you. “And my parents weren’t really interested in that stuff. Which I do kinda get because many city people aren’t.”

“Mhm, I can understand.” He shuffles his feet, presumably a little sad for you, regarding the long row of strawberries stretching to his right. You’re about to crouch and try without a clue what to do when he, instead of commenting on things much more, asks, “Okay, so. Wanna pick strawberries?”

“Yes!” You rub your hands, taking a step forward, but pausing again; you could start anywhere. “Will you show me how?”

“Of course.” He hums, looking for an easy spot with an accumulation of easy-to-pick fruits; then, he lifts his jeans by a couple inches and lowers his body. “Look. You can crouch or kneel.”

You give your clothes a lookover. Just some everyday jeans; they should be able to take some dirt. In actuality, though, you might’ve joined him on the ground anyway. So you do, kneeling with your hands on your thighs, obediently listening.

“You look so cute.” He chuckles, the back of his fingers barely grazing your cheek for a moment. As he sniffles, his chin nods towards the plants, hands reaching for them. “So. You gently pull the leaves aside and just pick the strawberries. Avoid those that aren’t red, though, okay?”

His pinky touches parts of an unripe strawberry still in the ground, and he explains, “You’ll know that one’s ripe when it comes off easily. Like this,” he tugs at it, “isn’t ripe. Won’t come off so well. Mmmh. Let’s try this one.”

You follow his movements until he settles for a particularly pretty and seemingly juice berry; with ease, he plucks it off by grasping the stem and twisting a little, and says, “See? You could eat this one right now. But… basket?” You shove it towards him and he throws the berry inside. “We’ll wash it before that.”

It’s quiet and sweet here as he works on explaining the process to you. An atmosphere you haven’t ever witnessed anywhere before. It’s probably different in the spring, but you’re alone here; even if someone’s around somewhere, you can’t see them from where you sit.

And it helps you focus: on how concentrated he looks, lower lip pouting, crouching easily with his sweater sleeves rolled up. It’s unusual how his tattooed hand works on the plants. Your first imagination of such a task always involves straw hats and dungarees.

“Try it, too,” he then instructs.

He puts a gentle palm on your back as you get up from kneeling, now crouching as he is, and cast about for a couple good pieces. Whenever you think you’ve found one, you seek confirmation in his eyes, repeating, “Is this okay?”

And he always promises, “You’re doing well. Look,” he inspects one of your choices, “picking the best even.”

“You’ll have to eat mine, then.”

“Sure will. I knew you’d be so good at this.”

You’re surprised; you never saw yourself doing this, even though you yearned for a life so different than the one you lived. Until you stepped off his bicycle twenty minutes ago, you had never come up with such an idea. All the more reason to be thankful to him.

But you do wonder why he’d perceive something like this far before you did, so you ask, “Really? Why?” 

He uttered the words so casually, pupils fixated on the basket; he might not have noticed how immediately you reacted. Because he hums now, looking at you with immense eyes, matter-of-factly spelling out, “Because you’re gentle. This called for you.”

Because you’re gentle. Because you’re gentle.

The reasoning, so clear to him, repeats in your mind. It’s not as obvious to you; it’s been a while since you thought of your qualities, and in the last months, being gentle often meant the same to you as quietly enduring.

So you’re touched, silenced by the lump in your throat; such an easy sentence, but so filled with  knowledge about a person that only truly occurs with the purest of affections.

As you stare at him, you feel the fondness spreading over your countenance as much as the leaves tickling your ankle; you hold the current strawberry delicately as you conclude, “That’s why you brought me here, yeah?”

“That too.”

Oh.

“What else?”

“You can’t do this every day,” he argues, “I want to show you new places and things.”

You graze the vulnerable skin of the strawberries collecting in the basket, watching it fill enough to feed a couple people. Grabbing it, you lift your body with a smile. For a minute, your knee aches from the crouching, and your brain gathers the sensations into one to create another core memory.

Lost for words, you merely tell him, “Thank you, Kook, I…” You heave the basket to your chest, touching his hand as he rises, too. “How do you even come up with all this?”

“How I come up with it? Hmm… I guess you make it easy to do.” He laughs, and you follow, reading your mind as he voices the same thought flashing through your brain. “I know I’ll be so nostalgic about this someday. In ten years, maybe.”

Cheeks hot despite the autumn wind, you register the butterflies immediately. Right under the basket, underneath your skin, like a swarm awaking from metamorphosis. The fact that he thinks ahead like this, paints a distant future with you… wanting you for this long drives you insane.

Jungkook’s voice always lacks uncertainty when it comes to you.

Mellow when he speaks to you, gentle even when he asks, “More?”

“Mmmh… yes. Can do a few more. And it’s fun.” So you do; picking and plucking until you can barely carry the basket anymore, already wondering what to do with the bunch until you pop the idea, “Can we eat some of these?”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course. Gotta wash them, though.”

Which isn’t as easy as it sounds. It takes you a good moment to find a water tap on the wide field; one only crosses your way when you travel back to where the bike stands, proving as dysfunctioning and broken.

And only once you’ve reached nearly the end of the field and already detect the narrow path that you cycled along from afar, your luck strikes. You wash a handful of your harvest and place them neatly at the top of the rest, right above a handkerchief Jungkook whipped out from his pocket.

The grass isn’t high everywhere; you find an ideal spot for a brief, spontaneous picnic, pleasant and comfortable; a fluffy blanket of nature. You watch ladybugs and ants crawl over blades of grass; not too much more, considering the season.

Jungkook works through the content of the basket, soon holding a piece to your mouth, “Take this,” he says, pushing it through your parted lips; waits until you’ve chewn most of it. “And?”

The initial taste is good, but the aftertaste dramatically makes your world quiver. Whatever you’ve known about food and fruits so far must have been a hoax, because you can’t fake the way your eyes widen and your voice raises in pitch, delighted as you say, “This is… so damn good.”

“Right?”

“They don’t taste like this in the city!”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chooses a smaller one from the collection, throwing it into his mouth as a whole, “these are fresh. No bullshit berries.”

“No bullshit berries indeed. So good.”

“You picked good ones!”

“But this is a curse, too!” you exclaim, urging a laugh out of him that he transforms into a kiss to your temple, observing as you munch the strawberries as though encountering them for the first time. And you pout as you say, “ Keep me from eating them all. I want to take the rest home.”

“Sure, don’t worry. We can put them somewhere and take them back on the last day.”

“Hm? Oh. No, I meant today. Home, your house…” You realise your mistake. “Sorry.”

Only, he doesn’t deem it a mistake for a moment. He didn’t think you’d feel this cosy this fast — but it was what he’d hoped and opted for, so it’s a win either way. His family as your home, him as your home.

He thinks, you finally do feel at home. It took you years of endurance, didn’t it?

“Home, yeah?” he mutters. “An apology is the last thing I’d want, angel. You’re home, alright.”

You wish you had an equally meaningful answer; whatever you might babble now, you don’t think you could do justice to the soft tone he settled on. You can’t even outdo his gaze, so round, eyes so big on his otherwise clear-cut face.

What you can do is smile. Draw closer until your shoulders touch. About to taste the strawberry-flavoured, red tinted lips before a sudden motion drowns your plans.

The bunny flits over your feet; you’re sure it jumps onto yours for a moment and then uses them to push itself off into the grass, journeying on. The yelp it elicits out of you merges with the startled sound Jungkook emits.

His elbow lightly hits the side of your breast, and you pull your legs into your chest as self-defence. But it’s gone as fast as it appeared, and barely a second later, you’re watching it hop away, little ears disappearing in the distance.

“Well,” Jungkook breathes, “at least that’s normal. I’ll tell you about my snake encounters later some day.”

A hand on your chest, you exclaim, “Oh my God. You know what?” You calm down your lowkey panting, hand falling back into your lap, “Maybe you were right. We’re home for sure.”

“Oh… yeah?”

“Yeah! Totally looked like you… thought we were back home.”

Jungkook laughs out, head throwing back, and then, amidst his giggle, he throws a “Shut up” at you. The tackle nearly pushes you to the ground before his lips attack your face all over; making out on a countryside field wasn’t on your bucket list, but you sure as hell will add it only to tick it off.

His tongue really does taste like strawberries. His lips are sweet; the hand on your waist careful yet explorative. If the grass wasn’t this cruel, tickling all over your body, you’d probably remain here for the next hour.

Let him strip you bare. Kiss you into the earth. Nobody’s here; you don’t think you’ve ever fantasised of such a moment before, but suddenly, you don’t mind loving him right here.

But maybe he’s fostering the same thoughts as you, pulling back with a little groan when the blades prick his cheeks and closed eyes. Endurance isn’t easy right now; and you have a lot planned for the rest of the day anyway.

So you pull yourself together, and nod when he finally asks, “Wanna go?”

Somehow, it takes you a little longer to get home than it did to reach the field. Perhaps because he’s cycling uphill now, or maybe because the sun is at its zenith, warming the colder day. The comfort makes you want to stay in this moment, have his voice laughing next to your ear.

On a bike swaying when he loses focus, rolling dangerously to tease you on purpose.

And when you get back to his house, you’re greeted with yet another surprise. It’s fluffy and sweet and white like a cloud, living up to its name. A tongue sticks out, tail wiggling, right at the door when Jungkook opens it.

Gureum is small, smiling as far as you’re aware of a dog’s joy. You once heard that upon seeing their owner, the same hormone floods their tiny bodies as a human’s when they fall in love. Gureum must feel much like you do when Jungkook comes home.

You understand.

Understand when Gureum jumps up to Jungkook’s legs, licking his human’s face when your boyfriend picks him up. Jungkook’s voice changes so much that you barely recognise it; you’ve never heard him talk like this. Higher, lovelier, slurred to imitate the language babies speak.

The affection is unfiltered and crystal clear.

Jungkook’s smile brightens until it reaches its maximum, bunny teeth flashing, the laugh erupting so deeply from his chest. Authentic. Eyes nearly closed as he calls Gureum’s name, plays with his face, as if communicating with a child.

Twenty years, and he still thinks of him as his baby. Sometimes, all golden stays.

“Baby,” he says after a while once Gureum has stopped licking his face, introducing, “this is my Gureum.”

You set the basket down next to the door, reaching a careful hand to Gureum’s head; but he’s cooperative. Lets you easily. “Hi Gureum,” you whisper, “nice to finally meet you. You’re so cute!”

“He’s a little sick these days, but,” Jungkook gazes down again, kissing Gureum’s ears. “He gets through it so well, doesn’t he? Yes, he does.”

The laugh is real. The affection is real. Tender and deep-rooted. He smooches him again, and then puts a cheek to his warm fur. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve never fallen deeper.

“I missed you so much, too, buddy,” he says, “so, so much.”

You swear you see Gureum cuddling into Jungkook’s chest. Doesn’t move even when you’ve settled in the living room, resting from the journey. You’d drafted plans for the rest of today, but it doesn’t seem they’ll separate, and you don’t want them to.

You can wait. Things can wait.

You sit by Jungkook’s side as he pets him, his head soon on your shoulder, one hand in the white fur, the other holding yours. It’s how you remain for a bit.

In hindsight, albeit never having plucked strawberries before, today wasn’t some grand adventure across the world. You didn’t strike a deal at work or fight off some paparazzi hiding in an unexpecting corner. And you didn’t climb a mountain.

But you guess that’s what you craved all your life. Somehow, this is better than any crazy escapade.

The serenity that comes with a mundane moment. A love that consumes you and a love that helps you commit the most casual of acts to memory.

Maybe this is enough. An old couch lightly creaking as you move; a cloud blinking as you caress its head. Surprises to help you experience saccharine afternoons.

You remain for a bit, and then remain a little longer.

Ria came through the door not too long after you’d returned, ready for the evening plans. She’d promised to accompany the two of you to the centre of the town, giving you a tour of the most important and ancient of places.

You learned about the town’s only drapery seamstress and the best flower shop. Much as it so occurs in 70s and 80s movies, you met the son of a mechanic. He told you he’d be inheriting the company one day, and that it was okay because he never intended to leave anyway.

Ria’s eyes suspiciously widened as she spoke to him, and she lingered for a moment longer than you did after your farewell. The guy had forgotten that there was work to do by the time she finally bid him goodbye.

Jungkook’s eyes squinted at the sight, but not even he could hide his endeared smile. Pressed into Ria’s shoulder with a teasing hum.

You rewarded yourself for the day’s many steps with some soft serve in front of the city hall, talking and delivering anecdotes until the sun started setting.

As the evening concludes, you’re the last to appear at dinner. His family is already sitting here, politely waiting and sweetly welcoming once you’ve washed up and hopped into the dining room with a vibrant smile.

You’re in a good mood. Evidently so; the scent of strawberries and the taste of his mouth still linger, and you’re still coming down from the high when you chime, “I’m sorry for being late.”

“Don’t worry about it at all,” his mother assures, “we just sat down.”

“I really wanted to help, though.”

It’s true. His mother has been nothing but the ultimate host. You wanted to prove productive and useful, but then Eun had called to check in on you and delayed your plans.

“Hmm, you know what?” his mother utters, pouring you some Jjamppong. “The wedding isn’t until one, so we could get up earlier and make strawberry jam in the morning? If you’d like.”

The wedding has been in the back of your mind constantly, slowly sneaking to the forefront with an intense nervousness. You’re timid because of how it’ll turn out, how people will perceive you, if they’ll talk to you. How Jungkook will look at you.

How much love might spread; how much certain people might tone down their resentment.

Learning yet another skill such as making jam might just be the best distraction. So you nod wildly, only interrupted when Jungkook asks, “Can I join, too?”

But you change the movements of your head to a shake, jesting about quality time and whatnot until he surrenders, “Alright. Way to shut out the boyfriend and son, I see you.”

“Speaking of food,” you say, pausing, slurping a big bite of noodles; they’re spicier than you’re used to from city restaurants. Better, too. You point your chopsticks to your dinner. “May I have the recipe?”

As his father and brother indulge in their food, acting as quiet listeners, his mother answers, “I’m sure Jungkook has it. I’m offended he never cooked it for you, since they had it a lot growing up.”

“Offended indeed. You learned this?”

“Oh, this?” Jungkook’s eyebrows, hitherto sporting a crease between them — a telltale sign of a well-eating Jeon — relax. “Yeah! I was learning when I was like, what, fifteen?” He seeks approval from his mother, who soon nods. “I fully butchered it when I tried it for the first time.”

Junghyun chuckles. “Even I remember.”

“Yeah, you refused to help!” Jungkook complains, whining when Junghyun hits his brother’s elbow with his own. “And I burned my wrist and had the wound for ages. Couldn’t do much in P.E.”

Much as yesterday, it seems his father hasn’t learned; because as you feared, it’s only now when he melts and intervenes. You almost surmise he’s provoking on purpose when he queries, “When you were fifteen when? I can’t remember any wounds.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Are you telling me I’m making it up again?”

“No, I’m just saying I don’t remember.”

“That’s because you were at work and didn’t pick up my many calls. Mom was sick that week… It's why I wanted to cook and learn at all.” He nods towards his brother. “Junghyun remembers because he went to a friend and then rushed home to bring me to the hospital. None of it sounds familiar to you, does it?”

Jungkook lists and narrates the happening with a flat voice, as if recalling items still left to purchase for tomorrow’s meal. He’s stirring his soup and his father is stirring everyone else’s, uncaring as he responds, “I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine. You probably didn’t care.”

“Nonsense.”

Another, “As much as the last years,” added to the mix, you opt for his hand under the table again, but he pulls away. You’re left dumbfounded, looking at him in surprise. This has never happened before; he’s never been upset in such a way.

As if to signal, “It’s fine. It’s whatever. Let me deal with this.”

But he can’t deal with it; you see the beginning signs of a rising chest and a decreasing appetite. Nobody just plays with the content of such a rich soup for this long; least of all a foodie like him. He’s busy looking at it, propping his elbow on the table.

You stare for a little longer, and then turn back to your food.

It sounds like it’s over. And it’s quiet; maybe you could interrupt with something else, change the course of the conversation. But his father isn’t done yet.

No. You notice everybody else’s irritation when he opens his mouth to speak again. They sigh, forming a line with their lips when he emits a question that leaves even you in disbelief, “Why are you saying this?”

“Come on,” his mother tries, wanting to ease the tension, but Jungkook is faster.

“What? I mean, I don’t know?” he starts, once again an equal amount of fear and annoyance in his voice. “I barely ever hear from you, Dad.” With each word, he grows more daring, at the end of his capacities when he eventually curses, “We live in the same city, for fuck’s sake—”

“Jungkook—” Junghyun interrupts.

“What? It’s true. Even the last hundred times, Mom visited alone. Could’ve at least come over and said Hi to my girlfriend.”

“I’m here now and saying Hi, though,” you try, weakly smiling.

“And he’s here, too. How grand of him.”

Fuck.

“Stop the attitude,” his father warns, “you could’ve come over plenty of times, too.”

“Are you hearing yourself? News flash, I did. I tried to talk to you, too. If I was still fourteen, I’d still be apologising. Oh, or is that what you want? Is it what you want?”

“What are you talking ab—”

“I’m talking about how I really wanted to tell you about a shit ton of things. Like when Nara and I broke up,” amidst the already tense moment, your heart pains for a second, “or when I graduated. Or when I was having a really fucking hard time this summer and needed somebody and then when I fell in love and needed to tell somebody, and… where are you all the time anyway? Who fucking knows — I don’t!”

It worsens and worsens. Crashes and burns; every word splits the air in the room. You don’t know how to save the moment anymore; maybe you’re not supposed to. You can only lend him courage. Perhaps he’s supposed to finally say all this.

But it’s hard to listen.

Because as the waterfall of grief cascades, you hear Jungkook’s voice quiver. He’s about to break. Right here, in front of everybody, you’re about to witness the woe this man inflicted on him all his life.

And you see it; see parts of this very torture when his father reveals who he’s become over the decade. The one Jungkook described to you; empty of empathy and understanding.

Because again, he renders you in shock when he speaks again. Fucking nasty, nitpicking and focusing on only one aspect, attacking somebody’s pride.

“Get a grip over yourself! You graduated in arts — you didn’t conquer the world. And you hold a grudge when—”

“I hold a grudge? I do? You’re the fucking one who shunned a kid because of a mistake and—”

“I do not want to hear about this. Not again.”

As their voices grow, so does your heartbeat. The anxiety is unbearable; you can barely imagine the one spreading through Jungkook’s chest. His face is red, neck hot, veins about to pop. If you could, you’d slap your hands over your ears.

But you can’t listen away; can’t ignore the panic, either.

“Please, stop,” you say, moving, but Jungkook frees himself of your grip again, stands. You attempt again, “Stop it, baby.”

But he won’t listen, mind somewhere else entirely.

“You won’t blame me for shit you did years ago, you can’t—” his father insists, but…

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Watch your mo—”

“Or wha—”

His father’s face, similarly scarlet as his son’s, grows a shade darker at the shameless counter, and his large hand lifts in slow motion for you. Comes down with a thump, intending to slap the wooden table, but hitting the edge of his small kimchi bowl again.

It flies up inches into the air before suddenly rolling off the table, aligning with you and soon falling onto your lower arm with a painful impact. It topples down onto your knee before it meets the ground and shatters into a handful of pieces.

You gasp and shriek, more out of surprise than pain; but Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. He bolts towards you, protecting you from whatever danger might be left. Pulls you off your seat and away from the shards as dead silence befalls the room.

It’s filled with your shaky breaths and the way his mother and brother shove their chairs back, hands reaching for you. Jungkook keeps you out of their reach. Looks at his father for a couple seconds; then to the kimchi on the ground; then back to him.

You can’t see him properly until you move to glance at him, wanting to keep his anger low, but… you don’t think you can do much anymore.

