#what’s one or two more weeks. right. right

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

part two

[imstillalexcomic]

Not really sure what to say for this one.  We all know what’s happening in America right now and it’s not even a “put your ear to the ground to hear what’s coming” type of situation, there have been executive orders that specifically target transgender people.

The writing isn’t on the wall, it’s on government documents.

The phone call described in this strip happened a few months ago, before I came out publicly.  As you can imagine, it only made me more fearful of coming out.  If this person who I love and trust so much that they were one of the first folks I came out to over five years ago didn’t understand why what’s happening is so terrifying, why this bigotry needs to be completely shut down immediately, how could the bigots themselves understand?

Part of my position was that there were television ads being run showing transgender folks as these disgusting people, something less than human that are deserving of ridicule and are a drain on the country’s resources and a danger to children.

According to them, my terror of seeing me be advertised as that way was just me being alarmist, that the people that I’m afraid of aren’t going to do anything and that there shouldn’t be any fear of danger.

We’re two weeks in, and already there’s legal action being taken to strip me and people like me of not just their rights, but their humanity.

It’s hard.  On one hand, I do understand their position that I should try to be a source of education, to try to bridge the gap to these people.  I agree not in the sense that it should be my responsibility, but in that it feels like the only practical thing I can do.

On the other hand, what can I possibly do in the face of so much hatred?

I have family members who’ve voted for this.  People who might say they have love in their hearts but voted to label certain people as sub-human. 

I don’t know how they can reconcile that.

I don’t know how I can reconcile with them.  I’m not just disappointed, I’m genuinely frightened.  I don’t want to sound like the world is crashing down around us, but in a way it really is.  Many of the folks who’ve voted this way don’t even realize what they were doing, the rest of them knew and didn’t care.

I don’t know which is worse.

[kirbmey]

— being bigbrother!caleb´s pervy lil sis (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

synopsis: caleb didn’t think about the consequences of taking advantge of you, he didn’t even think you could do the same to him.

tw: somno, cnc, you are a lil perv girl, stepcest as always, based on a request!, you horny little shit ><, caleb is bulking omg, you drug him, no dialogues, mentions of colonel caleb, etc.

you rolled out of bed after checking your bedside table clock, 3 am. the cold winter breeze hit your skin when you got out of the covers, walking your way towards caleb’s room on your tippy toes to avoid making any sound.

you started doing this a week or two ago, when you began to feel needier and needier; your period approaching but you didn’t want to bother your big brother, he already fucked you enough throughout the day; not enough for you apparently.

even like this you still needed his touch, the warmth of his skin against your own. so one day you thought of sneaking into the darkness of his room, trying to find the way to his bed without tripping.

the absence of any source of light but the faint moon glow wasn’t a problem for you, being able to see caleb’s angelic features while he peacefully slept, his dark locks framing his cheekbones and long eyelashes adorning his closed eyes.

you lifted up the covers with ease, quickly taking seat on top of his lap before the cool air could wake him up, motioning your hands to caress his naked chest, noticing how they were juicier than they used to, how his ripped abs were now slightly less defined; but how he was bigger.

that was more than enough to remind you the reason why you were here once again, another night in a row.

caleb was a light sleeper, ever since you were kids he would wake up to the slight noise or touch, but the pill you slipped in his dinner was more than enough to knock him down. it was funny how easily you managed to take advantage of him despite his big size and obviously superior strength.

there was no use on being strong if he couldn’t even wake up, right? <3

you sit back on top of his muscular and soft thighs, leaving space to observe his black boxers covering the prize you so eagerly yearned for. you didn’t waste any time, pulling them down and therefore freeing his soft cock, which was lazily laying on his pelvis.

it was as asleep as him.

you didn’t mind, caleb showed you tricks to wake it up and you used them, oh you did use them.

still sat on his thighs you didn’t notice the back and forth motion you settled to ease the wetness between your legs while you pampered his dick carefully, grabbing the base of his big cock with one tiny hand while the other one jerked it off up and down slowly.

he shifted around as he grew harder, but after doing this a few times you learnt he wouldn’t wake up; it was practically impossible.

soft moans and whimpers left his lips in his sleep and you couldn’t help but imitate these sounds, laying your head on his shoulder when you began to feel dizzy because of the approaching orgasm.

the moment caleb came undone in your hands, staining them with warm and creamy cum you fumbled, your panties so wet it made his skin sticky with your own release, crying in the crook of his neck as you tried to calm your breath and regain composure.

after cuming you’d always left his room as you entered; quiet and steady, going back to your bed and hugging your plushie as you fell asleep with a happy smile drawn on your lips.

but what you didn’t know is that caleb found that tiny pill you tried to hide in his dinner the first night, and ever since he played along.

ever since becoming a colonel he learnt how to pay attention to every detail, every move, every slight difference. and you weren’t good at hiding things, not to him. he knew you too well.

still, he made you believe he was completely oblivious to your plans and let you take anything you needed from him.

after all he loved spoiling you in every way, shape or form.

a/n: sosososo sorry for taking so long to post a new writing, I’m just incredibly busy these days and can’t find time :( hope you enjoyed this one!

— masterlist.

[loafysainz]

DONT GO DADDY | LN 4

lando norris!dad x reader!mom

no warn

hope you guys enjoy it!!

Lando had two more days at home before he had to leave for the next race weekend. Two days before he’d have to pack his bags, say goodbye, and be away for who-knows-how-long.

The thing is—his kids didn’t even know that yet.

Noah and Leo, his little shadows, had been extra clingy lately. Usually, Leo was glued to their mom, a total mama’s boy, while Noah was more independent. But this past week? The two of them were stuck to Lando like glue. If he so much as stepped out of the room, one (or both) would come running, calling out for him like he was about to disappear forever.

Like right now.

Lando was just sorting through some stuff in the living room when he suddenly felt two tiny pairs of arms wrap around his legs. He glanced down, finding Noah and Leo latched onto him, looking up with teary eyes.

“What’s up, little dudes?” he teased, ruffling Noah’s curls while patting Leo’s head. “Why are you guys crying, huh?”

Noah sniffled. “Daddy… hug.”

Leo nodded aggressively, arms still wrapped tight around Lando’s leg. “Want hug, Daddy.”

Lando crouched down, opening his arms. “Ohhh, you want me to hug you? Come here then.”

And just like that, his two little monsters launched themselves into his chest, squeezing him like their lives depended on it. Lando chuckled, lifting them both up in his arms.

“What’s gotten into you two, huh? You’ve been extra cuddly this week.”

Noah pouted, gripping Lando’s hoodie. “Don’t go.”

Lando blinked. “Go where?”

Leo’s lips wobbled. “Work.”

Noah, never one to be left out, “Yeah! We miss you when you go!”

Ah. They didn’t know he was leaving in two days, but somehow, they felt it.

And just like that, Lando’s heart completely melted. He sighed, rubbing their backs as they both continued to sniffle into his hoodie.

“Daddy’s right here, baby,” he murmured, rocking them gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“But later you go work again.” Noah mumbled, his little fingers fisting Lando’s hoodies like he was scared he’d disappear right then and there.

Lando exhaled, tilting his head back for a second before pressing a kiss to both their foreheads. “You know why Daddy goes to work, right?”

They both shook their heads, big eyes still filled with tears.

“I go so I can make money,” he explained gently. “And you know what money gets us?”

Noah thought about it for a second. “Ice cream?”

Lando chuckled. “Yes, and toys. And our house. And everything we need. If I don’t go, then we don’t get those things.”

Leo sniffled. “But I just want you.”

Lando swore his heart physically hurt. He pulled them both in even tighter. “I know, buddy. And I want to be here too. But I promise, I’ll always come back. And when I do, we’ll have fun as much as you want, okay?”

After a few more minutes of calming them down, their little bodies finally relaxed against him. The house was quiet except for their soft breathing, and Lando realized they had completely passed out on him—Leo using his arm as a pillow, and Noah curled up into his side.

That was exactly how his wife—y/n found them when she walked in.

She paused in the doorway, eyes widening at the rare moment of silence. Usually, their house was a warzone of giggles and chaos, but right now? It was peaceful. Too peaceful.

She tiptoed closer, peeking into the family room, and immediately felt her heart melt. There they were—her three favorite people, all tangled up on the couch, fast asleep.

Lando had one arm draped protectively over both boys, his head resting against the back of the couch. Noah was tucked under his chin, while Leo had somehow managed to shove himself into Lando’s side, one tiny hand gripping his hoodie even in sleep.

She smiled to herself, shaking her head fondly.

Yeah. She was definitely taking a picture of this.

[hannieehaee]

CREEP

18+ / mdi

summary: jungkook's in love. finally, after years of waiting for that perfect romance, he finds himself utterly infatuated with the perfect girl. too bad she has no idea who he is. but it's okay, he knows enough about you for the two of you, and he'll make sure to work his way into your life.

content: stalker!jungkook, clueless!reader, lowkey inspired by you from netflix, stalking, reader is surveilled by jk without her permission, smut, afab reader, masturbation (both m and f receiving), jk watches her have sex and masturbating, penetrative sex, creampie, finger sucking, etc.

wc: 10.2k

a/n: my first sort of dark toxic fanfic everyone say yay!!! also please do not read if these themes offend you thank youuuu

masterlist

You'd gone on another date tonight.

This was the fifth one this month.

Always a different guy. Jungkook had been keeping count.

It was hard to not let it get to him. Sure, he was aware that you didn't owe him anything, and much less did he feel as if he held any sort of ownership over you, bu the more men he beheld in your presence, the less patience he had.

Jungkook knew you to be a smart girl. You were a well put-together adult, an incredibly confident and intelligent woman who needed no protection from anyone. It was one of the many things that made him fall for you. It was just the decisions you took in regard to your love life that left Jungkook bothered.

He tried not to judge you, truly he did, but seeing you go from one idiot to another pained him. Intimately so. While aware that you needed to get all these idiots out of your system, Jungkook just wasn't sure how much longer he could hold back as he watched you with this week's respective idiotic bachelor.

This time around, it was some idiot named Liam.

To the naked eye, he might've been a good pick — which is why you'd even given him the time of day, Jungkook assumed. He was tall, — but Jungkook was taller — he was fit, — but Jungkiok fitter — he had okay money — except it was none compared to Jungkook — he had everything the average woman would look for in a man. Truly, Jungkook could not blame you for thinking this might be the right guy.

But, at the same time, you sometimes had the tendency to rush things. Or at least that was what Jungkook had noticed after the past few months of watching you.

The same had happened with Liam.

After messaging for about a week, you'd found yourself at a late night date.

It was the usual. Dinner, walk around a nearby park, and finalizing with a solicitous invitation to your apartment. That much was fine with Jungkook. He didn't care (well, he very much did). A man vying for your affections was not shocking to him. You were perfect. Jungkook was certain of it.

It was what happened behind closed doors that churned his insides out.

Maybe it had been a bad idea when Jungkook decided to install a camera in your apartment, but he couldn't help himself. It had seemed inviting at the time. You had been gone on a family vacation for a week, leaving your place completely vacant, too inviting for him to not take the chance to look around.

And look around, he did.

Out of all the time in which he'd known you, that had been the best day of all. Getting to be in an environment tailored to you and by you had been heaven.

He laid on your bed, letting himself be engulfed by the scent of your shampoo on your pillow. He'd chuckled at all the adorable plushies scattered throughout your place. He'd installed his cameras, ensuring the ability to supervise in case the occasion were to come up.

But his most favorite had been the souvenirs he'd taken with him. The pretty lace set he'd taken as a memento to ensure he had a little piece of you with him at all times.

Currently, as he went over today's events whilst in bed, that pretty set sat on his pillow — on the side of the bed he decided would be yours as soon as he made you his ...

Going back to more pressing matters. That idiot, Liam.

God, even thinking about how the night had ended made him angry. How did you pick these guys? Well, Jungkook knew the how (usually some shitty dating app), but he just couldn't understand the why.

Your dinner had been subpar at best. Liam had picked the shittiest 'fancy' restaurant available. He had ordered for you (whilst picking the cheapest options available), hadn't even bothered to buy you quality wine, and took a ten-minute bathroom break halfway through dinner — which he had spent on some stupid phone call to a buddy of his. Talk about priorities.

Going back home, he parked too far from your apartment for some stupid reason or other, choosing to walk you under a thinly-veiled pretense to make sure you arrived home safely. Instead, he went home with you despite not deserving such privilege.

This time around, Jungkook could tell that you weren't too enthusiastic to allow him in, but it seemed ritualistic to you by now. He argued that maybe you wanted at least one thing to come out of the date, even if that was just some meaningless sex.

Except that the sex had been even worse than anything that came prior.

At first, Jungkook felt morally ambiguous as he watched the live feed of the camera he'd installed in your apartment, but considering that he had already followed you to your date (under disguise, of course), this wasn't all that bad.

The foreplay had been nonexistent (his first mistake, Jungkook was very well aware), leaving you dissatisfied before it all even began. Barely wet and not stimulated at all, you laid there, letting that undeserving idiot do a novice's job at fingering you. Jungkook caught onto the winces on your face as the dumbass worked you with zero finesse. It was a complete disaster that left you just as dry as you'd been since walking through the door.

The worst part of all had been the actual sex itself. Jungkook was genuinely appalled at Liam's ability to get gradually worse as the night progressed.

For starters, you didn't cum. Jungkook would've been able to spot a fake orgasm from you from miles away. You gave a great performance, he had to admit. Had he been any other idiot (re: Liam), he might've believed you. But he knew all your tells. Despite how pretty you looked, how ruinous you sounded, he knew that you'd fabricated that scene to get Liam to stop trying to make you cum to no avail.

Liam, though, had the night of his life. Of this, Jungkook was sure. He needed no confirmation for it, but he received it in the form of many incoming messages you got the following morning. After kicking Liam out the previous night, — under the premise that you had work early the next morning (because you were far too nice to tell him to get fucked) — you awoke to messages from the idiot wondering when part two would come.

Jungkook scoffed at the messages, itching to respond but knowing that if he did, he'd give away that he'd hacked into your accounts. However, he was happy to see that you'd let him down, using one excuse or another as to why you shouldn't go on a second date.

This was the usual routine you followed.

Or at least in the past three months in which Jungkook had been watching you. But now things would be different.

Because Jungkook had finally had enough.

It was time for you to meet the love of your life.

Jungkook's decision to finally make his way into your life was inspired by a message exchange you'd had with your friend slightly prior to your escapade with that idiot.

You'd been frustrated, unwilling to continue with this stupid back and forth with guys who did not deserve you (your words, though Jungkook fully agreed). This was your last attempt, you'd sworn. You'd give up on dating sites from then on, thus giving up on dating in general, because, according to you, the current state of dating did not exist in real life. Romance was dead, you'd claimed, disheartened by how many failed talking stages you'd been through and by the amount of men disinterested in more than simple one-night stands.

So, Jungkook swore something to himself.

He swore that he'd be the man to change your mind. He'd let you exhaust yourself with worthless men and come swoop you off your feet.

For months, he'd prepared for this. Everything about you, he knew. If there was any man perfect for you, it was him.

He liked to think that he was your type already — tall, handsome, smart, financially intelligent, romantic. He had everything you wanted in a man. All he had to do now was swoop into your life and make his interest be known.

But there was a problem.

As much as Jungkook liked you, — and as much as he believed you'd like him back — he was scared. Among all his attributes was a shyness that appeared to only show up when it concerned you. There'd been various instances in which he'd been itching to meet you, to cut his research short and kneel before you, begging you to give him a chance. But this had proved impossible to him. It was one of the reasons as to why he hadn't just grown the balls to speak to you in the first place.

Under his logic, it was better to study you from afar. To learn everything about who he was sure would become the love of his life. Everything about you was perfect to him from the moment he saw you. He could not risk letting you get away; disappointing you by not being the man you needed.

So he watched you from afar. He learned what to do, what not to do.

By now, he knew everything he needed to know. He knew in which ways to impress you, in which ways to ensure he wouldn't drive you away. It was just his constant anxieties about meeting you that prevented him from approaching you sooner.

Though, technically, you'd already met.

It had been brief. He was sure you didn't even remember it. Yet it was a life-changing moment for him.

It had been his turn to do a coffee run at the firm he worked at. Despite holding an important position within the company, his department had been looking for a replacement assistant for a while, leaving the more menial tasks up to the higher ups (re: Jungkook and a few others).

Upon arriving at the nearest coffee shop, there you were.

Jungkook remembered every detail about you on that day. Your hair had been done the way you usually did it, but your lipstick had been a particular shade of red he'd been itching to see you wear again.

Speaking to you had been a feat. His eyes remained on the counter the whole time, stumbling over his words a bit when you'd cracked some joke that you'd likely practiced for new customers. Jungkook wasn't usually like this. Your beauty had just caught him completely off-guard, leaving him looking like a gaping idiot.

You were beautiful, charming, and overall just a goddess in Jungkook's eyes.

It had been on that day that he'd decided that his life would now revolve around getting you to be his.

Jungkook had a tendency to get everything he wanted anyways. Wealth just happened to do that to a person.

~

The day that he'd meticulously planned for months had arrived.

Jungkook had practically jumped out of his seat when Jimin stepped out of his office to inquire as to who would be getting their usual drinks this time around. He tried not to be obvious about it, but he couldn't let this day go to waste. He'd even done his hair in a way he knew you liked (at least based on your prior dating history), donning a suit that perfectly showed off his body line, accentuating his muscles while also letting the dip of his waist show.

He felt frivolous, but the mere thought of you enjoying his appearance made him appreciate himself all the better.

Stepping out, there was a pep in his step. The knowledge that he'd finally — officially — meet the girl of his dreams had him over the moon. Taehyung had even eyed him weirdly when he noticed his uncharacteristic enthusiasm on a random Tuesday morning. Jungkook simply brushed him off. Nothing was going to derail him today.

Today would be the start of the rest of his life. Nothing had mattered as much as this moment.

As he stood in front of your place of work, he hesitated a bit.

The glass doors gave him a perfect view of you working behind the coffee bar. He stayed there, watching you from afar, for a few moments. Not minding the buzzling in and out of the coffee shop, he remained there, attempting to psych himself up to finally make a move.

Would you remember him?

No, of course not. Why would you?

Your one and only meeting had been three months ago. It had been such a fleeting moment, yet it had left such a long-standing effect on him. Jungkook hoped maybe that had been mutual, but according to your messaging history, that was not the case.

Shaking his head of any irrelevant thoughts, he finally stepped forward, hand landing on the door to push it open. And then, there you were.

You weren't paying attention to him as he stepped towards the counter. No, you were wiping the table — always doing something, always working. Jungkook knew this about you. You had a habit to keep yourself busy at all times. You liked feeling useful. He really liked this about you.

When he finally settled his feet right across from you, you looked up with a slight jump. Jungkook even noticed you do a quick double-take at his appearance.

"Oh, uh hi! Welcome. What can I get for you today?", you cleared your throat with a smile.

"Morning," he smiled back, sheepish, "Sorry, it's a bit of a big order. I'm on coffee run duty today," he said as he handed you the slip of paper containing his floor's orders of choice.

"Oh, yeah for sure," you grabbed the note, incidentally brushing your fingers.

Jungkook had to do a double take himself when he noticed a slight blush on your cheeks at the contact. He couldn't let his confidence falter, but the internal satisfaction at even the slightest reciprocation already had him beaming.

Was it really working? He hadn't even done anything yet. Maybe catering his looks to your liking really did have its intended effect.

You excused yourself from the counter and walked over to the side to begin preparing the drinks. Jungkook, being as determined as he was, trailed along, not minding the glass above the counter separating customers from baristas. Dumbly, he watched as you made the drinks, occasionally catching your eye and chuckling when you'd giggle.

"Is coffee making that interesting to you?", you chuckled, head tilting in curiosity but not once stopping your work.

"The sight is fascinating for sure," he hummed.

You faltered a bit after that, grip on the cup needing readjustment due to his unexpected flirting. Jungkook, on the contrary, maintained his posture. His eyes remained on yours and a small smile graced his lips.

"Okay, damn," you murmured under your breath. You tried to suppress a flustered smile, but Jungkook still caught it.

"Too forward? I thought maybe it was too subtle," he chuckled.

You set aside one of the drinks, moving onto the next one. If Jungkook didn't know any better, he might've thought you were taking your time.

"Do you do this to all service workers or am I just special?"

"Maybe you're just special," he began, "I can't lie, you might've caught my eye last time I was here," he admitted.

Half-truths were okay.

"Oh? I don't remember you. Remind me?"

Your tone had turned higher, maybe even flirtatious. Luck was on Jungkook's side today.

He'd known you to like guys who were a little forward — or at least that's what you'd texted your best friend after another failed date with a guy who couldn't mumble his way out of a single compliment. Apart from attempting to physically embody your type, he'd also decided to act in every way he knew you'd be extra responsive to.

Luckily for Jungkook, it appeared as if your type was pretty much just him.

"Hmm," he pretended to ponder over it, "Too little time. Maybe I could stop by after your shift and remind you then. It was a life-changing experience, I have lots to say."

A truth hidden behind a joke. He was doing good at this.

Another giggle left your lips, almost dropping the pen you were currently using to write the names of each recipient of the drinks.