The fire in his eyes is blue.

And his voice is strained but furious when he finalises through gritted teeth, “You are fucking insane.”

This time, the man doesn’t answer. You hear his wife utter something as if scolding him before she speaks up and offers to clean up the mess. But Jungkook shakes his head, “No need. He can do it.”

Then, turning to his father, he repeats, “You’re fucking insane. You’re a terrible parent and we all know and only you can’t admit it to yourself. I just didn’t think you’d develop into a terrible person, too.”

Still long fingers around your wrist, he moves you towards the stairs, rounding off the fight with one more, “Don’t fucking get near me or her, do you understand? Fuck.”

So many words exchanged, but it was the stupid kimchi covering your pyjamas to make him topple over the edge. You feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s the man downstairs that has so fucking much to reflect on.

God. You wanted this vacation to relax Jungkook, to soothe you, to turn the first painful half of the year into something glorious.

But…

Then again, didn’t you expect this? Weren’t you scared of this?

Didn’t you fear the exact manner in which he now leads you to his room, in which the slamming of the door rings in your ears, his hands in his hair?

He’s let you go and stranded in his room. It’s odd, the way you stand here, clothes dirty and the grief dirtier. 

You walk towards him cautiously, watching him shiver, and reach for his wrists in turn this time. It’s a featherlight touch, but you feel the tremble underneath your fingers. And you instantly notice when he starts coming undone. When his lips shake, too.

Even with his head lowered, you recognise the wet waterline, and how it takes a handful more heavy breaths until you hear the first sob. You hug him. You hug him right away. Hold him close and closer.

You make a weak attempt at pulling him to the bed, but he’s already in the process of breaking down, his body getting heavier, falling. The carpet offers solace as his knees suddenly hit the ground. His arms hold onto your hips and his face buries in your chest.

When his breathing turns irregular, so does yours; you feel like the world is splitting and the sky crashing down. 

His leg comes in touch with your messed up clothes, and when he looks up into your eyes, he’s already crying. A trail of tears courses down his cheeks as his pupils suddenly shake, looking for something, asking you, “Did he hurt you, baby?”

“Kook…”

“Let me see, you must be hurt, you— you were just wearing these thin ass slippers without socks, right? The fucking bowl shattered and…”

“I’m okay, Kookie. I’m not hurt, I promise.”

“No, but… it fell on you, it must— did it bruise your knee?” he continues hectically, inspecting you, never seeing anything. He cradles your face, still crying and sniffling, shoving his pain aside to make sure, “Please tell me if anything hurts, ‘kay? I will get something, I’ll— dunno, fucking smash his fucking face, I’ll—”

His mind is going haywire. A proper downward spiral, and you don’t know how to stop it. What the fuck— what the fuck…

“Jungkook— Jungkook, please,” you try, lowering his hand, but he won’t stop searching for signs of injury. “Baby, please.”

“Why is he like this? I just… man, I am trying, angel.” His voice falls at the last word; your heart fractures at the same time as it tries to keep his intact. “I am trying so hard in life for him to like me, and you… you’re here, so I thought he’d behave and instead—”

“I know. It’s okay.”

It’s not, but you can’t say it. Can’t say how much the meaning behind your stained clothes hurts. How much it connects to what the weeping man in your arms feels; how he looked forward to this, planning ahead, a surprise for everyday without anticipating such ruin.

And he’s as clueless as you. More broken than you ever anticipated. Resembling the burst dish one floor beneath you, holding you like an anchor, crying into your chest.

He keeps repeating the same things as you repeat yours, soon mumbling his words of trying and trying and constantly trying. Of wanting to be loved. Attempting to understand if it’s too much to ask for. Is it?

Why can’t he love me?

And you whisper back, He loves you. He does.

It’s easy, falling into such misery. There were moments not too far in the past where you were on the receiving end of such pain, and he was your life vest. You don’t know if you’re keeping him above the surface as well as he did, because you keep susurrating the hopeful mantra to him.

But he keeps believing—

“No… no, he never fucking did. Wh—who treats someone like this?”

“Some people forget, you know… how to show affection. Sometimes, they deem their pride more important. It says nothing about you.” You lift his chin, heartbroken upon detecting his reddened eyes. “Everyone else in this stupid world loves you.”

“Your mother doesn’t either…”

“My mother? The woman who hates literally everyone?” You smile, trying to make him imitate it, but he doesn’t. You brush his cheeks and then his hair. “I do. I love you. I knew who you were even when I was unbiased.”

“Didn’t you… hate me, too?”

Once again, you try a faint smile. Not for him to join in, but because you’re reminded of a foolish friendship; it had already long bloomed into more when you’d finally named it one.

“Not for a second,” you say.

Break in discussion. He’s still shedding tears, snivelling. Stays frozen like this, all of him unable to move except for his lips. They mutter, “I don’t ever want you to get hurt. He can do whatever the fuck he wants with me, but…”

“Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“I love you,” he maffles weakly, “I love you. I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

You feel as though offering solace to a child. As if he’s shrunk into what he used to be, in the very room he used to sulk. The trauma still belongs to a kid, and when hurt, he’ll turn him into one, too.

You hate it. Hate that his sorrow still belongs to such a young heart. That he never processed it.

Before you came here, you spoke about it. And once you’re back in the city, you’ll have to figure things out further; the time constraints just before you drove away didn’t allow you to take much into consideration.

You can only cry now, can’t you? Detest the dampness in your own eyes. Stay right here until some sign occurs, lifting you up from the ground.

And it does fifteen minutes later.

The knock is gentle, just two of them, and you tell Jungkook to wait, that you’d be back in a minute. As you stand, his back is bent, his head lowered. As if he’s sleepwalking or slowly fainting.

You shut your eyes for a second; then open them again.

Behind the door, his mother awaits. In her soft hands, she’s balancing a tray holding some food. She lifts it towards you, tells you, “The two of you barely ate.”

Upon a closer look, you realise that her eyes are swollen, too. The view nearly forces you to tear up again, your face seethingly hot. You want to hug her. Want to tell her you’re sorry. Instead, you only touch her shoulder, and mutter a grateful thank you.

“It’s okay.”

She sounds so pained. You wonder if she said something to her husband. Reprimanded him, cried for his son, grieved a childhood and life that could’ve been.

But she doesn’t say any of it, and neither do you mention it. You only agree, “It will be. Are we still making jam tomorrow?”

“Yes. Tell Jungkook he can come if he wants to.”

“Yeah… I was thinking that, too.” You stare down to your food, never noticing how she peeks past your shoulder. Sees her son unmoving on the floor; she knows she can’t do more than you are right now. So she only nods when you repeat, “Thank you so much.”

You wish her a good night, bringing the food to where your boyfriend sits. Put it down in front of him.

“Sit upright, baby?” you ask him, crushed by the sight of swollen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. His lips are parted, his breathing still stagnant; he only stares at his food until you push the tray closer to him and say, an attempt at a smile, “Let’s eat a bit. Mother-in-law brought it for us.”

No smile back, but a sniffle. The crying subsides just a bit as a shaking hand grabs the spoon, slurping the soup before he can even think of the noodles. He eats a little, slowly, surely. You help when he needs it, feed him a bite, encourage him to one more.

Every other minute, he cries again. You wipe the tears away, try to make him eat more.

His father fucked him up. You knew about the issues and demons Jungkook combatted. Of course his mentality suffered; of course there are parts of him that might never heal… But you never quite understood the full effect. 

His father fucked him up good; got him so bad. Parts of both of them are so ultimately ruptured, aren’t they?

Whenever he winds down, you eat in silence, right there on the ground on top of the old carpet. When he can’t swallow anymore, still some left in his bowl — Jungkook barely ever doesn’t finish his food — you move up to the bed with him.

You kiss his hair repeatedly, as if it could heal him just a little, to even the tiniest percentage. You don’t know how much of an effective bandage you are to him, but you know you’re doing at least something.

Because he whispers another I love you before the gut-wrenching sounds of his sobs have finally faded out, still echoing in the room. His tiny, shrunk voice says, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow with you.”

And somehow, it pains you even more. The hopeful tone; the wish for a day to not hurt.

“Me too, baby,” you say, “it’s nobody but us, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.”

And that’s it. It’s all you can do for now; understanding the heavy heart the night cursed you with.

But as you drift away, you keep pleading. Pleading and pleading and pleading for a better tomorrow without getting a promise back.

To your chagrin but least of your surprise, Jungkook doesn’t join your jam-making session the next morning.

When you stirred awake for a little bit, eyes still sleep-drunk and body falling, your phone flashed seven thirty in the morning. Not ready to start the day yet and doubting anybody else had gotten out of bed, you cuddled into his body, and he, while deep in his slumber, must still have noticed.

Pulled you in more, smacking his lips and sighing a little, a warm hand at the back of your head. Secured in his embrace, you fell asleep again.

Only to awake two hours later without him by your side. You’re already washed up and somewhat sobered up from sleep, and you’ve looked on the first and ground floor. You can’t find him.

His mother informed you that she and her husband would be leaving to join the wedding earlier, to help out with the preparations and make sure the plans all sit. You offered your help, but she claimed they’d be okay, and that you can still use the morning after the jam lesson to rest.

Perhaps Jungkook has embarked on a journey then, using this time to do something in the early morning. 

Once you’ve walked into the kitchen, greeting his mother with a smile and a good morning, you ask, “Nervous for the wedding?”

“Mmmh, kind of,” she answers, locking the phone she held, putting it aside to sip her tea, “but it should be good since we took care of most of the stuff pretty well. It’ll be wonderful. Except the damn Wedding March — we couldn’t settle on any song but this.”

“I can’t wait. I bet it’ll be beautiful.” You take a seat in front of her, hearing the sounds of the TV and quiet conversations. Among the voices, you recognise two, but his is neither of them. You’re not interested in joining. So you look at her, scratching your temple as you inquire instead, “Where’s Kook gone?”

Her forefinger points downwards, another blow to the tea and another swig. “Basement. I brought him some coffee, but he seemed busy and quiet, so I left him there. But,” her voice grows louder, enthusiastic, “you can go! Maybe he’ll be okay with that?”

Hmm…

“What did he go down for?” you ask.

“I think he was looking for something.” Now, she lowers her tone again, lower arms on the table. “He also just… did that sometimes when he was younger, or after a fight.”

After a fight.

Like the breakdown last night. You understand.

You should probably walk down and check — but then again, this has seemingly been a coping mechanism ever since he was younger. So perhaps, you need to let him be for a little; give him a chance to entangle his thoughts and regain some peace.

You repeat your decision to her and she nods in understanding, throwing a glance to a huge jar on the kitchen counter. You’re ready to deliver an answer before she even asks, “Want to help out then?”

“Sure!”

The process is a patient one. Reminds you of when Jungkook told you how to pick the strawberries yesterday; gently, sweetly, with a tender touch and an even more delicate voice.

Jungkook’s mother takes the fruits out of the jar with care, explains to you to mash them and cook the jam with absolute soothing composure. The minutes pass so serenely that you imagine preparing meals with her on a cold winter evening, pleasing your soul to ensure not only a good night’s sleep but lasting quiet of the soul, too.

You add the sugar and lemon juice to your mix, stirring and boiling the delicatesse before you put it in sterilised jars. She shows you how to sterilise them at all; you didn’t think or know that such a step was necessary at all.

The making of it doesn’t take too long; forty-five minutes tops. As you scanned the internet just before entering the kitchen almost an hour ago, it said it takes barely half an hour. But she demonstrated it all to you slowly, unrushed.

You’re thankful.

“Have you ever made jam before?” she asks as you admire your creation.

You shake your head. “No… I don’t think I’ve tried such a thing at all. It’s fun making things on your own. I mean, I do like to cook sometimes, but I’m nowhere on Jungkook’s level, I don’t think.”

She chuckles, nodding as if to confirm. Then clarifies, “Yes, he’s enjoyed being involved in the kitchen ever since he was a teen. Especially before he left town and realised he’d have to cook on his own.”

You giggle with her, like with a friend or a trusted figure. It’s so consoling, talking to her. Fun, smiles intact, still present when she asks, “How are the two of you doing? I mean, you did move in together quite fast, so I’m just wondering.”

Yes; she doesn’t need to spell it out. You get it — you’ve heard about this.

So-called relationship experts claim that taking decisions in the honeymoon phase isn’t too healthy, warping your sense of reality and perception of the other person. You don’t disagree, but you guess in this case…

“Honestly, it’s been good,” you respond. “We have a couple heated evenings where we argue about stuff, but… it’s been healing. And he offered to move in when I really needed it.”

“Yes, Jungkook told me.” Oh. “You weren’t at a very good place before. Please don’t mind.” You shake your head in reassurance, urging her to go on. It’s his mother; it’s fine to tell her if any of you is struggling. “I’m glad you’re there for each other because he wasn’t at a good place either.”

You nearly don’t dare to ask; in a way, she might know her son better than you know your boyfriend. Maybe; maybe not. You fear a disheartening answer when you ask, “Do you think he is now?”

But she, careful as ever, tells you honestly, “It’ll probably take time to get over things, but— it’ll be okay. Things seem a little better, though, if you want my neutral POV.”

“Ah… okay. That helps.” You play with the white-dotted red band around the jar. Your mind circles around a million questions that only she might be able to answer; yet, cautiously, all you query is, “Do you ever… have you ever spoken to him? Or his dad? About all the things…”

You reckon that if he’s talked about the two of you before, he probably mentioned spilling his secrets to you, too. At least from your perspective, it’s obvious that he entrusts her with his heart.

And once again, she affirms, “I have. Often. Even before the two of you came. It’s why I told you to take your time getting here.”

Ah… Makes sense now. So that’s why you had to roam the hotel until noon a couple days before. You sigh.

She continues, “It just doesn’t end well most of the time, so… And I’m not a good talker. I don’t know what to say anymore after so many years. Both want me on their side, though Jungkook never persists on it.”

She’s so wrong. Both she and him.

Jungkook has told you for months that he’s bad with words; yet, he comes in with every word ever written by any bard, singing poetry to you and bandaging your heart when needed.

You remember…

I’m not good with words, baby. And I don’t know how to ever properly verbalise something like this.

You sigh again. Tell her, “I understand. I also wouldn’t expect you to go against either of them.”

“Sure. But… It's difficult sometimes. Seeing how broken some of our bonds are.”

You’ve used and formed this word so many times before. Broken. For him, for you, for the world. Hearing somebody else share these sentiments and confirm your fears hurts.

And you’re out of words, wishing for a higher power to grant you a curing skill. If you could lift somebody’s burden with a single touch, just the way you’re reaching out for her hand now, you’d be busy circling the globe at all times.

“I’m so sorry,” is all, however, you can offer.

You hate how helpless she is. You urge to say something more, to hug her and promise that the world always regains its colours at some point. But you remain like this, watching the jam in the jars; hearing her say—

“You know. Jungkook has my number. I don’t know how much you and your mother still talk, but… you can talk to me, too, if you ever need to. I mean, I’m a mother.” She laughs at this part, raising a shoulder to her chin in pride, “And you’re part of him, so you can be part of us, too.”

Your eyes, locked onto the jar until now, flit up to her, and you blink to keep them dry, admitting without another thought, “I might actually cry.”

“Oh. Awh,” she voices, lifting her hand from underneath yours to cover it again. “Don’t. I didn’t mean to be all kitsch. I meant it.”

Gathering your prior thoughts into words, you puff out a breath, sporting a reprimanding look as you say, “You’re so wrong. You and your son, you always know what to say.”

Teeth flash again as she grins; she looks so innocent and pure. “Well, where do you think he got it from?”

Shit…

“Thank you…” you mutter, body already twitching, yearning to bolt forwards until you finally dare to ask, “Okay. May I… Can I hug you?”

“My goodness, love. You don’t need to ask! C’mere.”

You instantly tear up when she pulls you in. Last time you met, she left a fleeting touch. You barely knew her then; in some way, you don’t know her much now, either. But this… this is impactful.

The way she presses you into her; her chin on your shoulder. The slight pat and then the following rub up and down your shoulder blade. So warm; so salving.

One or two more pats, with a little more impact this time, she gently moves you back by your arms again, sucking in a breath as she suggests, “Alright. Wedding time, yes? We should start getting ready.”

“Yes. But…” You hesitate, wonder how much you can interfere. But then you diminish your mental concerns, and simply utter, “If you don’t mind. May I suggest something?”

You walk down the steps to the basement.

The light is on; other than what mainstream movies might suggest, they’ve set up the interior of the basement prettily. The few furniture — a table and a couch chair, as well as a couple common chairs — is a light beige, the wallpapers light, flowery.

He’s in the middle of the room, on the ground despite the many options to sit, sifting through pictures and objects lying around him. When he detects you, he flinches a bit, eyes big, moving suspiciously as if to hide something.

But you guess he’s just startled; and once he catches himself, he calls your name, wishing a sweet, “Morning, baby. Sorry for leaving the bed.”

“Oh, hey. It’s your house, you can do whatever you like. Besides, your mom and I had the time of our lives.”

He smiles brightly. You love, love, the wrinkles around his eyes. “Made some groundbreaking jam, yes?”

“You’ll see when you taste it.” You walk closer, recognising photo albums and frames. Yet, you ask, “What are you doing?”

“Uhmmm, just looking through old stuff.”

The pictures are flipped, upside down from where you stand, so you round his body, legs folded on the floor. You come to a kneel, and just when you’re close enough, you see the pure sugar spilled in front of him.

It’s in the form of fat baby cheeks. An open, surprised mouth. Then, in form of a photograph of a toddler crying. The same tremendous eyes and the same curve of his upper lip. A tilted smirk on one of them, just the one you know.

They’re adorable. You dissolve at the sight; at seeing him in a red vest, holding a half chewn corndog, tiny fingers forming a peace sign, and an unsure expression as if he’s seeing the world for the first time.

He does this often. Zone off like this.

Not rarely do you tease that he’s trudging through his first life, but he often refutes your theory with an immediate expression of shock. Chuckles back that it never feels like he’s loving you for the first time.

“Why are you looking at these, Kook?” you ask, hands on his shoulder before you settle your chin on one of them, cheek to cheek.

“Just so. I knew there was a picture of my cousin somewhere, too. Look.” He shoves aside some of the photographs on top, fishing out a very old one. “This is her. Gayoung.”

A lovely girl next to him, clearly older. They’re both holding car toys; he’s busy indulging in it, laughing, not noticing the flashing of the camera. But she’s staring right into it, caught off guard, eyebrows high and mouth open.

“I can’t believe she’s getting married today,” Jungkook says. “She’s like a daughter to my parents, but… I didn’t get to talk that much with her anymore when she grew into an adult. Was more with Ria. And then I moved, too. But… it’s still crazy. I still remember her as a young but older sister.”

“Of course. Time’s pace of passing is pretty strange. Very fast.”

“Yeah…”

He throws it back into the pile, shutting two of the handful of photo albums. Humming, he flips a couple pages of a third album; your eyes follow as he combs through them. You almost don’t notice when he pauses, and when you do, you understand why.

It’s another old picture, Jungkook tiny, mouth wide open to say something as he points towards the camera slash photographer. And he’s in the arms of somebody who’s undeniably his father. The man looks more like Junghyun than Jungkook.

But they seem happy here. His big hands are firm on Jungkook’s body, holding him lovingly and smiling at him with even further tenderness.

Jungkook remains on it for only a split second, but you get it.

You replay his mother’s words in your mind, and suddenly, you remember; a revelation clears up like a sunny day after a fog, and God… you remember.

And still, you act like you don’t. Like you haven’t understood that he’s here to reminisce about a life when things were still okay; when he still felt loved. Reliving moments when shit hurt less. Of course he’s here; it makes sense, so directly after a fight.

He seeks comfort in moments he barely remembers to escape the pain he recently suffered.

You’re out of damn words. This shouldn’t be happening to anybody.

You hug him from behind, arms around his chest. Attempting to ease his possibly disturbed soul, you ask, “Hey. Do you know that you’re the sweetest being alive? These pictures cause cavities. Good that you kept them from me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He turns his head slightly, lips grazing your nose, warm breath falling on it. “Coming from my munchkin herself.”

“I mean it! You’re so cute. And look at these cheeks,” your finger gestures towards a chubby baby, “they’re still so soft, by the way.”

You press your face against his, squishing his scarred cheek, and he states under a laugh, “You’re too much.”

“Too much of a fool for you, yes.”

He clicks his tongue, though playfully. You hear in his voice and see in his beam that he’s delighted, flattered, loving and loved. You ask, “Are you feeling okay now?”

To your relief, he nods. “I’m feeling better, I guess. Looking forward to the wedding. And your dress!”

“Oh, I am, too. I was going to show it to your mom just before, but… I want you to be the first to see it.”

“And then you say I’m not the luckiest man alive.”

“I just said Ashton Kutcher is. Mila Kunis is pretty cool.”

“Shut up.”

You pause, watch him tidy up; after a minute, you tell him, “You should’ve joined when we made the jam. Could’ve been fun, too.”

“Yeah… I mean I thought about it, but. Then I was like, maybe it’d be good for her to get to know you, like, unfiltered. She’s always careful not to be weird around me.”

“Ah. That’s kinda sweet, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

You nod against his cheek; then, drum lightly against his chest, a peck to his ear, getting to your feet a second later as you ask, “So… are you coming up? It’s a little after eleven. We should probably get ready soon.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up in some. You should go first, though. I’ll need a bit less time.”

You’re already taking steps towards the staircase leading up, but you can’t refrain from throwing one last tease, “You sure? Not sure with your skincare routine. Have you even eaten?”

“Yes, I did. Don’t be a brat.”

You lift your lips to a last provoking, tight-lipped smile before you ascend to his room. The dress is still almost flawless between your clothes. You heavily worried about damage in the few days you travelled, but aside from a few spots that need to be ironed out, it’s as gorgeous as ever.

Flattening out the creases with a borrowed iron, you soon rummage in your suitcase for the curling iron and the rest of your make up. You look at the mess scattered on Jungkook’s table, wondering where to start.

Make up, probably.

Okay. you have one, two chances max to try what you want to achieve. The goal is to remain casual, natural and humble; considering your dress, you cannot overdo it. You don’t want to look excessively over the top. Want to keep your essence under the make up.

So you keep it lowkey, pretty much content with the results before you slip into the dress.

And when you look into the mirror, you nearly squeal. You don’t struggle with your appearance. But while you’ve largely been satisfied with how you look, you did occasionally find things to possibly improve.

Normal. Doesn’t everyone deem certain spots flaws, regardless of whether they actually are?

But today… today you’re sparkling. You’re happy; in love with what you accomplished.

If you could, you’d immediately rush down to him again, show you the results. But it seems you don’t need to — because half a minute later, you make out his voice outside. He’s talking to his brother, laughing about something; seems the rest of the family is leaving. The door shuts just before you hear him moving up the stairs with quick steps.

And… when he finally opens the ajar door to his own room, his body locks at the spot, as if somebody screwed his feet into the wooden floor.

The reaction is easily imagined; most often seen on TV. You didn’t know how real it was, but then again, clichés always have an origin in real life, don’t they?

You’re surprised, a little shy by how he looks at you. And how he looks in general — black trousers hugging his snatched waist and well-formed hips. The white dress shirt is still in progress, collars up, suit jacket not yet on.

And he’s olding something in his hand that you can’t recognise.

He looks breathtaking and mesmerising, despite missing half of the preparation still. Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he feel the same about you? Probably.

Because he curses, “What the fuck.”

Like a statement, not a question. You touch the silky soft material of your dress, widening your eyes as your quiet voice asks, “What?”

“What are you even?”

You burst out into a brief, fleeting laugh at the question, repeating, “What I am?”

“Like, a fairy or something. Shit, it’s as if I’m getting married.”

Another near-squeak falls out of you. But you can’t blame him this time; you chose this attire carefully.

The sheer chiffon fabric, light and airy, sparkling; it called your name the moment you saw it. Floor length, lavender, spilling to the floor like a waterfall; a spicy slit on the side that Jungkook’s eyes remained on for just a tiny heartbeat longer, you know.

And off-the-shoulder sleeves; most of the back bare.

Sheepishly, you ask, “So you like it?”

“Like, I—” he starts, yet stops. He blows a raspberry. “You’re so pretty. You’re the prettiest. Oh my God,” he exclaims, dramatically touching his forehead, “I need to keep other’s eyes off you. Look at you!”

You laugh out loud, a hand on his wrist to keep your balance, no other productive response in your bright pink entangled mind than, “Babe—”

“No, seriously. Okay, I concur. It was right for me to wait to see you in the dress. Getting a heart attack as we speak.”

Your cheeks still glow brightly when you wiggle a finger at him, disappointed that there is no reality show camera pointing at you to hear you say, “If your boyfriend doesn’t react like this, girl, you don’t want him.”

You instinctively move to the buttons of his sleeve, helping out, resisting the urge to give in and fix his collar, too. You want to see the end result so badly, but he’s still missing the tie and the jacket. 

So you settle on merely touching the buttons over his chest, nodding as if approving before you say, “You already look so good, too. You know, maybe it’s you who should hide behind me today. What if some middle school girl crushing on you jumps you?”

He chuckles. “They can try.”

“They? Well, shit.”

“I’m kidding.” He lowers his chin, bringing your knuckles to his rosy lips, kissing one or two of them. “Hide me, then.”

“Mhm… Do you need help getting ready? With the tie or something?”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can lean back for a bit, tell me a story or something? I shouldn’t take too long.”

It’s a ritual of sorts. Sometimes, when you wait for the other on a date or dinner night, the faster one acts as the night’s entertainer. Sings songs or tells stories or plays DJ or serves the latest, hottest work tea.

You tell him, “Okay. But before I do,” your hand wanders down to his; it’s stubbornly closed around an object, dangling on his side. You uncurl his fingers. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, I…” He comes to life, as if he forgot that he was holding it at all. He lifts it between your faces, straightening his palm, and presents you something incredibly sparkly and nostalgic. “It’s part of the reason I went down at all. With my mom’s permission since she wore it at her prom…”

Damn it. Both of them deceived you.

“You were looking for it?” He nods; your heartbeat accelerates as you urge, “And…”

“And I got it for you.”

Words, you notice, are only your specialty when you’re jotting them down and narrating a story from within your mind. When it comes to answering to the grand gestures he always makes you fall in love with, you’re such a zero.

Odd, considering how he, in contrast, has claimed over and over again that he’s not as eloquent as he’d like to be. But you’ve long figured out that if he was to preach the truths he holds in his heart to an audience, the stage would drown in a flood of tears within minutes.

You reach for the shiny, pearly, flowery accessory. It’s rose-gold, a little vintage, clearly older, and so strikingly beautiful. It looks like…

“A comb… for me,” you say. Not the one to untangle your hair. The decorative type; fancy and gorgeous. He nods again, lets you take it between your fingers. “Why?”

“Just,” a shrug of his shoulder, “I wanted to give you a little something to remind you of this place and the love you got here. Besides, it’d look so pretty on you.”

A reminder that you’re loved. You wonder — who thinks of these things? Does anyone else in this universe heat up their girl’s chest like your boyfriend does?

They can tell you what they want; you’re the luckiest being alive. And in return, you want to love him as much as nobody has ever loved before.

You whisper, “Thank you, Kook… Your mom is okay with this?” Another enthusiastic nod of confirmation. “Thank you so much. I— I wish you could see yourself the same way.” You squeeze it in your hand to feel it properly, then open it again. “This is so pretty.”

“It’ll suit you.”

“Yes?” Softly, you hand it back to him, turning to the mirror, with him right behind you. “Do you want to put it in?”

“Ah… I can try.”

“Right there?” You point to the back of your head; to the braid in your loose half updo. “Near the hair pins I used. The comb might hide them well, too.”

And he does his best. Regards your hairdo focused, eyebrows knitting in concentration, so gentle with it. No getting stuck, no intentional tugging.

“Wait,” he then says, tapping his trouser’s pocket, and then fishes out his phone for a picture. He shows it to you; the accessory sits there perfectly, not crooked or ruining a single wisp of hair. “How’s that?”

“You did it so well. Thank you, Koo.” You face him again, smile bright and endless. “Your turn?”

“Yes.” He rubs his hands, looking around. “Let’s get this over with. Give me feedback, okay? And tell me a story?”

You take a seat at the edge of his bed prettily, coming up with a short tale about personified instruments and what they’d symbolise. The guitar for the heart and the love in it, the drums for thunder and the excited pulse of the soul.

“The flute for the breeze and dreams?” Jungkook adds.

And you urge in a thrilled tone, “And the violin for the rain and longing. They’d learn from each other, right?” You sigh. “I’ll think about the piano, too. Can’t figure it out yet… it could be a lot.”

Jungkook nods, distracted and interrupting the story when he asks for brief comments on his progress. Barely any feedback, though; praises largely.

You watch as he slips into the rest of his clothing and gels his hair back — it’s grown quite a bit since the press conference in September. You get to your feet, amped up when he finally claps and rubs his hands in anticipation a bit later, announcing that he’s ready to leave.

And you’re still euphoric when you jump into your car, letting him drive through the streets he knows much better. His fingers wander to the passenger seat every now and then; minutes after the last scolding, you keep reminding him to keep his hands on the wheel.

I want to kiss you so bad, but your damn make up won’t let me today, huh?

A tease here, a flirt there.

You feel like you could do anything. The sky's the limit. And it soon proves that the statement has never rang truer, even if in a vastly different context now.

Because once you reach the wedding — your metaphorical sky —, Ria is already standing at the parking lot, waving the moment she spots the two of you stepping out of the car. From afar, you already see the wedding’s venue; a lake in the back, a huge tent and a field at the front.

The parking lot right next to it, but still a couple minutes of a trek away.

Ria’s parents indulge Jungkook in a conversation about something you barely register right away, and she gestures towards herself, hugging and greeting you with an odd half-smile.

“You look so pretty,” she says, and you beam benignly, returning the compliment.

She’s rocking a dark blue dress, sleeveless, her hair in a loose bun. Wavy strands frame her face. But somehow, she looks demotivated. Worried to the slightest, though still mostly cheerful. So you ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I just wanted to tell you something. But don’t freak out, okay?”

Well, shit. Doesn’t start as you imagined, does it? You glimpse over to Jungkook. He’s laughing from the heart, button nose crunched; why is she not telling him, too?

Your chest feels tighter; the usual human response to a menacing statement such as hers. You upright yourself, take a deep breath, ground yourself as you encourage, “Yes? I won’t. What’s up?”

“Well… we’re in this town and like, people know each other. And since we’re all in a very close circle here, I just wanted to say that,” her face changes; she kind of grimaces, as if apologetic for something, “Nara came, too.”

Ah.

Ah…

The sky's the limit, and you reached it, and now you’re kind of crashing.

Well. You never thought about this; but it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Of course she’d be here. She was part of this town and Jungkook’s life for so many years, so naturally, she’d be familiar with his relatives, too.

Besides, even if she hadn’t been with him… Didn’t Jungkook and Ria already establish with you just yesterday, when you were inhaling your ice cream, that this small town strives on familiarity?

Meetings at the town hall, the shop owners’ affection for most of their year-long customers. The Stars Hollow vibe you already recognised.

Ahhh…

So that’s what Junghyun might have been trying to tell you on the first day, too. You remember his mother interrupting.

How annoying. You did not want to feel annoyed. Maybe it would’ve been better if Ria hadn’t told you; if you’d bumped into Nara randomly and suffered the temporary heart attack. Or perhaps, you wouldn’t have seen her at all…

Come on. Unrealistic.

Fuck, you feel childish. There shouldn’t be any burning in your chest or an uncomfortable warmth in your cheek. You shouldn’t be feeling the urge to run over to Jungkook, to actually hide him behind you.

To rush to his ear, whisper your worries, make him promise that he only loves you and won’t ride into the sunset with her.

Delusional, paranoid concerns that you wouldn’t entertain on any normal, sane day; then again, the news Ria delivered wasn’t going to leave you unbothered anyway. This whole thing around exes really sucks.

“I… I shouldn’t spiral, though, right?” you answer, your voice a little weaker. Ria immediately nods, though still not relaxing the wrinkle between her eyebrows. “I mean, of course she’d be here. This is her place, she was born here and…”

Ria takes your hands in hers, assures, “I promise you it’s nothing too bad, okay? Nara and Jungkook have been here at the same time before and literally nothing happened.”

What? When?

“When?” you echo.

“Uh, like last summer? He only came down for a couple days, though. College exams and stuff.”

Ah… you wouldn’t even know. Back then, you’d only encountered him once, at the blurry frat party that you spent in locked rooms and on tiled roofs. When you sang together and spilled your hearts to each other.

For the very first time.

Whatever he did before or after that… how would you know?

Only, you feel even sicker at the thought that after that party, and after he allegedly met Nara here again without anything literally happening, he still linked with her back in the city. Still shared his nights and sheets with her.

Does this count as nothing happening? What if the time here evoked something? What if it happens again?

Fuck, what if it happens again?

“I’m going to panic,” you tell Ria.

“What? No,” she exclaims, though instantly lowering her voice, rubbing your arm soothingly, “it’s okay, I promise. He didn’t even think of it. Either that or he doesn’t care ‘cause he didn’t mention her once.”

“But now I might keep thinking about it.”

“Seriously. Fuck, I feel bad for saying it—”

“No… no, it’s okay. You should’ve.”

“Okay, look. It’s honestly fine. She’s nice, she won’t do anything shady; not if she knows about y’all.” Another caressing touch to your shoulder. “I just wanted to warn you. Please don’t feel startled. I’m here, okay? I’ll smash his nose if anything happens.”

She looks to the side. The other conversation has seemingly ended, too, and you swallow as Ria’s parents wave her over. She says, “Okay. Gotta go, but I’ll meet you guys inside and reserve seats, okay? There’s just limited assigned seating.”

She pats your coat-clad arm, and then walks away. 

Well. Okay.

You guess you’ll have to get over this one way or another. You focus on your clothing. Focus on how you look, how Jungkook looks. The weather, the tent many many feet away. Your boyfriend’s gaze on you as he walks back to you, offering his hand.

He pauses when he sees you, asking, “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Yes. Just nervous, I think.”

“Me too.” He flashes the sweetest grin known to mankind, genuinely excited, childlike joy. Tilts his head at you. “You seriously look so fucking pretty. Like really, really.”

You smile.

Okay…

It should be alright. Jeon Jungkook is so in love with you; damn it, he even peels your oranges for you when you don’t feel like doing it. You need to trust the process; need to hold onto your excitement.

Okay.

You glance at the event warming up in the far. Halfway through, people have gathered, standing on the grass or the man-made path. There’s still a bit of time; so naturally, they’re still busying themselves with conversations.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You’ve met her before. This isn’t different.

You look down to where his and your fingers intertwine; put particular attention to the way he holds you. Firmly, as if protecting and loving and keeping you close at the same time.

His smile lifts your spirits a little, the wind enclosing your mind and easing it. You nod only slightly, telling yourself it’ll all be good — and then, let him tug you towards the wedding.

The wedding is as bustling as you expected. It’s bright, colourful, flowers draped over the place in abundance. Even before you enter it, the huge tent leaves you breathless, gasping.

They put so much effort into this; it’s clear as day. Jungkook’s mother isn’t around, but the moment you lay your eyes on her again, you’ll praise her for what she helped mount. Somehow, the beauty nearly makes you forget that you’re among pure strangers.

But that at least one familiar face is roaming here somewhere.

You take a deep breath.

All these people know each other. They probably grew up together, know the ins and outs of the town, have gathered at weddings and funerals and school events. You don’t know how well you’ll be able to integrate, but you do hope for their support.

It’s not too much to ask, you reckon.

At least not when Jungkook pulls at your hand and the two of you into certain directions, coming to a stand multiple times when he sees a person or two calling him to them. Some are old school friends; some adults he knew when he was a child.

Candy store owners. Somebody who sold him his first scooter. Or a pal he used to share his banana milk with.

The sentiments are clearly there and they bask in them, but none of them ever forgets about you. Jungkook introduces you, tugs you into his side, enskies you with praise. And they respond with kindness and interest; tell you he’s mentioned you before.

You remember. Jungkook told you how his friends spoke about you or saw you on TV, eager to meet you — they react according to the excitement he foretold, and you reciprocate it with ease. Very sweet.

Yet, it seems that even in a small town, or especially in a small town, enmity runs just as deep as affection. Some people remember friendships, others still resent rotten memories.

You soon meet the first one of the latter kind.

He’s standing near the entrance of the spacious tent; you glance inside, unsuspecting, not a single familiar face in sight. You don’t notice him until Jungkook does, coming to a stand, walk interrupted as the guy exclaims, “Jeon Jungkook! My goodness, Jungkook—”

You meet thick eyebrows, long-ish dark hair, full lips. He’s handsome, his smile bright. 

And his voice is mellow and sweet, and at certain tones, it reminds you of Jimin’s; then again, some syllables come out much deeper. You don’t know who he is; of the pictures Jungkook has shown you, he wasn’t in any of them.

“Hey,” Jungkook greets, somewhat distant. You don’t think standing here is his first choice, but your boyfriend is as polite as can be. Even waves towards the guy, and tells you, “This is Christian. Barom, but he lives in Australia now, so.”

“Hi,” you reach out a hand, “nice to meet you.”

The accent is heavy and somehow cursive when he responds, “Likewise.”

Jungkook is definitely not delighted about him. Follows the touch of your hands, then your gaze up to Christian’s face. You notice it before Jungkook can probably even think of it: the odd look the stranger throws at you.

Up and down. Smile telling. Uncomfortable.

And when Jungkook suddenly does catch it, he intervenes, “You came all the way from Sydney?”

“Yep. And you came over from the city?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers. You barely register it, but you’re certain he’s been pushing you behind him inch by inch; but you remain at your spot. You can deal with this. “We were on vacation before, but I was gonna come anyway.”

“Nice. And wait, sorry, you were…?”

You recall never introducing yourself; but you’re positive he’s figured out your relationship to Jungkook just by the steadfast grip around your palm. But Jungkook still officially voices your name and informs him, “My girlfriend.”

Christian must be seeing or hearing something you aren’t — strange since it was him who asked — but he laughs, teasing, “You’re being defensive.”

“I’m not. I literally just told you she’s my girlfriend.”

“Lucky. You look pretty together.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You have not a single clue what’s going on. Jungkook is never really rude, so there must be something about this Barom or Christian — he’s never mentioned him before.

Then again, you guess growing up in a tight space comes with all sorts of relationships. Christian is probably the sort that never earns a mention until actually met with the person themselves.

It’s funny though — in some way, the rejection seems one-sided. As if Jungkook is still holding something against him and Christian remains uncaring; while it might not be a universal truth, you’ve experienced that those utterly calm are often the ones at fault.

And Jungkook isn’t an angry human being. He’s kind. Patient. Needs a reason to be mad.

Christian doesn’t take the hint when he smiles, a heavily tattooed hand patting Jungkook on his shoulder as he suggests, “See you later then? Let’s take a picture or get a drink afterwards.”

Jungkook only stalls for the tiniest seconds, but you know him — he’s probably already made up his mind. You look between the men, baffled by the nearly visible bolts shooting from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Sure,” Jungkook eventually says, your hand still in his, and works on moving to the coat check and then to the chairs without adding anything else.