"Your suit looks more expensive than my monthly wages. Are you sure you wanna spend your time waiting for a lowly barista, Mr. CEO?"

If only you knew just how much time he was willing to invest in you. How much he'd already invested.

"Not a CEO. And I'd be willing to stand here for hours if that's what it takes."

"Okay, damn. You're serious, huh?", you laughed, "I'm off in three hours. But I'll look a mess by then. If you really want to tell me how I changed your life, here's my number," your hand crossed the threshold of the small divide between the counter and the bar, grabbing onto his own and scribbling your number on the back of his hand.

"I hope you know I'll be making liberal use of this," he warned lightheartedly.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you grinned one last time before handing him a cup holder with all his drinks.

Jungkook had to force himself and be cool as he exited out of the establishment, attempting to conceal the huge smile on his lips at his success.

Things had gone way smoother than he'd ever fantasized. The nerves he was sure would surge as soon as he saw you simply never made an appearance. He'd been able to wow you, to make you laugh. Fuck, your shy giggle at his dumb flirting would likely replay in his brain for the rest of the day.

There was a brand new pep in his step as he made his way back. It had taken herculean self-control to not look back and check if you were looking back at him as he left. He needed to play it cool. You liked guys who were down, horribly bad for you, but that would come later. For now, he needed to preserve an image of coolness.

Jungkook made his way back to his building, multiple cups in hand aided by the cup holder. He'd made sure his hand remained untouched, unwilling to risk losing your number (despite the fact he already had it — and way more than just your number).

It was the cutest thing to him, seeing you scribble your number on his hand as your hand held his firm for the pressure of the pen. The shadow of your touch remained on him, something which he would preserve in his mind until the moment he got to feel your touch again.

Jungkook's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden voice. Though not too sudden, as he was now surrounded by people, not having realized he'd arrived as he was deep in his thoughts.

"You look very happy."

Turning to his side, he found Taehyung standing there, hands on hips before he walked over to Jungkook and took his coffee from the beverage holder he had at hand. He had that same look on his face he always had when he was teasing him. Jungkook felt slightly embarrassed at how obvious his feelings showed through his face.

The smile on his lips simply couldn't be helped.

"Oh, I-"

"You have that dopey smile on your face. I haven't seen that in a while," Tae noted, "Who is she?"

Jungkook did a combination of a choked breath and a scoff, resulting in a very unpleasant sound. Clearing his throat to properly respond, he took a sip from his own coffee, setting down the rest on a table nearby so they could be up for grabs.

"What makes you think it's a girl?", he attempted to evade.

"C'mon, man. Humor me," Tae nudged.

Jungkook sighed, knowing that Tae would probably not let this go. Jungkook was known as a man adverse to the dating scene, constantly pushed and pulled in every direction possible to get him to give dating a chance. What no one had known was that his heart was waiting for the perfect girl, which he'd been lucky to have found a few months back and had locked his mind and heart on.

Since things with you were pretty much settled now, Jungkook supposed that mentioning his upcoming date (the one he'd ensure to schedule with you as soon as humanly possible) wasn't too out of the question. He was too giddy to keep it in.

"Uhm, I might've asked a girl for her number."

And it was like those words sounded an alarm at the office.

Suddenly Jimin was standing next to Taehyung, with Hobi stopping on his tracks to join in on the conversation, all with their ears practically perked up in Jungkook's direction.

"You what?!"

"A girl? Since when? Who?"

"Fucking finally. I ran out of girls to set you up with."

All congratulatory and accusatory messages were delivered all at once, making Jungkook roll his eyes at the collective.

He was known as a hopeless romantic, which was known to make him incredibly picky — or anal, as Taehyung could say — about who he dated. So, yeah, maybe the fact that he'd asked a girl for her number was a big deal. But Jungkook didn't want his friends meddling with it or asking too many questions before things even started.

Especially when Jungkook couldn't really let anyone in on how he'd met you or how he'd ended up in this situation in the first place. Not even his friends could become privy to the liberal freedoms he'd taken to get to know you and ensure he'd get a chance at being with you.

His master plan was a secret he'd take to the grave.

"Just a girl. It's not a for sure thing yet. Don't wanna jinx it," is what he settled with to avoid any specifics.

"C'mon. Nothing else? It's been years, man. Give us something more," Hobi goaded.

Jungkook couldn't help the slight smile that threatened to break through at the thought of you. At the thought of what was to come.

"I'll keep you guys updated after I actually ask her out."

He received some 'boo's for that, but the shrugged them off with a lighthearted eye-roll, taking his coffee and walking over to his office after a few more minutes of teasing from his friends. They'd pointed out the phone number on his hand, awing and cooing at him in jest before he took his leave. His friends left his mind as soon as he stepped into his office, uncharacteristically putting work aside so he could put his mind on more important things — you.

Pulling out his phone, well, his burner, he decided to course through your social medias just out of sheer curiosity. Had you said anything about him? Maybe texted a friend? It'd only been a few minutes, but he knew you were usually due for a break soon and the curiosity was killing him. He needed to know what your first impression of him.

He checked your twitter, your private twitter account, even your instagram, and nothing. Which was to be expected. You weren't really the type to post your every move. But still, Jungkook was hopeful that maybe he'd invaded your mind in the same way you did his.

And then he suddenly got a notification. It was a text message from your friend, instigating him into opening your messaging app.

Upon opening it, he found an ongoing conversation, leading him to scroll up a bit to see how it'd started.

you - omfg i met the cutest guy just now you - he asked for my number im going insane you - he smelled so fucking good fuckjhdgfhskd

bestie - wait bestie - what ??? bestie - WHO bestie - PICS

you - i dont have pics u freak you - we barely just met. he's hot as fuck though !!!! you - im in over my head he's perfect

bestie - so whats the plan !!!! bestie - are yall meeting or what ?? bestie - r u fucking him bestie - i thought u were over dating bc of last time ...

you - dont bring that demon up !!! you - we didnt make plans. i just gave him my number but he kept flirting so im hoping for a call soon you - (or else ill go looking for him hes too fine to let go) you - ill make an exception for him he's just my type

Jungkook was practically kicking his feet like a teenage girl in love at every single message.

It was odd watching the conversation play out in real time, but he couldn't be too bothered about that. Not when he was so enamored with the way you spoke about him.

You wanted him!!! You wanted to fuck him!!! — a thought that made him both blush and his skin heat up. You were interested and willing to give dating a chance just to get to know him.

He was beyond fucked. But in a good way.

The excitement brought goosebumps to his skin and the itch to contact you immediately and confess his addiction to you grew more by the second.

But he had to play it cool.

He exited out of the conversation after that, wanting to give you some privacy to gush over him with your friend (it was really the least he could do).

However, the itch to message you persisted, which is exactly what he did next.

He went through many reiterations of what to send, thinking back to prior conversations you'd had with previous partners and the subsequent conversations you'd had with your friends about said partners. If Jungkook was anything, he was an expert on you. If he had to take on another PhD, his thesis would undoubtedly be about you.

In the end, he decided on being true to himself while also following the self-given advice he'd gathered through the months of knowing you.

Jungkook - let me take you out. Jungkook - this is jungkook btw Jungkook - (the love of ur life in case that wasnt clear)

Okay, sure, he wasn't as suave as the average person would expect. However, he was very well aware of what your type was. You liked to be chased, to have a guy on his knees begging for a chance — but not in a creepy way. Those had been your exact words the multiple times in which you'd vented to your friends both via text and facetime.

To your luck, Jungkook was exactly that. He had already gone way more out of his way than the average person did (or should) just to get one chance to get you to consider him as a suitor. Being down bad, or perhaps even a loser, was not a feat for him.

Your response came after a few minutes, with an excited acceptance to his offer (thank god) and a plan ultimately set up for the upcoming weekend. Jungkook could barely continue his work day after such news, too giddy to concentrate and wanting to huddle under a blanket and kick at his feet like a teenage girl.

The rest of the day was spent with thoughts of you, pushing his work aside while he mentally prepared yet another gameplan for what was to come. He needed to think of a date, arrange it, maybe even plan for what would come after it — because there would be another. He'd ensure it.

It was a few days away, yet Jungkook continued to think about it up until that very day, thankful he no longer had to wait and watch back as you dated dumbass after dumbass. Jungkook had already forgotten about every undeserving idiot he had witnessed come before him, knowing himself to be on a whole entire level to them.

As the days towards the date passed, Jungkook continued casually texting you, making good on his promise to make liberal use of your phone number (despite having already made good use of all your other information without your knowledge). He shared reels with you, tiktoks, messaged you jokes, 'good mornings,' flirtatious back and forths, anything that could get the two of you talking in the meantime. Jungkook wanted to share his genuine personality with you, hopeful that you'd like him as he was and that your personalities were as compatible as he'd predicted.

And he'd been correct. Your conversations never halted abruptly, flowing through the days and never having awkward lulls in between. It felt like talking to an old friend, except that this time around it was who he believed would become his soulmate.

Despite wanting to give you more privacy now that he had actually met you formally, Jungkook still occasionally fell for the temptation of checking your messages through his burner phone. He'd made a deal with himself that he'd stop, that he'd do things right and not mar things between you by reading your private conversations or spying on you as he did before. But sometimes it was hard. Especially when he needed to ensure things went well enough for him to be able to ask you to be official.

And so he checked, and was very pleased by what he found.

Your words about him towards your friends were blush-worthy, to say the least. You'd shower him with compliments, with some being PG while others leaning towards more R rated territory. He'd blush and flush and go crazy at those comments, itching to get you alone and show you even more things to gush about to your friends.

But for now, he prepared for your date. He'd have time to rock your world later, all in due time. His cards needed to be played right, and he was more than prepared to win this game.

Unsurprisingly to Jungkook, the date went amazing.

From the moment he picked you up, to the moment he offered to walk you from his car to your door, everything went better than he'd fantasized night after night.

He'd picked an expensive restaurant, offering to take up the entire bill (as any gentleman should, but he knew you weren't used to such treatment) and even brought you what he knew to be your favorite flowers. He picked you up, of course, earning the reward of seeing you walk out of your apartment with the most life-ruining dress he'd ever seen. A few stammered compliments were given, leading to the price that were your shy giggles in return.

At the actual date, everything ran smoothly. Jungkook's knowledge of you proved useful to wow you, but truly, he didn't need to pretend or lie to you at any moment in order to impress you. He was himself, and that was something you seemed to adore (but not as much as he already adored you). Every joke was met with a giggle, and every train of thought was reciprocated and entertained by you. You'd even played footsie with him at some point, sharing the teasing physical contact with him in return to his occasional flirtation.