You don’t inquire yet what this was about as you walk, catching glimpses of the priest, of the stranger guests and of the people lingering at the front of the tent. You’re busy gauging Jungkook’s eyebrows, observing as they relax more the further he gets away from the guy.

And neither do you need to pop the question when you’ve settled somewhere in the middle-ish, you on his right side, Ria on the other. Next to her, her parents that you briefly met when you brought her home yesterday.

Previously turned on her seat, she now uprights her body, hooking her arm with Jungkook’s as she whispers to him, yet clearly enough for you to hear, “Was that Yu Barom?”

Jungkook nods. “Christian Yu now. Yup.”

“Right.”

They nod, understanding each other wordlessly, but you’re still floating in between a couple theories and the actual sentiments. So you lean in; you’ve become one of the gossipers at a wedding, you guess.

“Okay,” you start; the two of them stare at you with the same big puppy eyes. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“Oh, we don’t,” Jungkook bluntly admits.

“Why?”

Jungkook smacks his lips. Eyes drift to the roof of the tent, the polyester fabric swaying in the gust. Then, they shift to his cousin, presumably seeking approval, because she shrugs her shoulders, gesturing with her hand and says, “Oh, go ahead.”

So he explains, “His little cousin was a constant problem for Ria. Same age… harassed her and all. Constant flirting and phone calls and didn’t take the hint, just an uncomfortable dude in general.” He pauses, shaking his head. “I had to threaten him for him to get lost. And Christian didn’t like that.”

Okay, now you definitely feel like somebody indulging in tittle-tattle. Some more and you’ll be one of the aunties. Your mouth gradually opens as he speaks, and you emphasise, “No way.”

“It’s true— the guy was on a break from college for just a month and decided to argue with a fifteen-year-old.”

“What? Did you get into a fight with him?”

“Nah.” He pauses when a group of random three girls in green dresses walks along the aisle, even though they’re barely facing you, sending a perfumed breeze towards you. Then, “Not a physical one. But it was a bit messy. Didn’t like that night.”

“Me neither,” Ria confirms.

Of course he didn’t like it.

He’s largely non-confrontational. You’ve learned this much in the time you’ve known him, and have given the fact utmost sense ever since he revealed his innermost fears. Jungkook keeps quiet; he dreads repetitions of a direful past.

Yet, initiating and risking a conflict for his baby cousin increases the respect you harbour for him.

People are cruel; but Jeon Jungkook is good-hearted to his core, no matter how flawed.

You touch the back of his hand, caressing it when he says, “Stay with me tonight, okay? And if you can’t, then do come to me when he nears you.”

“Okay.”

His eyes meet yours, concerned but also suspiciously fiery when he states, “Because like, I really didn’t like how he was looking at you.”

Ah…

“Hm?”

“You didn’t notice?” he asks, his voice higher, thick eyebrows closing into each other again. You lift a thumb, clearing the crease and his stress. “I almost plucked his eyes out.”

Of course you noticed. You just didn’t think it irritated Jungkook to this point.

“Oh— Kook—”

“No seriously,” he stresses, turning his hand to get ahold of two of your fingers, “guy was sweet half his life and then tried stuff with so many girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if he approached you again, so please stay away from him, okay?”

“Yes, baby. But I wouldn’t let him do shit anyway. Don’t worry.” You nudge his shoulder. “And don’t be jealous. Have you seen yourself?”

He rolls his eyes at the accusation, but there’s a sliver of a smile on his face and relief in his gaze. You guess hearing you say it does wonders to him; sometimes, you truly praise the connection between you, based on a clear foundation of trust and communication.

Well… at least now.

“I’m not jealous,” he insists, “it was just gross how he looked at you. Fuck this. Not with my girl.”

You can’t help but break into a chuckle, way too loud for your row. You slap a hand over your mouth, careful not to ruin the lipstick, and nearly give into the urge to release his pout. But it’s too sweet — it can linger for a second.

Removing your hand, you near him until your mouth grazes his, assuring, “I love you,” before you peck his lips curtly. He still looks a little grumpy, though. Your man. “It’s okay, baby.”

The grip around your hand intensifies. It doesn’t seem it will vanish for the rest of the night. You sure hope it doesn’t.

And you’re immensely grateful for the luck you’re enjoying. Not only because of this place’s beauty and the palm holding onto yours — but you haven’t seen Nara either. In fact, you become hyper aware of how much you’ve been thinking of her.

Like; what is she wearing? How is she doing? Is she thinking about Jungkook; expecting him here; feeling a sort of way? Is she imagining his smile and how she saw it in this very town so many times, dedicated to her?

And did Christian ever flirt with her, too? Did it irritate Jungkook?

You’ve been thinking it all dead.

Unnecessarily so if Jungkook hasn’t even mentioned her, never sought her out. Instead, he’s busy protecting his girl from past bullies.

In all honesty, you’ll probably cross ways with her still. The guest list isn’t endless; the place vast but not infinite.

But for now, you forget about her, trashing all thoughts and possibilities. Shake your head. Breathe it out. Relieve your chest.

You diverge into conversations about anything and everything, reminiscing about yesterday and the places you saw. Listen into stories Ria and Jungkook tell: about injuries, about pleasant nights and about the fights they had.

Ria was like the sister Jungkook never had; Junghyun was a good older brother, but when seeking another opinion, she was on speed dial. Sometimes, growing up in a certain environment makes all the difference — hearing a girl’s thoughts at all times might have made Jungkook the way he is.

Thoughtful, respectful. You have encountered sexism a million times — not to mention just minutes ago, checked out so shamelessly — but you don’t think Jungkook has such a notion even in any crevice of his heart.

You’re fond and happy when they laugh together; her crinkles match his. Their laugh contagious.

It still echoes and fades, slowly and lovingly when the tent quietens. All heads turn, but you don’t see much from here. Maybe a couple moving bodies at the entrance. Someone coughs, interrupting the silence and lowering their head, and the moment allows you a peek at the sensation.

The bride is waiting, holding a bouquet. Her father is touching her veil to fix it despite having nothing to fix; but she doesn’t notice.

Gayoung is glancing ahead, breathing in. Everyone’s eyes remain on her, but your head turns to follow her eyes. The groom is already standing there in a standard groomesque position, hands folded, upright like a post.

He looks insanely nervous. His shiny boot taps the ground, lips parting and unparting. And he’s blinking; then forming a circle with his mouth, releasing the pent-up tension.

She hasn’t moved yet. The ceremony is yet to begin.

But even before all that, as people indulge in the sight and wait for their eternity to start, Jungkook has already mimicked your turn, fingers still intertwined. When he speaks, you flinch; you didn’t notice his voice this close.

He’s looking at the groom, too, before he settles his gaze on you. Stares with affection in his gems that bursts your heart, splinters your ribs and implodes your chest. You know he’ll say something to fade out the entire crowd before he actually says it.

“Can I tell you something mainstream?”

You hum, “Hm?”

He regards your digits, plays with them. “If you ever choose to marry me…” Your heart stops. “I’ll look just as tense as him.”

“Would you… want to marry me one day?”

“It’s just a thing people do, right?” he questions. “Whether it’s like this or in any other way— I’ll spend my life with you anyhow.”

I’ll spend my life with you.

Not a question. Not a need.

But a confession. A goal. A plan. 

You don’t get to answer when the first tunes of a guitar play. It’s a song you recognise; paints a smile onto your face. The melody is soft, slow, so gentle. They didn’t choose an orchestral track or the usual Wedding March after all.

It’s a song.

Jungkook’s eyes blow wide, and he immediately seeks yours. Mutters into your ear, “Do I know this?”

“You probably do.”

“Wait—” He listens in. Pupils roll up as he ponders. Then, “Didn’t someone sing this in the lobby this week?”

Almost. It’s why it delights you so. You already had half an idea back then, and you managed to somehow incorporate it into this wedding without really being part of these people.

“Yoongi played it on the guitar,” you clarify, “I suggested it to your mom this morning. I guess she liked it enough to forward the request so spontaneously.”

“You did? Then she must’ve…”

You can’t decipher what he’s thinking. His stare is fixated on the passing bride, her slow steps, the beam she wears as she nears whom she’s decided to be the rest of her life.

You can’t peep into his brain, but you notice when he tilts his head. See the tiny gap between his lips and the way he catches the groom blink away tears the moment you do, because Jungkook smiles at just the same moment as you do.

Gayoung lowers her head when she comes to a stand in front of his still-fiancé, and then delivers the most magnificent, most mesmerising grin. She’s happy, you know. You don’t think you’ve seen this intensity of joy a lot of times in your life.

You recognised it when Jungkook woke up still in your bed after the blue night. When he opened up to you, vowed to stay, brought you to his home. When you announced to the world that you’d be his to remain, that you’d do what you enjoy.

When you got home that evening, and he kissed you right against the door, deemed you crazy, deemed you his.

You haven’t seen this very happiness much in your life, but you’ve seen it in him. And you’ve felt it in your chest. Growing, blossoming, never wilting.

The couple at the front speaks its vows like a song. The words are melodic, poetic, and you’re almost entirely sure that they’re not rehearsed. It’s all real. The love in them and the memories in them, accompanied by the liquid bliss swimming in his and her waterline.

No, you haven’t experienced this too many times before. You’ve felt it. He’s felt it.

And you don’t need to know much more than this; don’t need to know what he’s thinking to understand what he means when he says—

“This… this is it.”

THE CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET!! PLS READ 👇🏼

1k block limit as always!! you can read the second half of the chapter in this reblog!! the reblog begins with a new scene <3

[yrqrnc]

biker!haechan as your boyfriend who you’re mad at (but are you, really?)

★: fluff fluff fluff fluff & a very sexy biker!lee haechan

m.list

( 𝟔 : 𝟓𝟎 𝐩𝐦 )

“i know you’re mad at me angel, but please. hold onto me, or you’re gonna fall off.” your boyfriend pleads as he glances at you for a quick second through the rear-view mirror of his bike.

“no.”

your answer is simple and sweet bitter. a classic sign for him to know how upset you actually are at him, no matter how silly or random the reason may be.

and see, the thing is, in a room full of stubborn people, you would be superior. that is one thing both you and haechan have known for a long time.

so it didn’t matter how sweetly he talked to you right now, if you’re upset, you are upset.

“babe.”

you can hear the frustration in his voice, and that pisses you even more because, how can he be frustrated?

you are.

you were furious.

he was the one who had been all careless about driving on your way to the café by speeding and doing those careless stunts with his damned bike to apparently “show off his amazing skills”, and on top of that, he was also the one who then proceeded to smile a little too unnecessarily sweetly and be a little too unnecessarily friendly to the new pretty friend of chenle, whom you guys had met on your group hangout today.

of course, those were reasons to be mad.

right?

because he was quite shameless about it too. complimenting her right in front of your face and thinking you didn’t catch him side-eyeing you every 2 seconds to see your reaction everytime he interacted with her?

you found him utterly annoying.

most of the time, it was affectionately, but today, your patience had been running short and he had pushed your buttons too far.

your boyfriend was aware of that, and he thought it quite cute, actually.

however, riding the bike as his pillion rider while being on that current speed of the bike could be quite dangerous, and he only wanted to assure your safety in that moment.

“just focus on driving, haechan. i won’t fall off”

“baby, you will.”

“oh my god,” you groan out in annoyance. he really wouldn’t stop.

“i said i won’t. you know what? look—”

his consistent “hold on to me”s eventually get on your nerves in your already sour mood, and you decide it would be best to just prove it to him;

show him that nothing will happen at all—for once—so that he can shut his pretty mouth up and get you both home quietly and hopefully, try to then make it up to you there.

and to do just that, you start trying to completely detach your body from his.

you just saw absolutely no need to hold onto him like he was pushing you to do.

you let your hands fly in the air as you shift back on your seat, away from him, to show him that he’s overreacting and you’re really not going to—

it takes about half and a quarter second for the furious wind to hit you harshly, rolling in along with the fast velocity of the bike, and you’re almost sent flying back off the vehicle.

almost.

in that panicked state of mind, you latch onto haechan’s back instantly, grabbing onto him like your life depended on it.

and it did, actually, for a second there.

your mind becomes so frenzied for a moment; you almost missed how, the moment you shifted away from him, he slowed down and one of his hands immediately flew back to reach you, in an attempt to hold you and pull you back to keep you safe and steady.

then, there’s a moment of silence.

there’s a painfully long moment of silence; only the rumbles of the engine of the bike to be heard.

you try to process what had just happened and how you just quite literally just embarrassed yourself with all the confidence you had about around 10 seconds ago, while he takes his time to calm himself down and steady himself and the bike after knowing you’re still there behind him.

the loud quietness is humiliating until he finally breaks it.

“...are you okay?” his voice comes out a little shaky as if, after the initial panic, he’s now trying to bite back a laugh, and you know he’s looking at you through the bike’s mirror again, with that stupid smirk etched onto his face.

“yes.”

this time, too, somehow, your reply is short and bitter sweet, and biker!haechan finds you absolutely adorable as you very slowly sneak your hands up his chest from the back in a tight hold, sticking closer to him, while you try your absolute best to not face him.

only for your own safety purposes, of course.

because— fine, alright. maybe he was not all that wrong when he’d instructed you. you’d tried to prove him wrong, and nature had just done you the other way around.

and frustratingly, yet once again, he thinks you don’t hear him when he stifles a laugh right in front of you.

“shut up. don’t.”

you mumble out, in poor attempt to keep up with the anger instead of the embarrassment that was swallowing you up right now.

but you’re really just pouting in the backseat and your boyfriend knows that.

you don’t know whether you want to jump off this damned bike willingly yourself now, or if you want to hide your face in his back and never show yourself again.

“mm. didn’t, angel.”

and you hate how you can hear that cocky smile on his face without having to look at him as he speaks.

dumb, dumb, and stupidly hot lee donghyuck.

you loathe him, and both of you know how true that stands.

“are you hungry? we can grab some takeout from that place you liked last time.” his voice is sweet as it always is, as he suggests.

but your mind is still a fuzzy swirl of embarrassment and irritation at him from earlier, and it ends up speaking something completely against your actual wants.

“no i’m fine.”

“baby,” he smiles softly as he glances at you once more, “is that your anger talking or you?”

“…”

“you don’t want that beef soup ramen from that place?”

“no, i don’t.”

and he just knows from your tone that you’re sulking behind him as you say this, your mind screaming something else completely.

( ★ )

“you want something to drink too?”

haechan asks exactly 17 minutes later as you both stand to order your ramen and chicken wings.

what had you been mad at him about, again?

[feinyan]

DATING HEADCANONS featuring. satoru gojo, itadori yuji, megumi fushiguro and toge inumaki.

some random small dating headcanons involving the jujutsu kaisen boys. no tags, just fluff. enjoy.

gojo, who would sacrifice the world and everyone in it for you. who knows the dangers of letting himself be so vulnerable with someone, but can't help but want to offer everything to you. he would do anything for your smile, for the moments you give him which he treasures so closely to his heart. gojo, who cannot keep his hands off of you. who, to be frank, does not understand the concept of personal space. whos constantly finding an excuse to slide his arm around your shoulder, your waist, or to hold your hand. gojo, who spoils you!!! so so so much. who sees something thats hellishly expensive that you'd even slightly like and doesn't think twice before buying it. who brings you bags of goodies or expensive designer stuff he thinks you'd look just right in when returning from overseas missions. gojo, who to no surprise, loves to tease to get reactions out of you. who doesn't know how to quit it. he's just so fond of your flustered face, or the way you stare at him with pouty eyes after he says something that makes your heart race. gojo, who loves to switch up the nicknames he uses on you. who calls you princess when you're pouty, or calls you ma'am when you're upset. who in a whiny, dragged out tone says "babyyyyy," when you say no to something stupid he suggests.

itadori, who is the most respectful, sweetest boy ever. it doesn't come as a surprise, but hes soooo polite with everything he does. he holds doors open for you, walks on the close-to-road part of the sidewalk when you walk together, holds your bags for you, or buttons up your jackets. small, yes, but meaningful things. itadori, who loves to take pictures of you!!! who is constantly changing his lockscreen to different photos of you, because ohhh, you're so cute and you look good in everything! he can't decide what to stick with. itadori, who is sooooo gentle with you. who knows he could hurt you on accident, and dies a little at the thought of that. he treats you with so much care, his touch is so gentle regardless of if its in the way he holds you or kisses you. or does anything really. itadori, who gives you his first for everything. who wants to be yours for his lifetime, and experience everything he possibly can with you. despite knowing the dangers he could be to you, and knowing that wanting you forever is selfish, but he can't help himself when you mean just about everything to him. itadori, who cannot hide things for the life of him. who buys you a cute gift for an upcoming special occasion, and immediately blurts it out that he got you it the moment he sees you. or who gets told something thats a secret by someone else, and says "okay, don't tell them i told you, 'kay? but,"

megumi, who tries soooo hard to impress you. who puts more effort into his training, or offers to do something he usually wouldn't when you're around. he's not even sure if he notices the change himself, but his classmates like yuji and nobara sure do! megumi, who is constantly glued to your side. unintentionally following you around, or offering to hold your things or walk you places just so he has the opportunity to be with you just a little longer. megumi, who not so secretly adores the attention you give him. who grumbles about your touch, or constant hand holding, but if you're not clinging onto him he'll complain, "it's cold today. my hands are freezing," even in the scorching hot. who pretends to not listen to your babbling in his ears, but proves you wrong by bringing up something you'd mentioned you like even briefly in a conversation weeks later. megumi, who lends you his clothing and can't help but stare. if it's cold, he'll slide his jacket over your shoulders and a scarf around your neck. sure, maybe he's freezing his ass off, but he can handle it if it means seeing you happy. megumi, who doesn't understand why you want him. but he understands fully why he wants you. who pictures you as someone made for him, who can't get every little interaction you two share out of his head. who denied his feelings for so long yet came to accept them. he knows he wants to be someone you're able to rely on, or can turn to when you want to feel safe. he would give you everything and try his hardest for you, even if he'd never admit it.

inumaki, who sends you little screenshots from his games that remind you of him. who see's a cute, whimsical little creature in a game and thinks 'cute. i should show this to s/o' inumaki, who has his phone on him constantly so he can text you. who is constantly sending you messages, or finding excuses to talk to you, and is surprisingly good at communication for someone that's unable to properly speak. inumaki, who makes up for your lack of verbal communication with displays of affection. who simply enjoys your presence more than anything. who stands closest to you no matter what you're doing, holds your hands all the time or follows you around. inumaki, who despite not being able to speak in anything other than ingredients, is a d1 yapper. looooves to text you silly shit, and yeah .. he plays a lot of online games, so sometimes he'll accidentally treat you like a homie instead of a s/o. whoopsie!! but its never serious. who drags you into his pranks, but always has to deal with the consequences himself :( inumaki, who wants to share his hobbies and interests with you. watching mukbang together, inviting you to play games even if you have no idea what you're doing. he loves to tease if you're not very good, or 'accidentally' make you lose if you're winning against him. accidental "drop the controller" slips from his lips, but hey, maybe if he's feeling nice he'll offer a win out of pity.

@ feinyan

[thewickedjazzy]

Bonus Level: “You Lookin’?” for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩beast! soukoku x afab! reader.

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: as chuuya’s girlfriend, you never imagined that your boss would join you both—well, now he’s watching from a video call while chuuya proves he can please you best!

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: voyeurism, edging, orgasm control, video call sex, possessive beast! soukoku, jealous! chuuya, mention of cum, masturbation, exhibitionism..etc.

ᡣ𐭩Word count and a/n: 1.5k. this fic is for @thedamselzelda for being this week's top Kink Coin collector. <3

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

your fingers tremble as you hold onto the fabric of his burgundy dress shirt for dear life. the slow drag of his cock buried deep inside you feels like a delicious torment. it’s been thirty long minutes, and each agonizing thrust pushes you closer to the edge of your release, yet he holds you firmly in place.

chuuya’s tongue circles your hard nipple, licking and sucking it as he rolls the other between his fingers. your nails dig in around his collarbone, leaving small crescent marks against his pale skin. he lifts his head, locking eyes with you, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“mghh..c’mon doll, you can handle this.”

every time you feel yourself getting close, he slows down, pulling back just enough to deny you the release you crave. “patience, baby,” he murmurs, “you know i like to take my time.”

your legs tremble beneath you, yearning to move, to ride him, but he keeps you pinned to the chair, your body forced to submit to his pace. “chuu...mmph t’much—haah..please” you beg, desperate for release, but he only smirks. and you can’t help but wonder where this side of him comes from? he’s always been so sweet, so attentive to your own orgasm.

“not yet,” he growls, slowing his pace even further, drawing it out until you’re dizzy with desire. “i want you to feel every inch of me.”

each bounce is torturous, his cock stretching you just right, feeling every throbbing vein with each agonizing thrust.

just as the moment swells, the phone's screen on his desk flickers, it's ringing pierces through the thick haze of lust. “nngh..perfect timing, boss,” he mutters, frustration flaring in his dilated azure eyes. but then a wicked smile curls on his lips as he leans closer, breath warm against your lips. “you know what? imma give him a little show. is that okay with you, doll?”

you nod eagerly. the thrill of being on display, especially with dazai watching, makes your skin tingle with anticipation. chuuya smirks, shifting your position to sprawl you over his desk, spreading your thighs wider from behind as he presses the button to start the video call with dazai.

“let’s show that bastard who you belong to, yeah?” he whispers before the call connects, and you can see dazai’s face flickering to life on the screen, a smug grin spreading across his lips as he takes in the scene before him.

“well, well, what do we have here?” he drawls as his eyes sweep over you, taking in every detail—the way your body trembles under chuuya’s hold, your legs spread wide, a blissed out expression settling on your face.

“just shut up and watch, will ya?”

chuuya’s grip tightens around you, pulling your back flush against his chest as he bounces harder into your slick folds, your body jerking upward with each thrust. his breath hitches against your neck, but all you can focus on is the way dazai’s hand moves to the zipper of his pants, sliding it down slowly. your eyes widen as he frees himself, his long, hard cock in hand, already stroking himself at a teasingly slow pace.

the sight of your boss pleasuring himself elicits a shocked gasp from you, your mind clouding with lust. you don’t even realise you’ve moaned his name until it’s too late, the sound escaping your lips in a breathless whimper. “mmngh... ‘samu.”

chuuya freezes for a second, jealousy flashing in his eyes, as he gently slaps your boobs making you hiss and tears pool in the corners of your eyes. his thrusts becoming rougher, more possessive as he growls in your ear, “don’t ya dare forget who’s fuckin’ ya right now.”

but dazai only smirks as he strokes himself faster, “looks like your girl is too distracted by my cock to scream my name forgetting who's really fucking her from behind, hmm?”

your body shudders with each powerful thrust from chuuya, but your gaze stays locked on the screen, mesmerized by the sight of dazai’s hand pumping his cock.

“mngh.. are you jealous, chuuya?” dazai’s grin widens as he watches your body arch under chuuya’s relentless pace. “or are you just mad she’s thinking of me while you’re the one fucking her?”

chuuya growls low in his throat, his thrusts becoming animalistic, hips snapping against you as he hisses, “she’ll only be screaming my name by the time i’m done with her.” his grip on you tightens, one hand moving to squeeze your breasts while the other holds you firmly in place, leaving you no room to escape.

“look at me, sweetheart.” dazai drawls, his hand moving leisurely up and down his cock, making sure you don’t miss a single detail. “imagine how good you’d feel if you were riding my cock instead,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving yours. “wouldn’t it feel so much better than being stuck on chuuya’s cock, hm?”

chuuya notices your wavering focus, his hand moves from your waist to your throat, gently pulling your head back until your lips are close to his ear. his voice drops to a raspy whisper, “hey, baby... stay with me,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your neck between words. “focus on me, yeah? i’m the one inside you, making you feel this good ahh fu-hk—you love how I’m filling you up? no one else could make you feel like this.”

“yess...nghh yes chuu..please—ahh-” you gasp, breath catching as he pounds into you harder, pushing you closer to your sweet release.

“that's right...mngh fuckk!—keep moaning my name.” his muffled groans vibrate against your neck as he presses his face into the crook, each powerful thrust pulling gasps from your lips. you cling to him, wrapping your arm around his neck to draw him closer.

but as you're close to cum on chuuya’s cock too exhausted from all the edging, dazai’s voice cuts through the haze, “come on, sweetheart... look at me.” his tone is sultry, authoritative even, as if he knows just how much control he has over you in this moment. “yes just like that, good girl.. keep your eyes on me. let’s see whose name you’re gonna scream when you cum...”

the way dazai says good girl sends a shiver down to your core, making you whimper incoherent curses. his hand pumps his cock faster, teasing you, the sight, so delicious that your focus wavers again. you can feel chuuya’s frustration as his grip on you tightens, yet he keeps whispering sweet nothings into your ear, trying to pull your attention back to him.

“you belong to me, doll” chuuya drawls softly, his thrusts becoming even more intense, as if to drive dazai from your mind. “i’m the one making you feel this good—ungh... look at you clenching around me...ffuhm-k you love how i fuck you s’good, hmm?”

each agonizing thrust pushes you closer to the brink, body trembling as you fight the overwhelming pleasure building inside your belly. your mind is split between chuuya’s rough, punishing pace and the sight of dazai’s delicious cock coated with pre-cum on the screen, each stroke making your pulse race.

and just as you glance down, you catch the sight of chuuya’s cock plunging deep inside you, slick with your combined juices and his precum. the sight sends a fresh wave of pleasure that makes your pudendal nerve tingle, pushing you further toward your release. your breath hitches as you feel the tightening coil in your core finally reach its breaking point with how chuuya’s tip is knocking so perfectly against your g-spot.

“chuu... i’m—ahh!” the words escape your lips as the overwhelming sensation crashes over you, leaving you breathless. your body quakes with the intensity of your orgasm, waves of ecstasy radiating through every inch of you, the world around you fading into blissful oblivion.

chuuya completely loses it once he hears you crying out his name. he immediately follows suit, his thrusts becoming erratic as he finds his own high, filling you completely. the dual sensations of your highs intertwine, leaving you both gasping for air.

as for dazai, he watches intently through the lens, captivated by the bounce of your breasts with every thrust, your luscious pink lips parted, the intoxicating image of your pleasure, with chuuya’s cock vanishing deep into your swollen slick folds, drives him wild. even though you're screaming chuuya's name instead, dazai pays no mind, completely drunk on your blissed-out flushed form.

“fuckk so pretty ahh—look at you,” he breathes, quickening his strokes as he takes in the sight of your body trembling in bliss. the combination of you and chuuya reaching that sweet release together, along with your desperate moans, makes him erupt, hot jets of cum spilling all over his hand and abdomen as he rides the delicious wave of his orgasm witnessesing the exquisite sight of you.

chuuya pulls out from your now-ruined cunt still holding your trembling body close to his chest, his grip is more possessive, as if staking his claim, but also tender enough to make you feel safe in his embrace.

with one hand, he leans down and taps the screen, ready to end the video call. however, just before the screen goes black, chuuya shoots dazai a heated glance, lips curling into a smug smirk.

“i won this round, asshole” he mutters, “you'll have to try a lot harder next time. she's my doll.”

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune

[fastandcarlos]

Papa Is The Best : ̗̀➛ Daniel Ricciardo

summary: pregnancy is pretty tough for you, but luckily for you you've got the best man in the world there to always help you out when you need him

The little things that you used to find so easy suddenly became the hardest jobs in the world. Whilst you loved the fact that you were growing your own little human, it sure came with its moments when you wanted to give it all up. Luckily for you, Daniel was right by your side, always on hand with his wide smile. 

“I’ve got these,” he told you, nudging you gently out the way as you went to pick out the grocery bags from the boot of the car, refusing to let you pick them up. 

“I can carry one, they’re not that heavy.” 

“No,” Daniel simply smiled back at you, struggling to hold onto all of the bags, but doing it anyway, not even giving you the chance to try and take one of them from him. 

It was all the little things that Daniel did that took you by surprise, although you always knew that he was bound to be the most amazing father, you never expected him to prove himself so early. He had done plenty of research, constantly had his eyes on you, he was on it with everything. 

At times it felt like you barely even had a second to breathe with Daniel watching over you. Any little thing that needed doing, he was there, if a task even looked as if it might be too tricky for you with your bump, he wouldn’t even let you try it, he’d just step in straight away and be there. 

“What are you looking for?” He asked as he noticed you on your tiptoes, trying to look up into the cupboard for your favourite mug. 

Before you even had chance to respond Daniel was there, arm draped over your shoulders as he followed your gaze. “Just that mug there,” you told him, pointing to the blue one that hid at the back of the shelf. 

Daniel hummed, rising with ease and swiping the mug from the cupboard. “Are you wanting a cup of tea?” 

“I can make it myself.” 

“Nonsense,” he scoffed, putting the plug down on the kettle, “you go, relax, grow our child, I’ll make the cup of tea for you.” 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

It was when you really started to suffer though that Daniel became your own little hero. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself huffing when you tried to stand up, or sighing because you couldn’t find the strength to turn yourself over in the middle of the night when your baby was unsettled.  

“Oh no,” you muttered one afternoon, immediately capturing Daniel’s attention. 

He rushed up from his seat and over to your side. “What? What is it?” 

“It’s finally happened.” 

Daniel looked to you with urgency and panic, trying his best to figure out what the problem was. Nothing seemed to be the matter, but he could never quite be sure with all the changes your body was going through. 

“I’ve finally reached the stage in pregnancy when I can’t tie my own shoelaces anymore,” you cried out, throwing your head back in disbelief. 

Daniel did the same as you, but his in relief, glad that it wasn’t something more serious. “You can’t scare me like that love, I thought you were about to go into labour or something.” 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

The moment when your bump really started to show that made Daniel’s heart swell however. He knew you were struggling for confidence as your stretch marks began to get more prominent, but he had never found himself more in love in his life. He laid back on the bed as you grabbed your cream to try and minimise the effects of the marks. 

It hurt him to see you when you had those darker days, how you twirled around in the mirror and looked at the changes your body had gone through. Most of the time you knew how much of a beautiful thing it was, but there were those days sometimes when you weren’t quite so convinced. Today was one of those days, where you were frantic, desperate almost, to make sure that you took the best care of yourself. 

His eyes watched intently as you squeezed some out into your hand, massaging it all over your bump to make sure you covered it all. You were just about to finish when Daniel’s tall figure appeared behind you, taking the cream from out of your hand. 

“You missed a bit,” he told you, squeezing some into his own hand. He knelt down so that he could get underneath your bump, his fingers gently running along the bottom to cover the marks that you’d missed. 

“How are you so attentive?” You chuckled, watching Daniel closely. 

“Because I can’t get enough of you, especially whilst you’re pregnant.” 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

His favourite time of the day was after you had finished your routine however, the time when you’d tuck yourself into bed and feel Daniel snuggle up behind you. His hands would dance over the top of your bump in search of any sort of movement from your little one.  

Every time there was a little kick or a wriggle, laughter would come from behind you. It was something that Daniel just couldn’t get used to, no matter how hard he tried. Each kick hit him with disbelief, still stunned that the small human that was making those movements was weeks away from meeting him, weeks away from making him a father. 

There were no words spoken between you both at night, as Daniel knew just how tired you were. He didn’t need to say anything though, just having him hold you was enough, and for him, being able to cuddle up to you and your bump was an indescribable feeling that he’d never get used to. 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

With just a handful of weeks remaining, Daniel withdrew himself from work for a while. After a couple of near misses between you and a few accidents, he decided that he couldn’t let you out of his sight any longer. 

“Where are you going?” He asked every single time you stood up from the sofa, refusing to let you out of his sight. 

“I’m going to the toilet, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Maybe,” he jokingly replied, “are you sure you can get there without any help?” 

“I reckon I might just be alright.” 

Although Daniel let you go, he still muted the television and hovered by the door to the living room, listening out just in case. He much preferred to be safe than sorry, even if some people did think he was a little too overprotective of you. 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

That protectiveness came to the forefront when Daniel noticed you hunched over in the kitchen one afternoon. He almost smiled as he saw you, not that you were in pain, but that his latest bit of research could finally be used. As quietly as he could, Daniel came up behind you and placed your hands underneath your bump, lifting it gently. 

A sigh of relief came from you as soon as the weight of your bump disappeared, tilting your head back so that you rested against Daniel’s chest. It was the most comfortable you had felt in your eight months of pregnancy, unable to believe the difference that Daniel had made. 

“Where did you learn to do that?” You whispered, your voice much brighter than Daniel had heard it in a while. “It’s heavenly.” 

“I read about it on a website, they said that it makes you feel like you’re not carrying your bump for a while,” he smiled down at you, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. 

A hum came from you, not wanting Daniel to ever move from the position that he was in. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate this right now Daniel.” 

Seeing you so content was all that he ever wanted, at times during your pregnancy he felt pretty helpless, but right now he felt as if he was doing the best job in the world. The weight of it was nothing to Daniel, but he couldn’t imagine carrying it around all day like you did. 

Your hands rested on top of your bump, keeping your eyes glancing up at Daniel. “I hope our baby knows that their papa is the best,” you whispered. 

“He’s only the best because he’s got such an amazing woman whose about to be their mummy,” Daniel softly smiled in reply. 

“I don’t say it enough, but thank you for everything you do for me. It turns out being pregnant is pretty tough.” 

“You don’t ever have to thank me,” Daniel chuckled, “I love being here for you, sometimes I wish I could do more.” 

“What you do now is perfect, you’re perfect.” 

“I’m only perfect thanks to you my love.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[arminsumi]

. . . 𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Suguru Geto

From your perspective, you're just two strangers. But you have no idea just how insane it all looks from his side. He's smitten — and a total hypocrite on your lips.

► '... you're my religion, you're how I'm living.'

+ Content: cult leader Geto, dad Geto, non-sorcerer reader

+ Requested by @betonlosingfrogs

+ Author's note: cult leader Geto Suguru may be serious but I like to think he'd just look like a goth dad in the supermarket, buying cereal for his girls

+ wc: 2k

Looking closely at the back of a bright-pink cereal box that his little ones nagged him to buy, Suguru stood slightly hunched over with his dark hair in a sloppy bun.

The stress of his newfound life as a dad showed on his deeply indented eyebags — he looked so severe, so unapproachable, like he would bite you if you stared at him. And yet, many stared. Because underneath the eerie was calm, and in his black eyes there was a hidden tranquility.

"Stay in sight, girls." Suguru warned softly to Mimiko and Nanako, who he saw through his peripherals were bounding about the aisle, "I don't want to lose you two."

Not heeding his warning at all, they went off on their own little ways, drawn to the aisle that you happened to be shopping down. And so within a few minutes, Suguru's usual composure disappeared as he burst into panic.

With quick-paced, long strides of his spider-like legs, he went looking for Mimiko and Nanako, furrowing his brows until two lines formed between them, briefly checking each aisle, pacing back his steps.

He turned abruptly into people, looking down on them in disgust, knocking a few products off shelves with his haphazard path. All the while, his heart thumped in his chest.

And you, leading two little ones by the hand to the cereal aisle, immediately had this feeling that he was their dad.

Still, you asked. "Which one's your dad?"

"That one."

They pointed at a gothic-looking, terrifyingly tall man with a severe expression on his face. He looked so unapproachable that you almost didn't want to walk up to him.

With not much courage, you sheepishly approached Suguru. He turned, his sight landing on his girls, then he darted his black eyes up at you.

"... Sorry, I told them not to wander." he apologized.

Why am I apologizing? Suguru thought to himself.

"No worries." you smiled gently at him. "This is a small store, I'm sure they would have found you by themselves eventually — but they approached me for help."

"Oh." Suguru said with a subtle tone of surprise.

Suguru looked down at his girls and saw how calmly they were holding onto you; like you were their mom. His heart throbbed and he felt inexplicably freaked out.

"Well, I'm glad." he said, surprising himself in every new moment that passed, "Thanks. Girls, let's go."

With that, he abruptly left. Judging by the curl of his lips and the feeling shrouding him, you assumed that he must have not liked talking to people.

. . . 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞,

"Why are you going out?" his girls asked as he put on his cologne.

"... I have a meeting with some very important people." he replied calmly, readying himself to leave.

The girls hurried after him with little steps, "Can we come with?"

"No, no. I want you two to stay here." he said, patting their heads, "And be good; don't eat the cereal, it's meant for breakfast, okay?"

They were clingy as he left. As he descended the gaudy turquoise stairwell of his apartment complex, he thought about you.

You. He had the memory of your face nearly crisp in his mind, the echo of your voice on repeat somewhere in his subconscious.

Trying to blur you out of his mind proved impossible until he was finally behind the closed doors of a meeting.

The meeting of which, had only one purpose; to preach words against non-sorcerers.

Suguru narrowed his eyes and spoke in a deep, reverberating voice to his followers as they all faced him, sat on their knees.

Ego swollen, he left his 'meeting' feeling refreshed, self-assured; until he got three-quarters of the way home, and coincidentally happened upon you; completely helpless and cornered by a slim, toothy curse that you had no hope of escaping without needing to rush to the hospital afterwards. It had already drawn blood from you, Suguru observed.

And the smell of your blood met his nose as he just lingered out of sight, watching you struggle.

Am I really this cruel? He thought to himself. Is it necessary? If I make one exception, doesn't that just make me a hypocrite?

Suguru thought all this, knowing that his mind was already made up.

He hummed to himself, rolled his eyes, stared up at the sky and then walked calmly over to you.

With utter silence in his mind, Suguru lazily exorcised the curse, and ignored your wide-blown, horrified eyes that were now directed at him — who was just a normal stranger to you until now.

He looked down at you for a while, then after a bout of silence, he hesitantly asked, "Are you okay?"

And those words were a bigger deal for him to say than for you to hear; you had no idea how hypocritical he was being, how merciful he was being, or how insane the context was.

You gave him an unsure nod, "I think so?"

"Can you stand by yourself?" he asked.

"... it was biting my ankle... " you sounded more and more weary, Suguru noticed every beat change in your voice, every movement of your lips as they spoke each syllable.

In your small and vulnerable state, you kept an apprehensive expression on your face as Suguru leaned down and helped you up, offering his arm; you saw the hint of a tattoo underneath his sleeve, something like a dragon's tail.

"Which ankle?"

"Huh?"

"Where did it bite you?"

His voice had hardened. You showed him where, and he looked at it, the trickle of blood and the bite marks.

I hate you so much, but I'm not that cruel. He thought, his heart thumping harder.

. . . 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞,

"The teeth marks look so cool!" Mimiko commented.

Nanako nudged her sister out of the way, eager to see, but then she frowned, "Can I help you wrap the bandages?" she asked you.

"No, let her be, girls, please." Suguru said, giving you a quick glance.

As soon as they left, he found himself apologizing once more, "Sorry, they haven't been this hyper in a while."

"They're so sweet. So you're a single dad? Where's the missus?" you asked, feeling more at ease.

"There is no missus." he replied stiffly, "It's just me."

"Oh. Now I understand why your eyes look so tired." you said.

He smiled a little, "Yeah, they're a bit of a handful, but I love them."

Confused and somewhat embarrassed, Suguru quickly ironed the smile out of his lips.

"... so there's no missus..." you continued the conversation, "Are you seeing anybody?"