When it came time to leave, he drove you back home, parking a little further away under some lame pretense just so he could spend a little extra time with you to walk you home. You caught on to this, but to Jungkook's joy, you entertained his idea, not wanting the night to end just yet either.

Once at your door, Jungkook felt conflicted.

Preferably, this would be the moment in which he finally shared his first kiss with you, a moment he'd imagined too many times to be able to admit. Yet, he found himself hesitating.

As far as he'd known you, you'd disapproved of moving too fast in relationships. It just wasn't you, you'd say. The only occasions in which you allowed for things to move forward within short periods of time were for one-night stands or when you already knew there would be no further dates.

Jungkook, however, wished to not be lumped into neither one of those categories.

So he stood there, smiling at you, holding onto your hand and unwilling to let go as his thumb graced your knuckles in a soft manner. It was silent, but it wasn't awkward. The best way to describe it was enamored — and to Jungkook's delight, it seemed to be a mutual sentiment!

But then you threw him off completely.

Not bothering to warn him, you stepped forward, putting your hands on his jaw and pulling him in as you stood on your tippy toes to reach him.

He had no time to react, eyes widening and mouth opening as you connected your lips to his. It took him a second to respond, with his arms still limp and awkward between you before he stepped into action. If you wanted a kiss, he'd deliver the best one of your life.

Taking control of the situation was easy. The shock of his long-time wish finally coming true only had him in dreamland for a few seconds before he finally snapped and reciprocated. He began to lead you, lips overpowering yours and tongue slipping out of his mouth and into your own.

He couldn't let himself think about the kiss too deeply. It was already torturous, hearing your sighs muffled by his lips and swallowing every tiny sound you made at the aggressive way in which he'd begun to kiss you. He had all the power, and much to his mental dismay, you seemed to really enjoy it.

But he needed to control himself. He couldn't let this move too fast. Couldn't let himself give in to desire and have his long-awaited day with you. Even if his body was itching for him to get on his knees and beg for a chance between them, he had to hold himself back.

However, this did not prevent him from indulging in your touch at least a little.

Pushing you up against your front door, his lips trailed down your neck and into the expanse of your chest that was bared (courtesy of the cleavage you'd decided to bless Jungkook with). His lips were indecisive, going from your sternum and up to your neck, nipping lightly at times and easing the sting with flicks of his tongue. The pretty sounds you let out were more than reward enough for his efforts.

His knee ended up between your legs, itching closer and closer to your middle and digging itself there with a practiced precision that had you keening under his hold.

"Please," you sighed after some time, begging for something your dazed state likely didn't even know.

"Please what, baby?"

Your head turned, catching his lips again, but not in a kiss. It was too messy to be deemed a kiss, consisting of open mouths and too much spit to be considered sanitary.

"Come in? I wanna- Please come in," you pleaded, effectively killing Jungkook.

It took herculean effort for Jungkook to stay put. It was the hardest thing in the world to reject you when you were so desperate, when your voice was a mere breath of desire landing right against his lips before dipping into yet another kiss.

He couldn't help the groan that left him, but he replaced it with a chuckle when you whined at the separation of lips.

"You know I can't do that, baby."

"But I want you to!" you pouted, petulant and way too convincing.

His hand went up to your chin, turning your head towards him. It could've been considered a cute gesture, but his knee remained digging into your cunt (which was pulsing against him, driving him further into insanity) and your bodies were still too pressed up to be considered proper.

Looking up at him, you pouted, eyebrows hunched together in a way that let him know you were left wanting more. He thumbed at your chin in a soft manner, cooing at the adorable sight before him.

But you just had to pay him back for his teasing — though it was fair, considering his knee continued to dig into your cunt, earning tiny gasps from you and an eye-roll of pleasure.

You tilted your chin back, landing his thumb on your bottom lip and subsequently pulling it into your mouth (not that Jungkook put too much of a fight). Still staring into his eyes, you suckled at his thumb, wide, empty eyes making him lose himself.

He stood there, dumb and gone as he watched your cheeks sink in as you licked and sucked at his thumb, moaning when he pressed at your tongue. It was filthy and depraved and he loved it.

"Are you sure you won't come in?" you tried one last time, seduction in your voice.

It took everything in him. Every last ounce of self-control and survival skills in him to be able to deny you after you'd put on that little show for him.

But he'd worked too hard to fuck you within one day of having you. He needed to take his time and romance you as you'd always wanted. Sometimes he just knew you better than you knew yourself.

"I'm sorry, angel. I need to kiss you goodnight, okay?", he pouted back at you, chuckling when you mirrored his pout.

But then you smiled at him. Warm, accepting and especially enamored.

He had done good.

"I'll be waiting for a goodnight text from you," you said after he'd pecked your lips a few times, finally giving you enough space away from the door.

"I'll even text you good morning first thing tomorrow, beautiful," he smiled at you.

When you left (after even more chaste pecks), a smile overtook him. The half-forming boner was the last of his worries when he felt so happy at the outcome of tonight's events. He might've even skipped on his way to his car.

~

What happened next was slightly predictable to Jungkook.

He had sworn to himself he wouldn't. Had sword he'd give you privacy from now on. That he'd let things play out naturally now that he had you to himself, ready to fall in love with him.

Yet curiosity got the best of him once again.

He'd rushed his way home, even driving through a few red lights on his way. It was a life-or-death matter to him (or at least to his boner).

As soon as he was home, he ran to his macbook, opening up the tab that would display the only sight that would leave him satisfied when he was so pent up and needy for you.

And when he caught sight of what he'd been looking for, a groan couldn't help itself but to escape his lips.

There you were, busy with your hand between your legs as you sighed out Jungkook's name in between flicks of your clit. The sight was sinful, leaving Jungkook a lifeless version of himself as he groaned and cried out at the view.

Joining you in your touches was a given. He wished he could be there right now, working you to his desires, but he was still content with the current state of affairs. His hands undid his pants faster than they'd ever before, freeing himself from any clothing concealing him before losing himself in you.

He'd seen you touch yourself countless times, already well aware of what you'd do, how you'd play with yourself. But this time was different. This time it was rushed, desperate. It was a desperation he easily mirrored, completely empathetic to the feeling.

It didn't take him much to make himself cum, having already been on the brink whilst driving himself home. The effect some mere kissing and fondling had had on him was somewhat embarrassing, but he couldn't blame himself. Not when you'd been the cause.

Watching you cum, back arching and breath hitching at the overwhelming feeling. Even as he watched you, he felt pained. It was a depraved feeling he'd never experienced before, with the incessant need to be the one experiencing these feelings with you, cursing at himself for depriving himself from the experience.

Once the sensations seized, Jungkook closed his computer, setting it aside so he could ruminate on that day's occurrences.

Before going to sleep, he made sure to give you that 'goodnight' text he'd promised, smiling at himself when you replied, even adding a few heart emojis in tandem.

The development of your newfound relationship continued just as Jungkook had hoped.

More dates went by, with frequent stops at your cafe any time he had a short break during work (meaning, often). It was easy to tell that you were as enamored with Jungkook as he was with you. The many flirty texts and delivered flowers paid off, and it all felt very natural to him. Treating you the way you deserved, the way he'd been itching to treat you, it was like a gift to Jungkook.

It'd only been a month, yet it felt like an eternity to him.

He'd stopped keeping tabs on you by then.

Well, for the most part.

The curiosity after every date remained in him. Every time he held back and dropped you off without anything further than some kisses, he itched to know how you felt afterwards, instantly checking on his camera and even looking for any feedback you may have given your friends.

It was safe to say that you wanted him just as much as he did you.

Which made it all the more difficult to hold back from letting you pull him into your apartment and finally having his way with you.

But after this month of pure bliss, Jungkook finally decided.

He'd finally let himself have you in the way he'd been thirsting after.

Tonight, he'd planned yet another date. After that first one, it was virtually impossible for the two of you to stay away from each other. Not only did Jungkook want to spend every available second with you, but you were very responsive to that fact, always accepting and even suggesting dates.

But tonight was different. When you'd suggested some ice cream and a walk in the park, Jungkook took a risk and asked you if you'd rather come over, maybe watch a movie and eat some pre-bought ice cream (of your choosing, of course). It was a thinly-veiled excuse to get you in his apartment (and completely alone) for the first time.

And unsurprisingly to Jungkook, you accepted. There was a suggestive smile in your lips when you did so, leading Jungkook to believe that you were aware of his desires and even shared some of your own.

He couldn't help the anxious feelings overtaking him as he waited for you to arrive. He knew what was coming, knew that tonight would be the culmination of all he'd ever wanted since laying eyes on you. His skin burned at the thought of what was to come and his body shook in anticipation, goosebumps forming as the minutes passed.

When you knocked on his door, he couldn't help but run to it like a dog awaiting its owner's return. He didn't want to appear too giddy, like some freak only wanting to jump into your pants, but that fact was half reality. He was depraved for you. He was desperate, only having held back for so long because he had wanted to do things right, to win your heart before getting access to your body.

And finally he'd have both.

"Hey," you smiled up at him at his doorstep, front teeth digging into the plush of your bottom lip. You leant against his door frame, casual yet slightly nervous.

Looking down at you, he noted your cutesy pajamas. A matching set of tiny shorts and a tank top currently covered by an oversized hoodie, unzipped and letting him in on your outfit.

"Ready for our sleepover?", you giggled.

It was impossible not to be enamored by you.

When he'd suggested a movie and some ice cream at his place, you'd adorably suggested a sleepover, insisting on some movie marathon of his choice and all the snacks you could wish for. You'd said that it was an excuse to 'be domestic and shit,' as you'd put it. You also adamantly claimed you needed to check whether or not he snored in order to continue the relationship (all whilst blushing at the 'r' word, not having labeled things yet and unknowing that Jungkook would do so tonight).

He smiled back at you, doing his best to hold back from aggressively attacking you with the affection overflowing him. His mind battled between finding you adorable and wanting to lock you down and keep you in his bed for weeks to come.

"Come in, pretty. I got all your favorite snacks," he welcomed you in with a bear hug, humming loudly as he nuzzled into your neck.

"Hmm, you give the best hugs, I hate you," you grumbled when he let go.

Then you walked in as if you owned the place, practically skipping over to the couch nearby and eyeing all the snacks Jungkook had grown to recognize as your favorites — though he had known this from the months of watching you.

"Come on! Sit. I demand my sleepover," you whined, getting up from the couch and pulling him to sit right next to you.

He chuckled, finding you adorable yet again.

~

Only one movie was watched before things began leaving the PG-13 realm Jungkook had invertedly found himself in.

After a bit, you'd cuddled into him, with his arm enveloping you and accepting you into his chest as you continued to watch the movie. But the movie was the last thing in his mind. What he wanted was to see in person that body which he'd so often watched through a screen without your knowledge.