Suguru looked at you, eyes widened, completely taken aback by not only your forwardness but the question itself; why did you want to know? Were you attracted to him? Why were you attracted to him?

"Uh, I'm not in the dating scene." he replied curtly. "It's beneath me."

"Aw, what a terrible attitude you've got..." you teased. "Sorry, sorry."

His heart throbbed, this time not because he was freaked out, or self-loathing, or anything such; he knew exactly what he was starting to feel, so he washed out his feelings quickly.

"Sorry, I wasn't aware that I had an attitude."

You smiled flirtatiously at him — now that really threw him off.

Slightly disoriented, he snapped-to when the girls' voices came through the door.

"... Nanako spilled cereal all over the kitchen floor!"

He sighed, held back the smallest of smiles, and straightened out his back like he was suddenly aware of how he could seem more attractive to a woman.

"Excuse me." he said, then left you to help yourself with the bandages.

. . . 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐚����𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

And Suguru's black eyes lit up brightly when he saw you again at the same grocery store, this time alone.

He told himself that he would only say hi and leave. Yes, just a little hello — that was all that he deemed necessary.

I don't have time to waste. That's what he thought.

His time was money. And he spent it all on you, right there, in the aisle of a grocery store, indulging in fifteen minutes with you.

Fifteen minutes turned into twenty, into twenty-five, and after thirty minutes he finally snapped-to, as if out of a trance — but only because you abruptly said;

"Oh, I've got to go."

"Oh... sorry to take so much of your time." he apologized.

"Not at all, Suguru, I would give you more if I could. Ah... actually," you spoke and he listened, intently, to your tone shift into something more flirty, more sensual;

"Would you like to meet again, tonight? I know a great restaurant — "

" — Yes, absolutely." he agreed without thinking.

All his ideals and beliefs? What are you talking about? He's just a smitten boy.

. . . 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮,

How rigidly he waited for you, looking around in search of your face with an eagerness that he could no longer effortlessly conceal.

She's late. He thought, lowering his gaze.

But a few minutes after thinking this, he saw your face. In the small seconds before you saw him and approached his table, he fussed over himself; he rubbed his lips together to make sure they looked soft and red, he neatened his hair, he cleared his throat, he straightened his posture.

"Sorry I'm late, the traffic was terrible." you apologized.

Suguru's body language was alive with attraction, "It's okay, I didn't mind waiting." he said.

"I hardly believe that. You look hungry." you teased.

He felt caught, and blinked at you. Did he make it obvious? He was so sure that he controlled his emotions.

"... I'm sure you'll like the food here."

He relaxed, realizing he misunderstood.

. . . 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝-𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐧,

I could be your cult leader. He mused to himself. And you could be my sacrificial virgin.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking of a joke."

"Hm, well I love jokes. Why don't you indulge me?"

"I don't know if I should; I've got a bit of a twisted sense of humor." he feathered.

Your sultry lash-fluttering had his body heating up, feeling restless, feeling on the verge of a small insanity.

This tiny, indescribable insanity that was buried so deep inside him that he could easily ignore it, but he chose not to, and just gave in.

This feeling shadowed his wake as he walked you home, listening to you flirt and giggle next to him was overwhelming him.

All you noticed was that he almost smiled, that he kept taking big sighing breaths like he was steadying himself — his mysteriousness almost annoyed you, which in turn made you feel even more interested in him.

Just as you were wondering to yourself if you got through to him, he gave you a goodbye kiss on the cheek. Too eager to wait for the unpredictable future, you decided to kiss his lips.

He let out a low hum of surprise, but quickly melted, quickly reciprocated and pressed his warm lips on yours. More than that; he leaned into you, let you stroke his cheek, enjoyed every little second.

But Suguru had to exercise extreme control over himself; if he didn't have the discipline of a martial artist, he might have kissed you harder, might have kissed you breathlessly, like a starved, insane romantic.

And maybe he liked seeing the begging look on your face. It made his ego swell, it made him think of things he could never tell you, lest you think something's wrong with him.

"Can I see you again?" he asked.

"Do you want to?" you flirted.

He refrained, cutting out a lot from his response, "Of course I want to..." he almost whispered, looking at your lips.

You smiled and it got him all twisted up inside. "Well, then ask me out on another date, silly."

He hummed, eyeing your lips exclusively now.

"... are you free next Saturday?" he asked slowly.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[hyunebunx]

💓 with felix omg can you imagine how adorable

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💓- 'a trail of kisses along the partner's jawline or collarbone'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!!

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. pairing: felix x gn!reader

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: teriii this took me forever i'm sorry 😔 i just realised the reason i'm so slow with requests is bc i'm unable to write anything if i don't make the characters head over heels in love with each other. anywayss, i hope you like it 🩷🫶🏻

“Love.” He calls out lowly, nuzzling your neck affectionately while your fingers comb through blond locks, massaging his scalp. Felix has pretty much melted into your arms, eyes barely open and not focused on the movie he insisted on watching together for the past week, missing the whole plot. “Look at me.”

“Lix, baby, my darling sunshine.” You giggle, eyes still trained on the tv screen, which has him groaning in protest. “I’m watching the movie. The one you’ve been babbling about for weeks. Why aren’t you?”

He mumbles something against your skin, too quiet for you to hear. “What was that?”

“I said, I’m bored.” He lets out a dramatic sigh, raising his head to look you in the eyes, everything in you softening once those plump lips jut out in a slight pout.

Movie all forgotten, you reach to push the hair out of his face, tenderly tucking the loose strands behind his ears to which Felix leans into your touch like a man starved of affection for weeks on end. Your thumb then moves to wipe off a small food stain near his lips, some chocolate that didn’t reach its destination and decide to hang onto your boyfriend’s gorgeous face for a while longer, also mesmerised by his beauty.

“Should we watch something else, then?” You inquire, spreading your arms to welcome him back into your embrace. Felix doesn’t even bother to answer before diving in, taking his rightful place into the crock of your neck with a soft, relieved sigh.

A moment later, he shakes his head, strong hands kneading your waist and pushing you further into the couch, all of his body needing to be touching yours in some capacity. “It’s almost over anyway.”

His lips then find their way to your jawline, peppering feather like kisses along the surface in a true, cuddlebug fashion. Your smile widens, the hand that’s not in his hair coming to lay on his back and caress the covered skin in a comforting manner as Felix lets most of his weight rest on you.

“What do you want to want to do after?” His kisses barely let you finish, pillowy lips trailing down to your neck which causes you to giggle, their gentleness tickling. Asking might prove redundant because Felix only gets this affectionate when he’s tired, your shared bed calling his name in the sweetest voice only he can hear.

You reach for the remote to turn the tv down, losing all interest in the movie as Felix ponders the question, placing a sweet kiss behind your ear that has a shiver running down your spine. Sitting up, he releases your waist to hold both of your hands, interlacing your fingers to bring them up to his lips more easily.

His answer is surprising. “Talk.”

“About?” You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to sit up as exhaustion seems to rest right on your bones.

As expected, it doesn’t take Felix long to return to your side, hovering over you and delicately pinning one of your hands right next to your head on a comfy cushion. “You.” He nods, smiling widely when you move just a tad bit to rub your nose against his, chuckling.

“What else do you want to know?” Your free hand moves to his nape, caressing the skin there which always gives Felix goosebumps. “My life isn’t as exciting as yours, I don’t have that many interesting stories to tell.”

Felix disagrees, dropping down to leave another trail of delicate kisses along your collarbones, cheekily hooking a finger under your shirt’s collar to expose even more skin. “Everything. I want to know everything about you.”

Your heart skips several beats, all possible responses dying on your tongue as they witness how much this man loves and cares about you. To be known is to be loved, and Felix wanted to make sure he knew everything before attempting to love you properly, exactly how you deserved to be loved for the rest of your life. A life he hoped and prayed you’d share with him.

His voice is low, barely above a whisper as he confesses his profound feelings. “I want every single detail about you to be engraved on my mind, and heart for as long as I live, to make sure I never forget a minute out of all the time we’ve spent together.”

“I want to recognize you from people’s stories, to work out exactly why you chose one thing over the other. I already recognize your footsteps as you walk down the hall to visit me at work – and the sound has me grinning like a fucking idiot.” He exhales, resting his forehead just above your frantically beating heart. “Can you imagine how happy knowing everything else about you would make me feel? I think I might burst.”

No, you couldn’t, because you could never wrap your head around being loved so genuinely and openly. Being loved for the real you, with the good, the bad and the ugly parts you have never shown anyone.

But Felix, as persistent as he was, will only stop once he can prove you wrong and make it a reality.

[soobnny]

dating him | han jisung

❝ you found my heart broken and you helped me make it whole again ❞

chan | lee know | changbin | hyunjin | HAN | felix | seungmin | jeongin

i think you’re a second love type situation for han jisung

the one where he thought he’d never recover from his first heartbreak

but then here u come

i think han’s the type of person to feel everything

if he’s in love, he’s in LOVE

and if he’s hurt, it would just be overwhelming pain

so imagine how he was when he got his first heartbreak

he’d lose a little bit of his spark

maybe keep to himself even more than he used to

u come to his life in the form of a friend first

and han has unknowingly planted a seed that’s grown and grown and grown

with every interaction

with every laugh you’ve brought back

with every moment he was coming out of his shell again

until it’s fully bloomed into a love that’s very very real and very very present

han jisung would also love so beautifully

he knows what it’s like to be hurt, and he doesn’t ever want u to feel that same pain

he rly makes efforts

he is FULL of efforts

and he makes u laugh ☹️☹️☹️☹️

he communicates

and when the boys finally meet u, they’re very grateful but also

????!!!! why do u they know ur favorite color

and ur go-to order at the cafe

and the hoodie u like to steal from jisung the most

well turns out, han loves talking about u to his friends

they just know everything about u before even meeting u

he’d get rly shy about it but never embarrassed

he’d tell the whole world about u if he could

what else can i tell u

han jisung is just someone where nothing sounds crazy to him

so i think all ur dates with him would be so fun and adventurous lowk

amusement parks !!!!!

ice skating and roller blading

both of u would fall on ur ass

but you’d also laugh so much and somehow that makes up for everything

you’d be holding hands and skating with each other and looking at each other with lovesick smiles

I FEEL SICK!!!!!!!!

he’s always trying to impress u too

he tries to imitate figure skaters

kids don’t try this at home

ofc he fails miserably

obvious blushes when you’d tell him he was cute for trying

or when you’d praise him

anyways when i said he’s always trying to impress u i mean ALWAYS

he treats the relationship like he’s still pining after you

being the standard fr

he never lets go of the love

sometimes he’d still get shy to ask u out

somehow he doesn’t believe u actually said yes to him

he thinks he’s the luckiest boy

anyways, aside from adventurous dates, he equally values his inside time and quieter dates

he’s thankful u understand his shifts in his energy

on days u stay inside, you’d probably watch horror movies

look…. he suggests it….

it looked cool in his head to be all protective

you’d hold onto his arm when the jumpscares come

but

womp womp

he ends up being more afraid than u

and now HE’S holding ur arm

yeah it looked way cooler in his head

you’d play silly little board games together

or maybe charades

he’s so easily amused by sexual innuendos

he’s just a man guys

anyways

there are two things he loves to steal from u the most

aside from ur kisses

and it’s (1) ur perfume and (2) ur lip balm

u’d catch him putting on ur perfume just bc he wants to be surrounded by ur scent

it’s very comforting

one time, he was sick and the boys were taking care of him

and when u finally had time to take over and care for ur bf

u just …. smell ur perfume

“did you put on my perfume?”

“i missed you ☹️☹️☹️☹️”

DOWN BADDDDD

he’s so pouty and so cute

let’s suffocate him with the pillow

KIDDINGGGGGG KIDDING

and then ur lip balm

sometimes he steals the actual thing

sometimes he kisses you so he can have it on his lips too

han jisung is also the type to avail every possible couple coupon

and he’s always begging the cashiers to let u prove u’re a couple

it’s so he has an excuse to kiss you

so

months into dating him also means a thousand love letters

he loves writing u love letters

and u know sooner that he also writes songs

on ur anniversary, he reveals a song he’s written for you

and when he proposes, he tells u about every single one he’d ever written about you and for you

wish that were me 😂😂😂😂😂

TAKE CARE OF HIM

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

[leviismybby]

Birthday wish

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

Nsfw 18+, mdni, happy birthday to Levi and Merry Christmas everyone!

Levi didn't wish for many things in life, he wasn't selfish enough to do so. The moment he blew out that candle, everyone around him cheered, he was grateful for the effort others put in to make his birthday memorable but he hated it. It wasn't for him, all the gifts, all the noise, it wasn't for him at all. His eyes closed for a second, he probably won't wish for anything, he didn't last year or the year before that, why would this year be different? But this time, he did wish for something, he wished for you. He knew better than anyone that he shouldn't, it wasn't the right time or the right place for such distractions yet you managed to crawl so deep init his mind that he is able to see you anytime he closes his eyes.

He wished for your body to be pressed against his, his lips making his way down your body. You smelled so good, Levi could recognize your smell anywhere. His hands caressed your thigh gently, hands going up your skirt more and more. Your moans are music to his ears, it's a sound he wouldn't mind repeating over and over again. "Can I?" His voice is hoarse, dripping with desire and hunger for you. "Yes." As soon as your soft voice permits him, Levi pulls your shirt over your head, your upper body exposed to his hungry gaze. He doesn't waste a second before his lips are nipping and kissing at your exposed shoulders and collarbones.

You moan as his lips move down to your breasts, he bites into the plush skin, leaving a mark behind. This was all he wanted. You sitting on his lap like this, he wouldn't ask for anything more. Levi takes your bra off, his hands grab your hips, grinding you on his erection. "Fuck..." He growls before taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking eagerly. The noises you're letting out just fire him up more, you were so sesntvie to his touch, he loved it. His mouth moved onto your other nipple as his hands traveled to your ass, squeezing it as you grinded on his cock.

The skirt you wore irritated Levi, it was in the way and he couldn't wait to take it off. He lets go of your nipple with a pop before looking up at you. "Let's get this fucking thing off you, princess..." He literally rips it off, tearing it in half, he bites his lips when he sees that you were wet through your panties. A clear sign that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you. You lean down to kiss him, Levi grunts into the kiss and hooks his fingers on your underwear before sliding it down your legs. The kiss was passionate and long, he was addicted to the taste of your lips, he could kiss you for hours.

When you pull away from the kiss, breathing heavily, you yelp as Levi's cold fingers tease your pussy. "So fucking wet...good girl." His lips return to your neck, his fingers getting more and more hasty. Levi pushes a finger into you making a whimper space your swollen lips. "Captain..." That tone in your voice makes Levi growl, he could his finger inside of you, you were so tight, so perfect and read for him. You start to rock your hips, wanting to feel all of him and Levi adds another finger, preparing you for him more. Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he managed to hit that spot, you knew Levi was skilled with his fingers but this was another level, no guy has actually gotten you to cum on their finger before.

It was a sensation you never felt before, his fingers hit every spot as he pumped them in and out of you, his lips were now marking your collarbones, your voice was turning into whimpers. "You gonna cum for me yeah?" You grip onto his shoulders, trying your best to hold back an orgasm which proves to be impossible especially as Levi starts to move his fingers faster, your moans grow louder. "Levi fuck! I am gonna cum!" Levi looks at you again, keeping his eyes on your face as you squirm and cum all over his fingers. "That's my girl, fuck you look so fucking pretty like this." He pulls his fingers out softly and puts them in his mouth to taste you. "Taste so good...I just want to eat it...but that is for later..."

Your eyes open and you look at him, you run your fingers down his abs to his belt, undoing it quickly. Levi helps you, he pulls out his hard cock and you live your lips. Lifting yourself up slightly, you rub his cock at your entrance, Levi places his hands on your waist, his eyes watching as his cock slowly disappears into your wetness. "Fuck..." He breaths out feeling your warm walls around his length, his arms tighten around your waist. You moan as you lower yourself on him completely, Levi lets you cockwarm him for a little bit so you adjust to his size.

"Can I move?" He asks as his hands move back to your hips, you nod your head, letting him take the lead. Without further question, Levi starts to move you up and down on his cock, his breath getting quicker with each slam of his hips. Your arms wrap around his neck and you bury your head into his shoulder feeling his cock pound into you. Levi's grip on your hips is tight, you're sure that it will leave marks but it doesn't your concern at all right now.

Rocking your hips, you start to move in sync with his thrusts, Levi groans and starts to move faster. "So fucking good....such a good pussy..." You hear him mutter, his voice is deep and almost needy. He noticed that you got tired after some time so he helped you by switching the position quickly. You're pushed back on the bed and Levi never pulls out of you, he takes your knees and pushes them up to penetrate you even deeper, your eyes roll back, a loud main of his name leaving your lips. He was quick with it.

This position was perfect, Levi was able to fuck you better like this, and his hips moved harder. Your nails were digging into his back as he slammed into you, your body was arching, carving for more. He moves your legs around his waist, his length diving deeper into you. "Oh yeah...that's it. Fucking...fuck." Levi leans in and kisses you, his tongue enters your mouth, this kiss was messy, it was proof of how passionate and intimidate your moment is.

Your pussy starts to clamp down on him, he knows you're close. "Fuck yeah, cum for me, let me see you fall apart." Levi starts to fuck you faster, his thrusts getting sloppier. You both cum at the same time, Levi growls slightly as he pulls out, cumming all over your skin....

"Levi, what did you wish for?" Hange's voice made Levi snap out of his thoughts. Levi looks around realizing that he wasn't even there with you, it was all in his head. He looks around the room, his eyes land on you as you hold a wrapped present for him with a smile. Levi looks at you for second before returning to look at his friends. "Nothing. I wished for nothing."

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

Taglist: @youre-ackermine @humanitys-strongest-bamf @romantichomicide95 @mrsackermannx @sixpennydame @svftackerman @hhighkey @cometlevi @notgoodforlife @levisbrat25 @randomlevithoughts @ackermendick @saenora @loveackermannn @levismylover @laurenzitaa @missyasma @sad-darksoul @thebobaprincess @la-undercover-latina @levilxvr @bpdtistic @erwinsmithsmissingleftarm

[illusioninfnty]

desperation ↠ day 31 ; sex pollen

↠ buggy the clown x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1.6k warnings: nsfw 18+, dubcon, semi-public sex, fuck or die-ish, fingering, banter, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

You know Buggy’s going to leave as soon as he gets his body back.

You’re not going to let that happen. When he finally reattaches himself, and runs off with a see ya!, you run after him.

“Stop!” you call out to him. “You need to stay and fight. We saved your ass, didn’t we?”

He turns around and sighs dramatically seeing you. “You again? Seriously sweetcheeks, would ya let me leave?”

You cross your arms, and give him the most intimidating glare you can muster. You only recently joined the crew, and you wanted to prove that you were tough enough to fight with the rest of them. Making sure that Buggy helped you guys fight Arlong and his fishmen while Luffy went to go save Nami was a way to prove yourself to them.

“I can’t let you—” you're interrupted by a fishman coming out from behind Buggy and approaching you. You whip out a dagger to prepare for his attack, but before you can get a move in he sprays some sort of powdery mist in your face, completely taking over your vision.

“Good luck trying to fight me now when you gotta deal with that,” he snickers as he runs away.

You cough and bend over, hands on your knees, as the mist lands in your nostrils and mouth. You try to swat it away in the air surrounding you, but it feels as though the mist has already gotten inside of you, and there’s no way to escape it now.

“Well, anyways, I’m going to go then,” Buggy starts, slowly backing away as he gets ready to escape.

You’re too weak to try and distracted now to try and stop him, but then your body starts to feel different. Your internal temperature skyrockets, causing beads of sweat to start dripping down your face despite the fairly average temperature outside. You can feel your body not getting hot because of that, but also the sudden arousal that threatens your core. 

Your legs begin to tremble as your body aches with need, a deep feeling in your gut that you never felt before. It’s like a hunger that needs to be sated immediately, as though it were a life or death situation. It has you wanting to just stick your fingers inside of your pussy and just fuck yourself silly until you can rid yourself of this itch you can’t seem to scratch.

“W-wait!” You call out to him. You must sound extremely desperate, because Buggy actually stops and turns towards you instead of ignoring your pleas.

You swallow hard and continue. “I need…help.” Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth as you grit out your words, embarrassed by just how much you want the stupid clown to fuck you. You can already feel how wet you are through your bottoms, and as the seconds tick by it feels as though your arousal is going to start spilling out onto the floor. “Need you to fuck me. Please.”

You’re too ashamed of your desperation to look Buggy in the face to see his reaction to your words. You only know of his answer when you fall to your knees, legs too weak to hold yourself up, and you feel his palm on your back.

“Well when you look like that, how can I say no?” Sarcasm drips in his voice, and you can tell he’s not really taking you seriously.

“I’m serious!” You try to sound as adamant as you can given how weak you feel at the moment.

“So am—” You interrupt him, finally having enough, by grabbing him by the back of his neck and smashing your lips against his own in a kiss.

His own hands move to cup your face, and you open your mouth up to let his tongue in. As the kiss becomes sloppy, you start to rid yourself of your clothes, needing your body to cool down.

He pulls away as he sees you baring yourself to him, eyes widening and a smirk overtaking his face. “Woah, didn’t realize you wanted to fuck me so badly. I would’ve happily done it if you were nice and asked.”

You don’t have it in you to protest him now. Instead you move your fingers inside of you, your juices gushing out of you despite the lack of attention your pussy had been receiving.

“The shit he sprayed me with,” you start. You lay yourself on the ground, arching your back as you piston your fingers in and out of you, praying that you find your release soon.

Buggy hums in thought. “I should be thanking him, then. Got myself a nice view.”

“You can do that after you fuck me.” The next thing you know his cock is inside of you, and he’s thrusting with the vigor of a man starved. You moan and arch yourself into him, your hands scrambling as they claw at his back. You wrap your legs around him, wanting to keep him close as his thick cock ruts into you.

You don’t think sex had ever felt this good before. Your juices are squirting out of you, proving to be a great replacement for lube, and your walls clench down hard on Buggy’s cock, like a vice. He groans above you as you tighten your grip around him, walls fluttering as they refuse to let him leave you.

The pleasure is too much for you to bear, and you can hardly talk. Your eyes roll back into your head and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, drool escaping the corners of your lips.

All that comes out of your mouth and pathetic whimpers and breaths of yes, yes, yes as Buggy fucks you with reckless abandon.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grits out as his muscles bulge from holding you down with so much force. His hips collide with your own, the sounds of your skin slapping loud enough to draw the attention of anyone who would’ve been in the vicinity of the two of you. “Shoulda fucked you when I first saw you. Lookin’ all cute in slutty in your little pirate getup.”

You know you should feel insulted by the way he technically insinuated you were “playing” pirate, but the horny, afflicted side of you only chooses to focus on the yearning in his voice of wanting to fuck you, and how his cock is hitting parts of you that make you see stars.

It comes to no surprise to you that your orgasm is already closely approaching within minutes of having Buggy’s cock fucking into you. Your nails dig into his skin, and your whines increase in pitch and speed.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” Buggy groans as you clench down even harder around his cock, as impossible as it may seem, and your orgasm crashes into you like a wave. You can only gasp out curses as you squirt all over his cock, your juices rushing out of you wildly.

Your release soaks yourself and him, both inside and out. Buggy’s orgasm isn’t too far behind as his hips begin to stutter in their rhythm and soon he’s moaning lowly in your ear and filling you to the brim.

A sudden rush of calmness washes over you as Buggy’s cum fills you up. It’s like all of the horniness and desperation for sex escapes your body as soon as it comes into contact with his cum. Your body temperature returns to normal, and the shaking of your body is solely in response to your orgasm instead of the deep aching within your core that seemed as though it could never be satiated.

You hold onto him for a couple of moments longer, catching your breath and coming down from your high as Buggy’s arms also remain wrapped around you and his cock stays nestled inside your entrance.

It’s then that you hear your name being called out in the distance. It seems as though while you were affected by the mist powder, your crew had completed all they set out to do.

Not wanting them to see you in the precarious situation you’re in, covered in juices and Buggy on top of you, still inside your entrance, you scramble away from him. Stumbling as you put your pants back on, ignoring the way his cum pools out of you, you give him a kick to his side.

“Ow!” He whines, rubbing the area you made contact with.

“Get out of here!” you whisper to him, despite no one being around you for probably miles out. “If they see us like this I’m totally screwed!”

He rolls his eyes, but still goes to stand up and get dressed again. “Oh, what? Embarrassed to be seen with me? Real original.” 

Your eyes narrow and you cross your arms. “I am trying to make a good impression with my crew, and this—” your hands gesture to yourself and Buggy—“is not going to help that.”

Buggy holds his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine. But you owe me one.” He begrudgingly begins to leave by walking backwards, his eyes on yours the entire time. “Next time we meet, I'll have you help me out with something.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes you want to cringe, yet you can’t find it in yourself to dismiss him completely.

You shoo him away, ignoring the way heat rises to your cheeks. “Maybe. Now scram.”

You see your crew approach just as Buggy is out of sight. Thinking about your encounter with him more, technically, your mission was a success. You’d call it a win in your books.

[rosiesmuts]

Dangerous Game

Twice Sana ft. Nayeon

Words: 4,400

A/N: Sana hella hot doe

Nayeon is sick and tired of Sana bragging about her blowjob skills yet again.

"And then," Sana says, waving her hands as she recounts her latest sexual conquest. "He came, like, everywhere. All over my face. My tits. My stomach. I swear I was just covered in cum."

"You're so fucking disgusting," Nayeon replies. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Sana chirps. "It's not my fault guys just explode when I suck their dick."

Nayeon groans,"I'm really sick of hearing about how great you think you are at giving head. I bet I'm just as good as you are."

"I doubt it," Sana says, shrugging.

"Bet."

"Fine. Let's bet, loser has to do whatever the winner asks. But how are we gonna prove it?"

"I bet Oppa is game. He's waiting for me to come home. Technically he's the best person to judge."

"Are you crazy? I'm not gonna suck your boyfriend's cock."

"Aww, scared you'll lose?"

"Fine I'll do it, but don't get mad if he falls in love with me."

"I think I'll survive." Nayeon kept up a strong face, but as per usual, she got too caught up in winning an argument. She didn't actually think Sana would actually follow through on this, but sure enough, Sana followed her into the cab.

You hear the sound of your door creaking open. "Nayeon, is that you?"

"Yea! Sana's here too by the way!"

She must've had too much to drink and was crashing over again. A sigh escapes as you get up to greet the two crazy women.

"Here Sana, you left your pajamas last time, you can sleep in these."

"Oh what's the rush Oppa? Don't you want to have a little fun?" Sana teases you, running her finger up and down your chest.

"You're drunk Sana. Go to bed."

"Oh I'm not drunk at all Oppa. Nayeon brought me back here to suck your cock." She says in the most casual tone, like this was an everyday occurrence.

Your mind races. You can't deny that you've fantasized about Sana before. She's constantly talking about how she gives the best head in the world. But you've never taken her seriously, and you didn't want to ruin your relationship with Nayeon by actually testing the theory.

"What the fuck?" You yell at Nayeon.

"Look," Nayeon starts. "She's just been bragging so much about her fucking amazing skills. I told her to prove she was better than me, and who else would know besides you. It's the perfect solution."

You can't believe the words coming out of her mouth. This had to be a dream. But you know Nayeon is the type of girl who sticks her foot in her mouth. This is real. You can't hide the shock on your face.

"I thought she'd back down, but she's pretty set on doing it."

"Oppa, can I please suck your cock? Pretty please?" Sana pleads. Her eyes are begging.

"Um..." The decision doesn't seem difficult from her perspective, but your heart is pounding like it's a life or death situation.

Without a moment to respond, Sana is already leading you to the couch. In one swift move, she sinks onto her knees, making easy work of your sweatpants, sliding them off completely in a moment. The fabric pools at your ankles as Sana nuzzles her face into your underwear. She eagerly presses her cheek and chin into your groin. You've always appreciated her bubbly, round face, but it takes on an extra definition as it's cradled by your crotch.

She leans back for a moment and you can feel her fingers stroking your cock over your briefs, her eyes filled with childlike glee as they bounce around. Sana licks the front of your underwear and moans with delight as she gets a first taste.

Her slender hands hook into the waistband and gingerly slide it down, holding you steady by the shaft.

"Oppa, it's bigger than I thought." Sana giggles before planting an almost innocent kiss onto the head of your dick.

"What's wrong Sana, don't think you can handle it?" Nayeon scoffs as she plops onto the other end of the couch, her feet tucked into her black skirt.

Sana shoots Nayeon a glare, "Size isn't an issue my dear Nabongs. It's just I haven't really done anything yet and he's so hard already. I love how eager he's being for me."

She emphasizes her last word by rubbing her fingers up your thigh, ending at the base of your shaft, keeping it as straight as possible while her mouth hovers inches above.

"Just suck his cock, I'm not here to watch you talk," Nayeon commands.

"Now, now what's the rush Nayeon?" Sana teases while her hands reach under her shirt and into her bra, tossing them over her shoulder. You're left slack jawed, Sana's cute perky tits previously only a dream. But now they're here, in front of you. She's here, in front of you.

"What's wrong, Oppa?" she whispers "You're acting like you've never seen a pair of tits before." She teases, knowing they're bigger than Nayeon's.

"Do you wanna play with them? It's okay. Here." She pulls your hands towards her, allowing you to squeeze her soft tits.

Your gaze remains locked onto her breasts, unable to fully take in the surreal situation. One second they were out, in a teasing peek and next, you were grasping them like an overeager schoolboy.

"I thought this was about sucking cock Sana."

"Oh Oppa, she's so impatient," Sana whines, "doesn't she know a great blowjob isn't just about sucking cock. It's about the whole experience." Sana teases, placing your cock in-between her breasts, jiggling the skin, stroking you, providing sweet warmth as your tip peaks through with every movement.

"Fuck Sana..."

"Do you like that? Do you like my tits rubbing all over your big hard cock? It's okay if you do."

Nayeon is staring from the corner of your eye. "You're going to have to try harder than that to beat me," she sneers.

"See, he likes it. Isn't that right Oppa?" Sana ignores, bouncing her tits on your cock. "Doesn't that feel nice?" Sana beams at your disheveled face, pleased at your helpless reaction to her tits.

"Mmm, that's so hot, Oppa. It feels so warm sliding up and down." She interlocks her hands together, squeezing her tits together. Her tits aren't big enough to fully cover you, but it's just enough. Your cock presses into the valley of her cleavage as she starts fucking them against you, and a sight unlike any other. Sana has been teasing Nayeon this whole time but when she says those last few words, the sneer and confidence falls off her face, turning into an unadulterated gape.

Her tongue sticks out, licking the tip whenever it pops up from her squishy embrace. "Mmm, Oppa, I can taste you already." Sana kisses your slit with a hungry moan, letting some saliva drip down her chin and onto the space between her breast.

"Uggh. Can you fucking suck it already." You can hear the impatience in Nayeon's tone, finally losing all pretense and sincerity.

"This is just an appetizer," Sana interjects, stopping her jerking movements. A smirk on her lips and and naughty look emerges on her face.

"Oh my god Oppa, I can't believe how wet I am. Look." She slips a hand into her pants, and then takes it out, her fingers glistening with her juices. You look down, seeing your cock still poking up from between her tits, but also her fingers, coated with her juices.

"Here have a taste."Sana brings her index and middle finger to your mouth, gently pushing the liquid inside, tracing your lips as you gulp down her arousal.

She squeals in joy. "Oh Oppa, how naughty of you. Do you like the way I taste, hmm?" Her voice coos, watching your reactions. It's like you're drunk, entranced by the sight before you, stuck in a euphoric daze. Sana's so fucking sexy it makes you wonder if there is any woman alive that could top this.

"Come on Sana, quit fucking around." Nayeon sighs with annoyance.

"Silly, silly Nayeon, the key is making them beg. Don't you want Oppa begging for it?" Sana giggles.

"If there's not some cock sucking action I'm gonna declare myself as the winner."

"So impatient. Ok Oppa, let's give Nayeonie a show she won't forget." Sana gets back between your legs and takes a deep breath, inhaling your musk.

"Oh my god, Oppa, your scent is so intoxicating." Her hot breath is blowing against your cock. "I can't wait any longer. I need to taste you." She places a kiss on the tip, then another, then another, each time lingering a little longer than the last. The tip of her tongue slides along the sides of your cock as Sana explores with a curious excitement.

Nayeon scowls. "So your fucking blow job is going to be taking all day."

"He's just soooo hard." Sana caresses the throbbing appendage with admiration. Her right hand strokes your inner thigh in long soothing motions, the pads of her fingers tracing lines up and down your tense muscle.

It's slow, torturously slow. Light kisses and licks cover every surface of your cock, the feel of her tongue now a sensation rather than individual touches. Her tongue starts to flick against the underside of your tip, sending a shock through your body. You can feel the warmth of her breath, the pressure of her tongue. Her eye contact is unwavering, rubbing your thighs up and down with her soft hands.

You and Sana are now in your own world. A private space for the two of you, separated by both time and distance.

There's an excruciating pause. The room stills. There's no sounds, no movement. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks. You're frozen. You can't breath, can't blink. It's an eternity.

The air moves with the slow grace of a dancer as she sucks you between her lips. Her eyes light up when the tip meets her tongue. Sana sighs, relaxing her shoulders. She lets herself get lost, transported by her desire. With the slow rhythm of a slow song, she slowly sinks lower, deeper.

Sana is worshiping your cock, treating it like it's the only one in the world. She's moaning and humming, sending vibrations through your shaft. As great as it feels, there's a special technique about her, knowing exactly how to keep you from cumming. As if she's been with you for years. She reaches for your hands, interlocking your fingers together, making this feel like a tender loving moment rather than just your run of the mill blowjob.

Her eyes remain fixated on yours, never even once breaking focus. It's one continuous moment until she pulls back for breath. A thick, translucent web stretches between the two of you. A dewy layer of spit is now surrounding your cock, dripping off the sides of her lips. You can feel the edges of her lips form a perfect ring as your cock passes between her lips. She is hypnotic, the speed is torture, but it's impossible to stop looking.

She lets you go, slowly inching up until she's next to your ear. "Oppa, can I tell you a secret?" She's whispering, like she's scared Nayeon will hear.

"Sure."

"I really love doing this, especially when it's a cock like yours. I can't wait to make you cum. I can't wait for you to explode in my mouth.

"I can't either."

"But I wanna make you wait a little bit, cause when you finally cum, it's going to be amazing." She trails a string of saliva down from your ear, running her finger past the puddle of spit still leaking off her chin and finally across your balls. She pecks her lips on the underside of the head, all the while looking like a kid about to play with their new toy.

Nayeon hits you. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Um...yeah," You whisper back. You've nearly forgotten she's here.

She seems satisfied at your answer, but it feels weird admitting that in front of her.

Sana's right back into action, your fingers still interlocked so she's using only her mouth. This time she's focusing on the tip, flicking her tongue and sucking on your head.

"Fuck Sana..."

She chuckles, feeling accomplished, her grin big as can be. The two of you resume your rhythm as you grind your cock against her welcoming cheeks. Slowly working her way down the shaft until her mouth is about halfway down. She inhales, breathing deeply, smiling even with her mouth full.

"God, I love your scent." she moans out seductively on her way back up. The hot air of her words permeate and swirl with your sweat. Her pace is further teasing, steady at first then almost playful as she slows and pauses, relishing the torment it has on you. You can feel her tongue working its way down, swirling around your cock. You're so close to bursting, but she knows just when to stop. Her hands pull away, squeezing your balls, ignoring your shaft, focusing all her attention on them. She's cupping them, massaging them, using her tongue on the one not attended by her hands.

Her hot, wet tongue tickles and warms them as she begins sucking and groping, working in unison. Knowing it felt good, but wouldn't cause you to cum. It's a change in tempo, something else to enjoy until it was time again.

"You're gonna be a good boy and hold out until I've shown Nayeon all my skills right?"

"Oh, so he's your new puppy. At least he's useful," Nayeon is curious, testing the waters, seeing how much she can push her.

Her fingers are tracing circles around your balls, sending shivers up your spine. Her other hand is slowly jerking up and down, sizing you up, using her hand to measure your cock.

"I think I can fit you." Sana calmly states, flashing a wink.

"What? What does that mean?" Nayeon yells out.

"Shush, Nayeon, let me concentrate." She tells her off and returns her eyes to you. They're dark and hungry.

Her hands position the tip between her puckered lips. Nayeon stares at the scene unfolding before her, feeling the waves of lust emanating off of Sana. She's got her hands wrapped around your shaft, holding it like a weapon. Your heart races, eyes closed, feeling the pleasure pulse.

You feel a rush, an impending doom, but one you welcome. A moment of heaven, a moment of hell, it doesn't matter to you. Lower and lower she goes, only a couple inches in and you're already overwhelmed. A surreal bliss radiates, filling your mind with an unbelievable pleasure.

There's moaning and slurping, the sound of her muffled voice vibrating through you. She's going further, inch by inch, her eyes locked with yours, fitting more of your cock into her throat every time she goes back down.

Her pace remains the same as ever, steady and sure. A thrust in, followed by a drag out. Up and down, the same torturous speed, letting the sensation flow through your entire body. There's a smug grin, prideful smile, confident in herself. Her hands roaming your inner thighs, content with her conquest, basking in it.

Nayeon stares, but with a different emotion. You feel the heat of her gaze, the anger behind them.

"It's not possible. His dick is way too big. It'll never fit. I've never even been able to-"

"Hush, Nayeon, we're not talking about you right now." She chides. Her voice is softer, kinder, the commanding tone dropping slightly.

Sana's pace quickens, the sound of her gagging and choking fills the room. Drool is dripping down her chin, and she's going faster and faster. Her nails dig into your thighs, her eyes tearing up as she forces her mouth all the way down. Her cheeks are puffed up and bulging, her neck stretches out.

"Holy shit, Sana." Nayeon jumps out of her seat, her eyes wide.

"Holy shit," you echo, feeling her sharp pointed nose tickling pressing into you.

Her tongue is jittering from the girth filling her mouth, sending wonderful vibrations through you. There's a grunt, she's struggling, straining. Sana holds it there for what seems like forever. Your cock is being squeezed by her throat, and you can feel every breath, every twitch, every swallow. After an eternity, she slides back up, and releases your cock from her throat. A string of spit and precum follows, breaking as she licks her lips. Sana looks pleased with herself, savoring the sight before her.

"Holy fucking shit," Nayeon can't hide the shock, can't help but step closer to get a better look at the ridiculous sight.

"I told you size wouldn't be an issue." Sana winks at Nayeon.

Nayeon scoffs, folding her arms in annoyance.

"Oh Oppa, do you like seeing Nayeon pout? That's such a cute look on her."

There's a few minutes of respite, Sana sucking you down every once in a while but nothing more. It gives you a chance to breathe, a moment to process. The image before you is difficult to process, as if you're having an out of body experience.

"Let me try again. It'll be easier the second time." She's not lying. The next time is even smoother. Her throat is slick with spit and precum, and your cock slides in like a knife through butter. There's sucking and slurping, coating your cock with her saliva. She's going up and down, over and over, and the pleasure is insane.