He had theories of what you'd feel like under his touch, of how you'd react to his. But ultimately, he knew that imagination would never compare to reality.

By now, neither of you were paying attention to the movie. Jungkook had been unfocused since the moment you walked in. However, you'd kept up the pretense of an innocent sleepover for a little longer than he did. While he'd been ready to jump you since the date began, you'd played dumb and cuddled up to him as you watched the movie, though not once rejecting his attempts to get closer and closer.

And now, after the first movie of the night was finally over, his hands became braver. Sensing your equal desire for him, he let his hands find your bare thighs, knuckles running up and down their expanse as he subtly looked to his side, watching you squirm at the touch.

You pushed yourself closer, legs pressing together a bit when his hand began to dip into the middle of your legs. With a giggle, you turned your body to face this, a failed attempt at concealing a smile showing on your face.

"Slick," you chuckled. You might've meant it to mock him, but you still began giving in, putting your own hands on him.

Naturally, he took advantage of this, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you to straddle his lap. Your hands found their place on his shoulders, sliding from his shoulders to his jaw while his did the same on your waist and hips.

Kissing you came just as naturally, pulling you in and trapping your bottom lip between his own two, making the kiss deeper than you'd ever kissed each other before. You instantly hummed into his mouth, hands reaching to his head and pulling him closer. His own remained on your hips, having fun squeezing at the plush skin there, bare due to your shorts having ridden up while straddling him.

With a self-prescribed oral fixation, Jungkook would've had fun kissing you for hours on end. He had already fostered a tendency to bite at his own lip ring, but the satisfaction he got from it only intensified when you did it — which was exactly what you were doing at that moment.

As you nibbled and sucked at his bottom lip, occasionally pulling at the silver ring with your teeth, Jungkook's hands began feeling you up, slowly losing their hesitation in grabbing at any curve he could reach. Your hands eventually came to do the same, finding his arms and sighing into his lips when you felt the stiff muscle under your hands.

When Jungkook got tired of feeling you up through your clothes, his hands reached the hem of your top, slowly reaching underneath it to ensure he gave you time to pull him away if you didn't want him to do so (which he was very certain was not the case, at least going off your own hands doing the same to him). Pulling off your top, he disconnected your lips, moving onto your neck and letting his thumbs feel at your bare nipples, chuckling at the low whine you let out at the action.

"You're so pretty, baby," he murmured.

His eyes were closed and his face nuzzled into your neck, kisses being left in his wake. But despite having not seen the expanse of your torso yet, he knew you were the prettiest thing he would've ever laid his eyes on. He'd seen you countless times. Maybe through a screen and maybe without your knowledge, but he'd seen you enough to have every inch memorized. Now was time to memorize it all to the touch.

"Yeah?", you sighed, numb, thoughtless, just like he wanted you.

"Mhm," he hummed in affirmation, "Already so needy, huh?"

His lips went lower, hand flat on the middle of your back to hold your body up and finding his way to your breasts, covering in licks and kisses as you sighed along to every single one. He was in cloud 9, finally able to touch you as he'd always wanted. In every way he saw useless men attempt to.

You became antsy quickly after that. He was sure you could feel his hardness under you, especially when you'd readjust yourself on his lap, huffing when his hold on you gave you no freedom to move and find some friction against him. It was unspoken, but he was in charge here. Your pleasure was entirely his responsibility, and he'd choose exactly how he'd give it to you.

After all, he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"Take me to your room," you mumbled in between heavy breaths, already exhausted with lust.

Without a second to hesitate, Jungkook's hands went under your thighs, standing up as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. The trip was a short one, ending with you sitting at the edge of his bed while he stood before you, hand on your chin to ensure you'd look up at him.

And the sight made him crazy.

There was not a single thought behind those eyes, only unadulterated lust staring up at him.

He mindlessly thumbed his way up to your lower lip, clawing at it softly in a silent command for your mouth to open and allow him in. And to no one's surprise, you took him in, suckling lightly at the digit as you continued looking up at him, faux innocent look in your eyes.

A silent groan left him at the act, knowing that this would be what you looked like if you were to be good for him and get some other part for him in your mouth. But even the mere finger sucking had him fighting for his life. He pressed his thumb into your tongue, pushing back a little and getting a slight gag out of you before you continued in your adamant sucking.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Then he used that same hand to pull your face towards his own, leaning down a bit to meet you in the middle.

While the kiss in the living room had already been nasty enough for his liking, this one was nothing if not depraved. Your tongues met in the middle, before any lip action could actually happen. It involved a lot of teeth knocking and needy sounds released against each other, but Jungkook thrived off this neediness. Knowing you wanted him so badly that you lost all inhibitions, all sense of self — it made him dizzy with desire.

Mid kiss, he began lowering himself on the floor, pulling your neck down with him so you'd angle down, keeping your lips connected despite the newfound discrepancy in height. When the kiss finally had to be broken, he immediately latched onto the bare skin of your legs, hands itching to pull off your shorts and panties down (thankfully, you were still lucid enough to lift your hips and aid him in this). And then he was finally met with the sight he'd been craving to bury himself in for months.

It was plush, slightly swollen with desire and dripping with arousal, staring back at him as he attempted to hold back.

He dove in without a single second-thought, hands opening your legs far enough to find himself his rightful spot between them.

This. This was all he'd think about as he'd watch you date dumbass after dumbass, left displeased by every single one no matter how hard you tried to find at least a single competent one.

He gave you everything he had in him, licking at the expanse of your cunt before stopping at your clit and giving it special attention. His hands gripped at your thighs, angling you so you'd lay back on the bed as he had some alone time with your pussy. Your hands pulled at his hair, maybe too harshly, but he couldn't feel anything but bliss at that moment.

Your taste, your smell, your touch, it was all taking over his mind. This had been all he thought about night after night, watching your failed dates and hoping he'd be the next one on the list. He knew exactly how to please you, both from innate knowledge and from how much he'd studied you these past months.

"F-fuck, you nose ..." you cried out when it accidentally rubbed at your clit, intensifying its movements after your reaction.

"Taste so good, baby," he mumbled.

It was impossible to ignore his own arousal now, allowing himself to rub against the side of the mattress while he continued to lick and suck at you. His mind was fuzzy, completely overtaken by the pleasure your touch, your taste, your smell, your sounds, you were giving him.

When you came, he still couldn't stop himself. He continued lapping at you, drunk in the taste and far too blissed out to process that the current pulling of his hair meant you were too sensitive to receive more.

When your whines got louder, he finally let you go, sitting back on the floor as he caught his breath.

Worth it.

"You're insane," you gasped between heavy breaths.

But he was too busy licking at any leftover essence dripping on his chin, smirking when you gaped at him.

"You did this to me," he rebutted, "Maybe don't seduce me next time," and then he climbed back on the bed, taking his rightful place above you as he kissed you once more, tongue in first to ensure you got a taste of yourself.

Immediately, your legs wrapped around him, forcing him down onto your bare center and encouraging to bump his hips against yours. His hands intervened, working at his sweats as fast as he could so he could finally get that skin-to-skin contact he'd been craving. With your feet, you haphazardly tried to aid him in pushing them off, with them ending up at his ankles and ultimately pushed off by his own feet. Separation seemed to be offensive to him, refusing to disconnect his lips from some part of your body at any time.

"'m gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?", he muttered, landing one last kiss on your lips.

"Like this? Or do you wanna-"

"Mm, like this. Wanna see you," he said as if it was the most obvious thing ever (which, fairly, to him it was).

He didn't bother with a condom, knowing you were on birth control after one of the many flirty late-night conversations you'd had leading up to this night (though he already had this knowledge through his secretive means).

Entering you could not be measured nor compared to any other experience. He'd known the event would be ruinous, but his mind could not have ever come close to reality.

Your eyes practically rolled back when he bottomed out, giving him a sight that he could never forget. Part of him wanted to reach down to his sweats and pull out his phone from his pocket, maybe take a picture, set it as his lockscreen and utilize it any time you weren't around.

But the thought left him when you whined at him to move, claiming you needed him.

Your nails dragged down his back as he began hammering in, making him wince at the painful pleasure. Burying his head in your neck, he kissed at the skin there, groaning when you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling yourself as close as possible whilst attempting to move against him.

"Feel so fucking good," he grunted, "Made for me, huh? You were just waiting for me to fuck you, huh, baby? Needed someone who knew how to make you feel good."

He was telling on himself a bit, but he didn't care. He needed to assert his place over every man that'd ever touched you before. Needed to confirm it for both you and him.

"Yes!," you cried out, "So good, fuck."

Your words were mostly nonsensical babbles after that, with the occasional curse or sigh of his name mixed in.

Jungkook was in paradise. This was all he'd wanted ever since his eyes landed on you. The feeling of your pulse surrounding his cock made his eyes roll back, making him struggle to keep up with the euphoric sensations you were giving him. He now understood why every man that landed on your bed was unable to please you. You simply rendered them boneless vessels of bliss.

"God, never letting you go after this. You know that, right? All mine," he rambled, truth spilling from his lips.

But you liked it. Your nails dug into his back, head nodding feverishly in agreement at his words.

"Mhm. Yours, fuck. Please don't stop ..."

He groaned, further burying his head in your neck and pressing himself up as close as humanly possible. Any distance between you felt like a burn to him.

His orgasm approached, but he knew the telltale signs of your own by memory. You were right there with him.

"Feels so fucking good, gorgeous. She's gripping me so hard, fuck. She's gonna cum for me, hmm? Wanna see you cum, pretty," he panted out.

You wailed when his thumb made its way between you, nudging at you lightly and teasingly enough to have you seeing stars. The movements of his hips never seized, barely able to move with how tight you were but still working you to completion.

When you came, you dragged him down with you, sighing out words that made him lose his mind.

"Cum inside ... Please. Wanna feel it," and just like that, Jungkook lost himself in you, filling you to the brim with no shame.

His hips kept slapping against the back of your thighs, chaffing skin forming due to the friction. But the feeling took the backseat in the midst of bliss.

Jungkook allowed himself to lay his body next to yours afterwards, giving you the role of little spoon as he pulled you as close as possible, with your head lying happily on his bicep.

Multiple pecks landed on your lips, chuckling when you groaned at him pulling out.

"You're crazy," you giggled, kissing his nose and simultaneously melting his heart in the process.

He shrugged, playing it off, "Had to make my girl feel good."

"Oh? Your girl?", you teased.

He engulfed you in his arms, flipping you so you'd lay under him, both arms caging you beneath him, "You're kind of mine now, in case that wasn't clear."

It was voiced as a joke, but he meant it.

"No complaints here," you giggled, kissing him as confirmation.

Pleased, he sat the two of you up, patting your hip in a comforting manner.