It's not like she doesn't have a gag reflex, she's using it to her advantage. She's gagging on your cock, spit leaking everywhere, the sounds of her throat a sinful delight. After taking a deep breath her head becomes a blur going faster and faster. Your cock is disappearing and reappearing, over and over again. You can't believe the sight before you. Sana, the picture perfect idol, is deepthroating your cock, gagging and choking herself over and over. Her hands have abandoned you, caressing her throat, stroking where you cock is pushing her insides outward.

She looks up at you with her pretty, innocent eyes. The term cutie sexy starts to make sense, so adorable, yet obscene, like an angel became a slut. You're groaning, and panting, stuck in an endless maze of pleasure.

She's drooling, saliva dripping down your balls to her chin, not even bothering to wipe her mouth. She just keeps bobbing her head up and down, faster and faster, moaning like a pornstar. You can see tears forming in the corners of her eyes. Your cock is throbbing and twitching. You're on the precipice of climax. You can't hold it back any longer.

She brings her mouth up, making a loud pop as she slips you out of her lips. "Oh no Oppa, you can't cum yet. Not until I've showed off all my skills to Nayeon." holding your cock in her hand and slapping it against her tongue.

"What are you doing?" Nayeon questions her, unsure on what else Sana has to show.

"Shush Nayeon, It's only the second round, and I promised Oppa three. This one is my favorite." She coos to you, sweetly kissing your tip.

"Stand up Oppa." You stand before her, looking down on her beautiful messy face. She places your hands on her head.

"Do you wanna fuck my mouth, Oppa?" Sana teases. "Here, grab my hair and shove it in."

You're stunned. This is all happening so fast.

"Come on Oppa, fuck my mouth." She takes your cock back into her mouth, and you feel the pressure from her hands pulling you forward.

There's hesitation on your side, a lingering reservation, a fear of overdoing it. You're a bit unsure, you've never been deepthroated before, yet alone fucked someone's face. You're afraid to hurt her.

Her lips curl upward, smiling like an eager puppy, letting your cock rest, leaving you suspended. With your grip still on her head, Sana waits for you.

"Come on Oppa," Nayeon snarls, "stop being such a pussy. You know she can take it. She just swallowed your whole damn cock in one go. Stop being a little bitch and fuck her face."

You thrust forward, and immediately the pleasure is overwhelming. Her hands are still pushing, and now your hands are pulling. You're thrusting and pulling, fucking her face. The feeling is unlike anything you've felt before. It's wet and sloppy, the sounds of her mouth a depraved melody. Your hips are moving faster and faster, her eyes are wide and full of lust, begging for you to use her.

The reality of the situation sinks in as Sana sucks harder and harder.

You're facefucking Sana. You're fucking an idol with every inch of your hard cock. She's pushing her head into your crotch and you're burying her face.

You're not gentle, you can't be. It's so wet and hot, and the sensation is insane. Her nails are digging into your thighs, and you're grunting and groaning, pounding her throat like an animal. She's slapping her face against your crotch, taking everything you're giving her. She's choking and gagging, drool pouring from her mouth. Her fingers are exploring, stroking the bottom of her throat and her neck.

You're groaning. This is not a blowjob this is something else altogether. Your hands are tight on her head and your mind is hazy. You're so turned on by her. You're mesmerized by her. You can't stop fucking her mouth. She's moaning and crying, but tells you to fuck her harder every time you pull out. You're focused solely on Sana and her perfect mouth. She's not even sucking - just letting you use her mouth as a cocksleeve. Her tongue is flicking over your tip whenever it enters her mouth. And it's so fucking hot.

You're at your limit. You can't hold it in anymore. You're gonna explode. And then Sana wraps her hands around your ass and squeezes, pulling you closer, forcing you to push deeper into her mouth, your balls pressed against her chin.

"Sana, I'm gonna -"

And that's her cue, her throat constricting and contracting, massaging your head while it's buried deep inside. You didn't even know this was possible. Her final trick. Her ace in the hole. A sense of pleasure that previously only existed beyond your wildest dreams. Your body tenses, and then you let go, the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced in your life, mouth or otherwise. The world goes white and the only thing you're aware of is the warmth and wetness of Sana's throat.

Cum explodes into her mouth, filling her up. She can't take it all, it's too much, and she coughs, and chokes. She pulls off, harshly stroking your cock with her hand. You're still cumming, some landing on her face, her tits, in her hair. Your entire body is shaking.

"Fuck," you groan, collapsing onto the couch. She taps on your thighs and opens her mouth, showing you the pool of creamy liquid collected on her tongue.

"Oppa, you came so much!" she says after gulping down the mouthful.

"I swallowed so much and there's still so much on me." She's scooping your cum off her face, licking her fingers clean, moaning with every drop she swallows. Her breasts are covered, and she's gathering as much of it as she can, putting her hands between her legs, scooping up any drops that landed on her thighs. She takes your hand and puts it on her chest, covering her nipple with your cum, rubbing it around her nipple, teasing it with your sticky seed.

"I told you Nayeon! An explosion! Cum everywhere!" Sana winks and teases her with a wag of her tongue.

Nayeon rolls her eyes.

Sana goes back for more, sucking your cock until every last drop has been extracted. She's cleaning you off with her tongue, kissing the head of your cock, and then she's rubbing her face on it, like a cat nuzzling her owner. "Mmm so good," she coos.

"That's enough, you've proven your point."

"Aww, but Nayeon, look how cute he is, all tired and sweaty." Sana pouts, giving your cock one last kiss before getting up.

"Yeah, well, you look like a total slut." Nayeon snaps. "Seriously, you've got cum all over your face, your hair's a mess. Not to mention, there's a fucking puddle of spit on the floor."

"So?"

"So? Do you have any idea what would happen if someone saw you like this?"

"They'd fall in love with me." Sana teases. "Oppa did."

"Don't give me that shit. You know what? Fine, you proved your point. I guess I owe you a favor." Nayeon takes a deep breath and then exhales, bracing herself. "Whatever you want, just do it quick, and don't tell anyone, okay."

"I'm so fucking horny after all of that." She looks at you, then back at Nayeon. "Threesome?" She's fluttering her eyelashes, acting more innocent than she has all evening.

"Th-threesome?" You stammer.

"Of course." Sana says, matter of factly. "You didn't think I was going to leave without taking care of myself did you?"

"Wait a second, I never said I'd do that!"

"Come on, we're both so horny, I'll bet Oppa is hard again just thinking about us making out. I bet he's already got a load saved up. Besides, he's already fucked my throat. How much worse could it get?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"Please? Please, please, please? Pretty please, Nayeon? Oh, does this help? I swear I have the best pussy around, guys can't help but explode inside of me. Want me to prove it?" She was stripping as she spoke, not a shred of shyness or timidness anywhere to be seen.

"Oppa, look." She moans, sliding her fingers out and showing the string of sticky fluids connected to them. "Look how wet I am. You did this to me. All that talk about cocks and cumming. I'm so fucking horny. And it's all because of you." She slides her fingers back inside, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I'm so close to cumming."

"You're the worst." Nayeon snaps, grabbing her hand and pulling it out of her pussy. "Fine, whatever, but only cuz you won the bet. I'm not doing this because I want to."

"I love you, Nayeonie!" Sana squeals, throwing her arms around her friend. "Come on Oppa! Don't leave us hanging. We'll be waiting in your room." Sana grabs her clothes and skips away, leaving Nayeon alone with you.

"This is such bullshit. Why did she have to be so good at that? Ugh.." Nayeon mumbles. "Come on, I don't wanna keep her waiting...."

[hearts4golbach]

hello can you please write a Johnnie x fem reader smut but Jake walks in on us?<3

Fantasies.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warning: just filth bru, 18+ smut, unprotected sex (use protection), oral sex (f receiving)

you didn't expect yourself to be ending your night pinned against a counter top by Johnnie. sure, his bed, maybe even the shower, but definitely not the kitchen. embarrassingly enough, it was one of your fantasies. by accident, your boyfriend found that out and had been teasing you about it endlessly. so, you weren't necessarily surprised he took his chance. Jake and Carrington told the two of you they'd be out clubbing all night, and Johnnie decided to stay home with you. that's how you got to where you were in that moment.

you reached behind you, bracing yourself on the counter. your fingers dug into the rock as Johnnie placed his hands on either side of you, holding you against the counter. his lips were smashed against yours, teeth occasionally clashing. he needed you bad. almost as bad as you needed him. you bucked your hips forward, grinding against his clothed hard on.

“fuck,” he grunted, placing his hands under your ass and helping you hop up on top of the counter. excitement coursed through your body. you and Johnnie were always looking for ways to spice up sexual encounters. this was perfect. “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, “prove it.” you purred, pulling him in again. his slender fingers snaked inside of the waist band of your shorts and pulled them off, tossing them on the floor next to the two of you. “fuck, Johnnie, please.”

he kissed down your neck, targeting your soft spot. he bit and sucked dark hickeys on your neck, which didn’t happen often. you two liked to keep your life in the ‘bedroom’ private. that’s how you could tell Johnnie was hella turned on tonight. he left your shirt on, even though he was kind of bummed out at the thought of not having access to your tits. he clawed at your panties, leaving sloppy kisses on your thighs as he pulled the lace number off of your body. he quickly placed a towel down under you to prevent from getting the counters dirty with your fluids.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he teased, “i didn’t know the thought of me fucking you in the kitchen turned you on this fucking much.” he smirked, wrapping his hands around your thighs and licking a stripe up your pussy.

you arched your back, one hand leaving the counter to tangle in his raven colored hair. his hair was already so messy, which you loved, but you wanted is messier. his hands moved to your lower back, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter so he had better access. his tongue flicked your clit. a loud moan fell from your lips as you pleaded for him to give you more. “fuck, oh my god.”

“so needy tonight, love.” he murmured, looking up at you from between your legs. his eyes fluttered closed again as he began to lick up all of your juices. Johnnie knew how to use his tongue, that’s for sure. he went to town, lapping at your hole and clit. he made sure to pay attention to every part of your pussy.

his tongue teased your entrance before entering, licking around inside of you. you tried to praise him, but the only noises coming out of your mouth were moans. your eyes fluttered closed as well. you threw your head back, deep moans flowing out of your mouth.

he went back and sucked on your clit. your moans became more high pitched as you felt your climax approaching. your pussy was clenching around nothing as Johnnie attacked your pussy. he ate you like it was his last meal, and you loved it. he pulled away from your clit, making a popping noise as he stood up. you whimpered from the loss of friction. “Johnnie-“

he shushed you, dragging you off the counter. “turn around, baby.”

god, he knew how to talk to you. you did as he said, turning around and bending over the counter. you moved the towel, throwing it onto the ground with your discarded clothes. you arched your back, slightly wiggling to catch Johnnies attention.

“fuck,” he said for the millionth time. Johnnie felt as if he could never get enough of you. he gathered the mixture of his spit and your juices with two fingers, making you flinch at the sudden feeling. he spread the residue over his hard cock. he rubbed his tip through your folds, murmuring sweet praises through his staggered breaths. “you ready?”

“yes, please. i’m more than re-“ he cut you off as he slid inside of you, bottoming out. a loud moan escaped your lips as you felt him fill you up.

he gripped your hips tightly as he began to thrust. he started slow at first. quiet but needy moans came from both of you. you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling him stretch you out. his hands slid up your back, pushing you down onto the counter. your back arched, giving him a better angle. his tip hit your g-spot, making you whimper and moan out his name. Johnnie loved hearing you moan his name. he sped up his thrusts, his only goal in the moment to make you cum all over his cock.

“god, you feel so good. you’re doing amazing for me.” he also knew you loved whenever he praised you. Johnnie knew how to hit all of the right chords inside of you. you could’ve came just from what he said.

he sped up his pace, his thrusts relentless. your eyes rolled back in your head as you couldn’t help the noises coming from you. the sounds of skin slapping together filled the kitchen, but it didn’t help cover up the moans and grunts coming from you and Johnnie. “fuck, i’m so close, baby.” you informed him.

“oh, shit. fuck, sorry, guys.” you whipped your head around to see Jake covering his eyes and walking out of the room. “i’m leaving! i just needed my card.” he snickered from the other room.

you and Johnnie sat there stunned. it was another moment of silence before you and Johnnie broke out into laughter. “at least it wasn’t Carrington.”

[ghostfacd]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW. | LH43

pairing: fratboy!luke x fem!reader

summary: you finally break the news to your boyfriend about what’s been going on

warnings: pregnancy, sexual implications, I think that’s it ??

au masterlist

You know that feeling when you just know you’re inlove? When nothing else around matters, when all you can hear is the laugh of that person — and your own laughter — and when bad things, just for a moment, disappear completely.

Luke Hughes felt that about you. Y/N James, or he preferred it — Lovie, because you were the love of his life.

His frat brothers would probably snicker at Luke if they had took a look into his brain and thoughts, but he could care less. Sure, they were very close to one another, but his frat brothers had absolutely no idea what love was. They knew the concept, but they slept with girls faster than they’d change their clothes.

Luke wasn’t about that life, he wanted more, he wanted someone who he’d actually spend nights talking to about the future, not just someone who could warm his bed at night.

“Luke,” you sniffle, watching the boy in front of you bring his vision back to focus. “Are you mad?”

Luke blinks. He had almost forgotten where he was — in your dorm, holding onto your shaking hands. Just moments earlier, you had blurted out a sentence that made his jaw drop.

“I’m pregnant.”

Unlike his frat brothers who would automatically question the girl if the baby was even his; Luke knew down to his core. You were loyal, and so was he, so it didn’t take much braincells to know that the baby was most definitely his.

“Mad? Lovie, I could never be mad at you.” His heart breaks at your distressed state, bringing your head towards him to place a kiss on. “I’d never be mad at something that we both caused. It wasn’t just you, it was me as well.”

You let out a small sob, shaking your head as you rested it deeper into Luke’s chest. You were stressed, being a sophomore in college while also raising a baby didn’t seem so ideal. Plus, Luke being part of a fraternity and student athlete meant he was going to be busy for most of the time

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” you say. “We should’ve been more careful.”

“I know,” Luke coos, rubbing your back comfortingly.

He remembered the date it possibly could’ve happened on. Him and you had quite a bit to drink at a party his fraternity was hosting, and before the two of you knew it, you had ended up in his room, clothes discarded on the floor.

Luke vaguely remembers reaching for his bedside stool, where he usually kept his condoms. Only this time, it’s empty. One of his frat brothers, Nick, had asked to have a few just a day earlier.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “I’ll take Plan B.”

Clearly, that didn’t work. And you had a perfect two lined pregnancy test to prove it.

“Well,” Luke lets out a breathy exhale. “Luckily, baby Hughes will have 2 uncles that will spoil them to death.”

You giggle at that, imagining a little you and Luke running around the house while Quinn and Jack chased them.

“We’ll be okay,” Luke reassures you.

“And if we won’t?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” the brunette boy lets out a laugh. “All you need to worry about now is keeping baby Hughes healthy.”

You roll your eyes jokingly, nodding as you leaned into the comfort of his touch.

[redheadspark]

can i have benedict bridgerton x reader prompt #24

A/N - This is great for Benedict, thanks for requesting this

Pebble

Summary - After an argument, you think of the worst. Benedict, however, proves you wrong.

Warnings - Angst with a hint of fluff at the end.

You hated this, seeing the door shut in front of you.  It was a clear sign that your significant other who was on the otherside of the door was still mad.  At least to you it was a sign.

You and Benedict rarely fought, and when you did it would be something very small and mundane.  Nearly a small spat really and nothing else to worry about, which was clear evidence of your marriage and your love for one another.  You two deeply loved each other, going through your own trials and tribulations as a couple before and after your marriage.  

But this, this scared you.

Benedict rarely fought with you, it was not in his nature.  He had an aloof soul that was a contrast to your own stubbornness.  It was not new, you need to be right from time to time.  A constant struggle on your end since you would get yourself in trouble from time to time as a young lady.  But Benedict never saw that as a bad thing, he saw the true sweetness that you had and the love you had for him.  You would always reel in your emotions and your hard-headedness when it would get too far.  Benedict was always your anchor, making sure you didn’t go overboard or too far.  You found that to be a blessing, a true blessing in your life.  

So now that you and Benedict had a fight, and you felt like the worst wife on the planet. 

You were about to tap on the door with your knuckles, thinking of the worst and that Benedict was still fuming at you for how you were going down his throat and spraying him with your words.  Your heart was pounding, and your head was replaying all the nasty things you said to him that you knew weren’t true and were all lies.  

Yet suddenly, the door was thrown open and Benedict stood in front of you.

His eyes were wide and almost calm, no longer looking angry as he did moments before.  He actually looked rather calm and collected, which threw you off as he scanned your face.  You were suddenly overwhelmed with all that was said, all of the mean things that came out of your mouth, and all of the resentment that was festering inside of you that was unlashed on your kind and loving husband.  

Within a second, you were crying and hiding your face in your hands.  

“Darling,” You heard him say, then wrapping you in his arms and tucking you into his arms.  You breathe him in as you cried, the tears shitting his shirt while his own fingers were rubbing along your shoulders and upper back.  This was not what you expected from your husband, yet again you were expecting him to reprimand you which was not in his nature at all.  But for him to hug you, to make you feel safe as you wept in guilt, it surprised you and scared you at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccuped in his chest, feeling him kiss the top of your head as you were now clinging onto him and shaking from the tears, “I-I-I didn’t m-m-mean any of it—“

“It’s okay,” he hummed against your head, you freezing in his hold as his voice was sounding so calm and sure.  It shocked you to hear that from him, making you look up from your spot and see him look down at you with fondness in his eyes.  

“I said…all of those things to you!” You tried to explain to him, knowing you were in the wrong in the fight, “None of it was true, and you didn’t deserve any of it,”

“My love,” He cooed, leaning down to frame your face in his hands,  The tears on your cheeks and the wide eyes you were giving him, Benedict could see the pain and sense it.  You were always so strong and confident in who you were and in how you carried yourself.  But that also came at a price with your hardheadedness and need to be right constantly.  It was not what you wanted to inflict on your husband, the one person who showed you true love. 

Yet you did, and it felt beyond terrible.

“It’s in the past now, okay?” He asked you calmly, brushing away the tears with his thumbs and giving you a sweet smile, “I know you never meant any of those words, and I know this fight we had is nothing we cannot put behind us.”

“Even after—“ You were about to question him some more, not understanding how he could let it go and not be angry with you.  But he silenced you with a kiss, a soothing kiss that made your mind go blank.  He had that way with you when he would kiss you, able to let you get out of your head for a brief moment. It was one of the great things you adored about Benedict, his way of making you feel loved with a simple kiss.  And even then, when you were feeling low while wearing a tear-stained dress and having a battered heart, Benedict never walked away from you.

He pulled away and nuzzled your noses together, his eyes still so soft with him and his face along your jawline feeling beyond delicate like he was holding a jewel, “I love you far too much to let an argument stop us,” 

His selfless and caring heart was far too massive, and to hear he was willing to forget about the fight, to let it float away in the wind and no longer fester in it, made you love him all the more. You considered yourself so lucky to have him love you, to feel that love every day when you two would fall asleep in each other’s arms.  There were more positive days than negative, and Benedict only proved it now letting a fight simply evaporate and not fester.

“I think we should turn in for the night,” he explained to you, though you rose a brow to him.

“What about our dinner with your family?” You asked, seeing him shrug as he laced your fingers together lovingly.  

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind us missing one family meal, we can always go next week.  Besides, I would rather be with the love of my life and enjoy my evening with her,” He explained, seeing you finally smiling for the first time that night. Benedict showed you how to not let a single argument or fight to rip your love apart or make you think the worst.  Deep down you knew that he still loved you, that he knew you still loved him.

This was merely a small pebble in a river, not a boulder.

The End 

May Prompt Session