"C'mon, baby, go pee. I'll be waiting here with a clean change of sheets, okay?"

And with that, you practically skipped away, giving him a few kisses in that post-coital bliss before losing him to the other side of the bathroom connected to his bedroom.

Before bothering to throw off the sheets, Jungkook looked over his shoulder, making sure you were out of sight. He reached under his mattress, collecting the old phone and tablet through which he'd grown accustomed to surveilling you with, chuckling to himself as he turned them off, giving them a silent goodbye before throwing them into the trash.

He wouldn't be needing them anymore.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my jk monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, stalker!jungkook, afab reader, jk watches reader masturbate without her knowledge, masturbation (both f and m receiving), oral (f receiving), cumming in pants, etc.

wc: 297 (teaser); 1869 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

Jungkook had planned to stick to his word.

When he swore to himself that he'd give you privacy, trust you and let you exist without his constant supervision, he had truly meant it. However, as it usually happened, he was able to create nonsensical logistics in order to go back on his word.

It's not like he watched over you as he did before meeting you, though! He truly did give you your privacy — well, to some extent.

Any time you left his apartment, landing a sweet kiss on his cheek and informing him you'd be out with some friends, he restrained (despite the tiny dress you'd be wearing, letting him know you'd be garnering far too much attention from onlookers), wanting you to have fun with your friends without his watchful eyes (even if you wouldn't realize he had the ability to track you anyway). But he held back, trusting you to go and head back to your own bed afterwards, sending him a text goodnight with a cute kissy emoji attached.

When you'd be too preoccupied with your phone, rather than checking your texts through his burner phone, he'd nuzzle into your shoulder, happy at your indifference of him eyeing your screen (where he'd usually just find you playing some silly phone game or texting your friends).

However, it was under the dumbest circumstances possible that Jungkook just couldn't help himself in invading your privacy.

And this was any time you spent the night alone in your apartment rather than in his.

Any time you slept away from each other, he just needed to take a peak, to access that hidden camera he just refused to get rid of and get a look at the little show you'd put for him (all without your knowledge).

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[princesssmars]

so...we can all agree vi is an ass girl, right?

modern!au. 18+ content ahead. post contains lesbian sex and dry humping. inspired by this video from love and deepspace. i didnt know they got down like that. wc : 3.081.

she didn't show it often before, but lately violet could quickly become so achingly desperate for you.

she didn't show it often, but violet could become so achingly desperate.

at the start of your relationship, she tried to play off her need for you in a casual way, brushing it off as just being a very attentive girlfriend. you never had a problem with, always open and accepting of whatever little bits of attention she would give to you.

but then one day she slips, and she can feel your dynamic shift as soon as it happens.

she was away visiting her family for the holidays, body snugly tucked under the covers in her childhood bed as she held her phone above her face. the house was quiet, the air was cold, and she was having an internal battle with the reasonable part of her that told her to call it a night and drift off to sleep already...

and then there was the other side. the one that suddenly brings to her attention the steady heat that’s been building beneath her stomach after you sent the prettiest photo of you all dolled up in your parent’s guest bathroom. the one that made her bite her lip as she observed every inch of you through the screen before instantly liking the photo and sending back a flirty message. the one that now gravitated her fingers to calling your phone in the middle of the night and hoping and praying you’d pick up, nearly breathing a sigh of relief when you did.

"vi? are you alright?"

loaded question, she thinks to herself. in perfect health? of course. of sound mind? debatable, but for the most part yes. alright? no, definitely not at the moment.

"yeah, yeah, i’m alright princess. just wanted to talk to you."

"aww, you're such a sweetie. how'd i get so lucky, huh?"

and yes, she does appreciate and silently adore the sweet sentiment. but the sound of you cooing at her with just the tiniest hint of a rasp in your voice from tiredness only cements her fate, having to use all of the rational energy she has left to stop whimpering.

"tell me how your trips been. wanna hear your voice for a little longer."

"no problem. well im fine, everyone here is good. besides my aunt nat, she's still moody because no one allowed her in the kitchen again-"

you go on about your family and their shenanigans, and she cant help but quietly laugh along when you giggle about some of the stories and memories you've made. but the 'conversation' takes a turn when you start to talk about her.

"you know i miss you, right?"

she feels a subtle pang in her chest, half longing and half desire. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. rolled over in bed this morning and kept trying to find you till i realized where i was. it's weird not waking up with you."

she hums, hoping you cant hear her stuttered breaths through the receiver. she doesn't know why hearing about you subconsciously looking for her embrace is what does it for her, but she can only give a short response as one of her hands trails down into boxers.

"wish i could've been there with you, baby."

"mmm, me too. missed your warmth, swear you're like my own personal heater. wish you could be here with me now."

her breathing stops and her eyebrows raise. "oh yeah?"

"yeah. missed your hands, too."

fuck, fuck fuck fuck. she's taken off guard, mind racing at your words and tone and before she knows it she has two fingers stuffed inside of herself while she quietly whimpers for you to keep talking to her.

"fuck, just a little more baby, please, 'm so close-"

"aww, you're such a good girl for me, aren't you violet?"

she swears she bites her lip so hard it nearly bleeds when she cums, walls clenching around her fingers and eyes rolling back into her head as she reaches her peak while you talk her through it.

the next week when she picks you up from the airport she can see it, a glimmer in your eye and quick in your smile that wasn't there before. she tries to ignore it when she pulls you in for a long-awaited embrace but then she just gets so enveloped in your warmth, your smell, the feeling of your body pressed hers. she's only yanked out of her lovestruck stupor when you whisper a sly little comment in her ear about how long and tight she's been holding you.

"call me crazy but if i didnt know any better i'd say you're feeling a little desperate for me."

so the cats out of the bag. she's super attached to you, so what? it's not like you ever complained about it, instead constantly using her neediness to your advantage to get what you want from her. you'll likely never have to beg and convince her to get up from bed to change the thermostat again, only needing to graze your hand across her chest and press a lingering kiss to the space beneath her chin before she's leaping out of bed and speedwalking down the hall.

and don't even get her started on her libido. the both of you had an amazing sex life already, able to almost instinctually tell what brought the other the most mindblowing pleasure possible. but ever since that night, it's like her desire for you only increased tenfold, barely able to go a day without getting her hands on you or vice versa.

it only reached a head when you decided to truly test her limits.

she had taken up a later shift to help out loris who had a date, which meant by the time she returned home she was too tuckered out to have her way with you. but during times like these, she could always count on the early morning sun waking her up just in the rich window of time for morning sex. but when the light rays peek through her bedroom window and she uses her arm to pull you closer she finds you absent, your side of the bed cold.

after a brief search through the house, she opened her text messages just to find your sent a sweet text only an hour before she’d woken up to tell her your friends had invited you on a last minute girls day around the city the night before, and you didn’t want to wake her from her sleep since she seemed exhausted when she got home.

vi groans and falls back into the pillows, lousily texting you back a short message to tell you she loves you and hopes you have fun with your friends. she’ll be alright, she can go a few more hours without you near.

but only an hour later after she’s showered and eaten a quick breakfast she feels the ache start to build in her chest, eyes darting up to the clock on the wall and groaning when realizes just how long this day is going to feel.

everything she tries to do to keep her mind off of you fails miserably. doing chores? she's thinking back on the time when the both of you first split up household duties when you moved in together, feeling giddy at sharing something so menial with the girl she was enamored with. making herself a protein shake for the gym? now she's stuck in a daydream about all the times you've been in this kitchen together, sharing sweet baked goods and sweeter kisses as you settle into domestic bliss.

she has got to get out of the house.

jayce understood her problem as soon as she called inviting her down to the gym for a few hours to work off any ‘pent-up energy’ she’s currently... unable to get out in her preferred method.

it works for a while, the familiar smell of sweat and the slight ache in her muscles grounding her back into reality as she makes casual gym talk with jayce. she's just starting to feel like the absence of you is off of her mind when she hears your text notification on her phone, accidentally leaving her place as jayces spotter to open up her phone.

as soon as her brain registers that you’ve sent her pictures she makes up some lame excuse to get to the bathroom, tuning out her friend's groan of disapproval as she speed walks to the restrooms and locks herself in one of the stalls.

the first few messages are sweet, little selfies of you and your friends as you enjoy your day together as you get some sweet treats together at one of the malls concession stands. a lovesick smile involuntarily grows on her face, always happy to see you smiling and enjoying yourself with the people who care about you. but her eyes start to squint when you start to send pictures of you trying on various outfits from some of the outlet stores, posing demurely in front of the trying room mirrors.

but then her eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when suddenly shes getting photos of you in her vagina's favorite enemy - lingerie.

even before vi started acting so eager about your body, it wasn't hard for you to catch on to the fact that the woman was so clearly an ass girl. even on five hands, you wouldn't be able to count the number of times you’d caught her staring or sneaking small glances at your behind, not to mention how she thought she was being discreet about her affection for it with the numerous times she’d slap it when walking by you. she tried to laugh it off when you brought it up in conversation, assuring you that she loved each and every part of you and could never pick a favorite.

but now you were determined to really see how much she wanted you, using every dirty trick in the book you could think of. she feels her face get hot as she looks down at her phone, the image of you in lacy lingerie, back facing the mirror as the magenta fabric (nearly the same shade as her hair, jesus christ,) stretches across the swell of your ass and crisis crosses across your back.

her brain short circuits. before she can think about it she’s saving the pictures to her phone and calling you at the speed of light.

“hey, violet. how’s your day?”

“you are so… evil. amazing and beautiful and evil.”

your giggle rings through the receiver, melodic and teasing. “what's the problem? you don't like the set?”

“don’t even joke. when are you getting home?”

“mmm not till late, the girls wanted to go to a club tonight.”

“oh you’ve got to be kidding me-”

“do you want me to send you the address?”

vi hasn't been to a nightclub in months, at first harshly avoiding the hard party scene in favor of her sobriety before feeling no need to indulge in the party scene once her life became more stable, especially after she met you. but she never stopped you from going out and having fun with your friends, tagging along once in a blue moon to sip on a mocktail while she chatted up the bartender and stared at your ass while you danced.

tonight was an extremely necessary blue moon.

the air is hot, and the feel of her drink burns her throat as vi waits at the bar, blue eyes wide and aware as she stares at the club’s crowded entrance like it owes her money. the bartender asks if she’s alright, scared she’s waiting for someone to arrive to jump them before she assures them she’s fine. they slowly nod and get back to making drinks, nearly dropping a glass out of fright when she slams her glass on the bar and quickly makes her way over to you.

if she wasn't so laser-focused on finally getting her hands on you she might've been a little cocky at the fact that you look like you were about to salivate at the sight of her, knowing she made the right decision to wear the tight pants she knew you loved on her. in only a second she’s got her hands settled on your waist, not caring that your friends are laughing at her clear excitement over seeing you in your club outfit, a tiny dress so she can see the wide expanse of your legs, your arms, your shoulder - fuck, the straps of the pink bra aren’t even hidden by the strapless dress-

“wanna dance with me?” your voice is nothing short of flirtatious, and you already know your answer by the way you start to walk past her to the dance floor, already predicting how she follows you like she’s on a leash.

as the both of you grind and dance in the middle of the club every thought racing through vi’s head is centered on you, physically and mentally unable to focus on anything else when she finally has you so close again after what felt like years. she feels a familiar sense of euphoria when her palms glide up and down your waist, smirking to herself when she feels you shudder when her hands reach up to cup and discreetly squeeze your breasts. she’s feeling happy about finally starting to turn the tables back on you before you arch your back into her, your ass pressing into her as your hand reaches up to her head, nails dusting along her cheek before reaching into her hair and pulling.

it’s only to be expected that that’s her breaking point, dragging you through the dancing bodies and into the back of the building until she can find anywhere to get you alone, thanking any god that exists above that she finds an open storage closet and drags you inside, pressing you face first towards the door. a little voice in her head reminds her not to be too rough with you, but it’s quickly silenced when she sees just how much you crave it, how your back is yet again arching and your hands are clenching into fists from their places on the wooden door.

it's nice, to remember that you want her as much as she wants you.

in only a few seconds she’s given into it, pressing you further into the door by pressing her body against yours and grinding her crotch into the fat of your ass, eyes lidded and head dropping to rest on your shoulder from the rush of pleasure she feels below.

“vi, oh my god-” your voice is light and airy, every word almost choked out as you struggle to prevent yourself from moaning out and alerting every person in the bar about what the two of you were up to.

“i know, fuck, I know, baby. i just-” she cuts herself off with a groan when she lets her hand travel down your front and under your dress to your panties, face running hot when she feels just how wet you’ve gotten. she’s all but rushing to ruche up your dress, mind going fuzzy yet again at seeing the pink fabric covering your ass and how it feels under her when she begins humping you yet again.

“nngh, knew it. knew you were an ass girl.” you giggle.

“god, please stop talking-”

whatever snarky little comment you were going to make dies in your throat when her arm comes up and around your neck to hold your jaw, turning your head around and smashing her lips onto yours. you whimper and moan into her mouth, violet greedily eating the noises of your pleasure as she takes you up against the door.

you pull back for a few seconds to catch your breath, both of your eyes drifting to the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips together.

she can feel it, then. an almost electric charge that runs form her body into yours. you lean into her touch, arch into her further like you’re trying ot merge your bodies into one. when her other hand tightens around the pushed-up fabric of your dress and she gets that absolutely adorable scrunch between her eyebrows you know what she’s asking, and you gently nod your head.

and so she presses her lips back to yours, her crotch further into your ass, and rides you in the cramped nightclub storage closet. she's grateful that you seem to be enjoying it just as much as she is, her mind completely focused on getting closer and closer to her peak. she can feel it building quickly, a growing heat below her stomach reach to burst at any moment. all it takes is you, sucking on her tongue before mumbling muffled words into her mouth begging for her to finish against you. she cums with a stifled moan into your mouth, only amplified when she feels you shudder and go loose in the legs beneath her.

you’re both panting, sweaty, and tired as you stare at each other. it’s a comfortable silence as you help each other adjust - vi fixing your dress and you attempting to put her hair back in her signature style.

“so,” your voice lilts up as vi’s busy fixing her jacket, debating if she wants to take it off to cool down or not, knwoing she’ll probably just wrap it around your arms outside anyway. “you gonna admit it yet?”

she rolls her eyes, looking at you with an exasperated but fond look in her eyes that makes your stomach flip. “you just love being proven right, don’t you?”

“absolutely.”

“fine, you were right. are you happy?”

“very. now, let’s go home annnd maybe,” your fingers hook into the loops of her pants and tug her closer,”you can show me a little more just how much you need me, yeah?”

maybe, vi would show her neediness for you more often. just a little.

[25centsoda]

I give myself about an hour, maybe two if I don't catch it in time, and then I go "Okay. This task is not working right now. Time to put it down and do something else." Other variations are "I don't have the brain for this task right now." (maybe it's a complex thing but I'm not doing complex thought at the moment), or "This task is not available to me right now." (video game-like thinking).

And then I have to go do something else. I know that I won't always "have the brain" for tasks every day, so whenever possible I schedule myself to have extra time to complete things to accommodate/compensate for this; thus, often I can safely set the task down until tomorrow, or overmorrow, at which point it will be easier. If I'm super busy that week or weekend and a task isn't working, I'll look ahead in the week to see if I can accomplish a future task and thus make time for this one.

Example: I've been sitting at my computer with a job application staring at me, scrolling tumblr or my phone for two hours. I look at the clock and realize how much time has passed - not enjoyable time, not productive time, just time. I go "Okay. This task is not working right now. Time to put it away and go do something else." I write out any thoughts I'd had for the cover letter, or tasks I need to accomplish next time I open up the gdoc (contact references, write cover letter, get somebody to proofread it, find contact info for last job, etc), then I close all the tabs. Maybe I'm really busy this weekend, and I had planned to get this job application done with the middle of my day Saturday so I can do dinner with family in the evening, and Sunday I'll clean my apartment, cook, and plan out my week. I really need to get this job application done by Monday, but I can't just add it to my tasks on Sunday. So since the job application "isn't working," instead I get out my cleaning supplies and a playlist and clean with my Saturday midday. This gets me unfrozen, gets me accomplishing something, and frees up time to do the task later. On Sunday I wake up with a much clearer head, some thoughts on what to write in my cover letter, and more energy to contact people.

Alternatively, if I can't get myself to do a different Task, I say "Okay. This isn't working either. Time for a break." A break could be a nap (or a lie-down; don't have to fall asleep to get restful benefits, just quiet time laying in the dark is helpful too), watching TV, engaging in a hobby like painting, etc. Then you can either go back to the original task or just give up on it for the day and do something else, whichever you have the capability for at the moment.

Important: Whatever you do, don't beat yourself up for it. Sometimes you get "stuck" or freeze, and sometimes you can get yourself out of that, and sometimes you can't. It's all okay. Tomorrow is another day. The next hour is another hour. There is always another chance. Step back, reset, and try again. You're doing amazing.

this randomly blew up on twitter so i figured i’d post it here bc lord knows everyone on this app is neurodivergent

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ CARMEN kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids ⭢ girl, so confusing ⭢ consume (bonus) ⭢ take your mask off

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, more sakura and yn focus on this chapter, angst, flashbacks, guilt, a lot of confusion, over working, mentions of fainting, mentions of not eating, arguments, guilt, alcohol

it had been exactly a week since the girls stayed at the moons' humble home, and things had taken a strange turn, really strange.

yn returned to the dorms a couple of days later, though this time, she didn’t have much of a choice. their comeback preparations were in full swing, and her absence wasn’t an option.

but ever since their visit to yn’s family home, something felt… off. it wasn’t anything anyone could point out directly, but the shift in the air was undeniable. with everyone back together, practicing and prepping for the comeback, the strange energy became even more apparent.

yet, no one mentioned it. it was as though everyone had silently agreed to ignore the unsettling vibe that lingered between them, as if pretending it didn’t exist might make it go away.

no one noticed.

except sakura.

the first thing sakura noticed was how frazzled chaewon seemed after leaving the moon house. she had gone back to grab her phone and returned looking visibly shaken. when sakura asked what was wrong, chaewon brushed it off with a shake of her head.

the next thing she noticed was yunjin. normally the one to eagerly join in on chaewon’s rants about yn, yunjin had suddenly become... quieter. she didn’t even want to hear it anymore, shutting down conversations with comments like, "let’s just focus on this," or, "it’s really not that serious." it was strange, yunjin had always been vocal when it came to their shared thoughts about yn.

well, all of them except for kazuha, sakura thought.

but now, it seemed like yunjin was distancing herself from anything related to yn, actively changing the subject whenever her name came up. sakura couldn’t fathom what could have caused the sudden shift. what happened at the moon house that had made yunjin so... different?

sakura didn’t know where she found the courage, but she finally asked yunjin what was going on with her. the younger girl’s response was short and cryptic, “we’re a group, we should act like it.”

whatever that means.

you see, sakura had worked incredibly hard to get to where she was now, and she continued to push herself every single day. that was her problem with yn.

yn was the embodiment of having it easy. the brand deals, the fans, the love, it all seemed to fall into her lap without much effort. sometimes, it looked like she didn’t even have to try. she just had it, effortlessly shining in a way that made it hard to look away.

sakura liked to call her teruhashi. whenever yn asked what she meant by that, sakura would just laugh it off, shaking her head like it was some inside joke yn wouldn’t understand.

so yeah, sakura felt like she had every right to feel the way she did about yn. everyone in the group had put in years of hard work to get here, sacrificing everything to make it. and then came her—this rich girl whose dad conveniently got shares in the company, who was plopped into the group last minute before debut, only to become the most popular member overnight.

it wasn’t fair.

the room was filled with heavy breaths, the squeak of sneakers against the floor, and the steady rhythm of the music.

"one, two, three, four, all the girls are—"

"sakura, straighten your arms. make sure your lines are clean," the choreographer called out, scanning the group. "actually, all of you— wait, yn, come here."

they gestured for yn to step forward before turning back to the others. "this. this is exactly how you should be doing it."

"can you demonstrate?" the choreographer asked, turning to yn.

all eyes were on her now.

she stood there, unfazed, wearing bedazzled sunglasses so dark it was a mystery if she could even see. paired with baggy pink sweatpants, a top that barely passed as a shirt, more like a bikini top and, of all things, a pair of low moon boots.

what the hell is she wearing? chaewon had muttered under her breath when they left the dorm that morning and how does someone where that and still look good yn did, gosh she was a mess, a mess who was still the best in the room.

she unpaused the music, and immediately, yn started moving.

yn was versatile. no matter what concept was thrown at them, she adapted effortlessly, slipping into each one like it was made for her. sakura wasn’t going to lie, she had to mentally prepare every time they switched concepts, had to push herself to embody something new.

so watching yn do it so easily… it always made her feel a certain way.

like now.

the choreographer clapped after yn finished the part she instructed her to do, “that’s exactly how I want you guys to do it, keep your eyes on yn for now on.”

sakura kept her eyes on yn the whole time, noticing how the girl didn’t seem all that pleased with the choreographer’s praise.

why was that? if it were her, she’d be basking in it.

“yn you can go back, let’s start from the top.”

the rest of practice was a disaster, not in terms of their dancing, but the energy in the room. it didn’t feel like teamwork. it felt like competition.

sakura didn’t just want to match yn’s movements. she wanted to surpass them, but she couldn’t and that was the problem.

sighs of relief filled the room as the girls took sips of water, exhaustion settling in while they packed up their things.

sakura slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave, when she noticed something, yn was the only one who hadn’t packed up yet.

she stood alone in the corner, quietly sipping water from the dispenser, as if in no rush to leave.

sakura wasn’t the only one who noticed.

she watched as kazuha’s gaze landed on yn, her brows furrowing as she said something to her. whatever it was, sakura couldn’t make it out over the chatter of the other girls.

her curiosity only grew when kazuha suddenly shook her head, turning away from yn and heading back toward the group.

"let’s go," she muttered, not looking back.

"wait, wait, what’s up with yn?" sakura asked as the rest of the girls filed out of the room.

kazuha let out an annoyed sigh. "she’s staying to practice more. said she’ll be home in an hour, but knowing her, that probably means tomorrow."

"hasn’t she done enough?" sakura scoffed. "she already embarrassed us today. does she even realize we’re supposed to be on the same level?"

if yn wanted to be that good, maybe she should’ve just been a soloist.

kazuha opened her mouth to respond, but she just let out a sigh and shook her head.

most nights, sakura was the first to head to bed or at least the first to retreat to her room.

but not tonight.

it was nearly 1 a.m., and instead of sleeping, she sat on the couch, mindlessly watching netflix, barely paying attention to the time.

she flinched at the sound of the front door creaking open, instinctively pulling her blanket tighter around herself.

she had just finished a horror movie and was already onto the next so this was definitely not an ideal situation.

sloppy foot steps was heard making her furrow her eyebrows until it hit her, yn.

yn came into view, the sunglasses she had worn earlier now gone, revealing tired, red rimmed eyes. an oversized sweater hung loosely over her frame, swallowing her up.

she stumbled slightly as she walked through the entryway, one hand reaching out to the wall for support.

"yn?" sakura called out, her voice laced with confusion.

yn looked up at her, her eyes barely open. when she saw sakura, they widened in surprise. "um..." she mumbled, unsure of how to respond.

“I thought you came back hours ago, were you still practicing?” sakura questioned, yn’s whole body language setting alarms in her head, “how did you even get back?”

“it was one of my family’s drivers. It doesn’t matter what time, it's their job." yn mumbled, her words barely audible as she completely avoided sakura’s eyes.

"that sounds pretty privileged," sakura scoffed, her tone sharp with disbelief.

"it was either that, or I would’ve passed out with no one around to help." yn snapped back, her words laced with frustration.

"huh?" sakura muttered, finally noticing the hospital bracelet wrapped around yn’s wrist. "yn... were you just at the hospital?"

"what does it look like?" the younger girl shot back, heading toward the kitchen without a second glance.

sakura followed her without hesitation. “what? how? why?”

yn opened the fridge and grabbed a cold water bottle. “you know, the usual, undereating, overworking.”

“the usual?” sakura echoed, disbelief creeping into her voice.

yn let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the counter. “why do you even care?”

"because one of my members was just in the hospital, didn’t contact any of us, and then just casually calls it the usual?"sakura shot back, her frustration clear, “why would I not care?”

"because it is the usual. not my fault you haven’t noticed," yn shot back, her voice tinged with irritation. "and why would you not care? because you haven’t before, sue me."

sakura let out a frustrated sigh. "yn... this is different. this is important. this is your health."

yn shook her head, taking another sip from her water bottle. "it really isn’t different. with all the stuff you say about me, all the things you probably think about me, why on earth would you care about this?"

“yn-”

"well, since you’ve gotten me started, I guess I should finish, right?" yn cut her off, taking another sip of water, her movements sluggish like someone trying to sober up. "you know, you were probably the one who hurt me the most." after chaewon of course but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.

sakura furrowed her brow, confusion flooding her expression as yn continued. "I mean, you’re the older, motherly one who takes care of everyone... but you never even batted an eye at me. so, sorry for being freaked out right now by you suddenly caring."

the words hit sakura like a punch to the gut. she felt a sharp pang in her chest, she didn’t know how to respond.

"and when I found out you and chaewon were former idols, I thought, great, I have someone older who can guide me through this crazy industry," yn rambled, her voice thick with frustration. "but I guess I’m just too rich and perfect for that. instead, I had you laughing along with everyone else while old men belittled me."

sakura opened her mouth, but no words came out. it felt like everything yn said was just pouring out, and she was left speechless.

yn leaned further against the counter, taking another sip of water, and sakura couldn't shake the thought, was that even water?

"maybe it’s just me being dumb and craving that mother figure but it was such a shock for me," yn continued, "because when I was at sm, the girls I was with took care of me so well. you know aespa, right? you probably know I was supposed to debut with them?"

sakura nodded, her mind numb, her stomach sinking. guilt consumed her, she felt sick.

“yn-”

"did you also know I was forced out of the lineup because of my father?" yn’s words were laced with venom, and sakura flinched, the sharpness stinging her more than she expected. "I don’t want to be in this group as much as you don’t want me here."

"yn-"

"I have a question for you, unnie," yn said, dragging out "unnie" with a mocking tone. "do you hate me, or is it your insecurities getting the best of you?"

sakura was speechless. yn was right. yn was rich, pleasant, and constantly praised, yet that was just the surface, what sakura had seen from the outside. she didn’t know the full story, but the proof was standing right in front of her.

sakura wanted to be her in some ways, and that desire had only gotten in the way of building a connection with her.

"yn… I-"

"what’s going on?" chaewon’s voice broke through the tension, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she stepped into the kitchen. "I heard noise—what the hell, did you just get here?" her words were aimed at yn, who just shook her head, walking past chaewon and down the hall.

sakura’s gaze lingered down the hall where yn had disappeared, her chest heavy. chaewon’s questioning tone snapped her back to the moment. "what happened?"

a lump grew in sakura’s throat as she struggled to find the words. "um, nothing. just go back to bed."

she finally understood yunjin.

[animamii]

i need some locked up toji headcannons real bad 😩

ohhh bebecita I gotchuu c; this is something slightt inbox me 4 more

lockedup!Toji always ends his phone calls with you by asking "So... whatcha wearing right now, princess?" Which you always respond with something along the lines of "you're ridiculous... you're impossible... you're too much..." along with that sweet lil giggle he loves so much.

lockedup!Toji always begs for you to send him pretty pictures with your letters. He misses seeing that face of yours. It always makes him smile when it's a simple, cute selfie. "There's my pretty girl..." he'd say to himself as his fingers brush over it. Then he gets to a picture of you showing too much cleavage or something a little more revealing and he's likeee AWOOOGAAA 😍😍 lmfao. But forreal he shuts his cell door and needs a little him time.

lockedup!Toji is addicted to his damn Honey Buns. His favorites are the creamy curl and jelly swirl. Something about that chocolate and cream. "The middle is all creamy, it reminds me of you." His nasty self would say.

lockedup!Toji would come out of the pen being a damn chef though. Since he had to use nasty ass processed food to make prison meals, he knows exactly how to use different ingredients to make some bomb ass food. But still,,,, he wants his damn honey buns and maybe will eat a jail spread occassionally.

lockedup!Toji always loves when you use those Hello Kitty stamps on the letters you send. Ofc his favorite sanrio character is Badtz Maru. But his favorite stamps are the ones of Hello Kitty and Dear Daniel. It always reminds him of you two.

lockedup!Toji always dedicates music to you, whether he tells it to you over the phone or in his letters. He always includes one song. Wholeheartedly dedicated Kiss Me Thru The Phone to you, lmfao and Honey Bun by Kodak Black. *I have a whole ass playlist for Toji + Sweetheart i luvvv it*

lockedup!Toji begging you to marry him so you can get conjugal visits. He can't stand seeing you looking so pretty from the other side of a glass. He needs to feel you and touch you and actually be fucking inside of you.

lockedup!Toji starts thinking about his future with you a lot. He wants to start a family with you, wants kids and a white picket fence house and all that shit. So he starts writing down baby names and all that stuff. He wants another son so bad, wants to name him Malachi.

lockedup!Toji always bragging about you to everyone else. It's commissary day, where he gets the packages you send + he gets to buy whatever he wants from the commissary store with the money on his books (he has Shiu send him some hideaway money he stashed every week). But all he really cares about is the packages you send. It's all so personal, every little touch you put into it *thinking ab doing a whole drabble on this lmk bbs's* "look at what my girl sent this time." He'd say to his celly with a smirk as he holds up all the snacks and cute little notes you write.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 || 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠-𝐖𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: angel of satisfaction || part two: here

summary_the fallout of your love story with jeong-won and how he begged long enough to drastically change your life.

warnings_ age gap (not specified but reader is in uni), implied sex, cheating, fluff, angst but happy ending , reader smokes, is implied to be American and PLOT TWIST at the end, NO PROOFREADING

notes_ need to watch goblin and the silent sea :( using the salesman tag to avoid the flop allegations

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

The smell of cigars filled your home: you never thought you would deliberately find yourself smoking.

But there you were, looking at the cloudy skyline while you threw out the unhealthy smoke.

Your phone rang and you pulled it out of your pocket.

The ninth call of the day. Three times three is the charm.

“What the fuck do you want?” You neutrally ask, ignoring the beating of your heart.

“…y/n? Thank goddess you’re answering” You roll your eyes. “We need to talk, there’s a lot you-“

“Jeong-won, I don’t want to talk about anything with you” The exasperated tone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by him, which makes him feel even more stressed out. “In fact, I don’t want you to keep calling me. I don’t want you messaging me. I don’t want to have your follow on social media. I don’t want to hear your music in the clubs. I don’t want to ever fucking see your face again”

“Please, y/n. I don’t deserve to explain myself but-“

“I told you, you only had to pay for that dinner and forget about me. I suppose you didn’t mend things with your wife…” you abruptly cut him off, watching the smoke of the cigar fly out of your place.

“It’s complicated…” he sounds tired, sad and pathetic.

“Yeah… Everything’s that way with you. I just didn’t want to see it” you spit out, hanging up, leaving him to make a mess over the deadline.

You didn’t know how, but you would try everything just to forget him. But when you get out of the apartment the first thing you notice is the public trash can.

There lies the flower bouquet that appeared at your door three days ago. It had been Jeong-won’s first attempt to say sorry.

But so far it wasn’t working.

…

Three weeks into trying to move on. The first days felt like walking throwing a dark alleyway with no return. Tears always find a way to run out of your eyes, but you couldn’t deny, that you felt better.

Your friends helped a lot. Seoun-mi was the only one who said that if Jeong-won insisted, you could let him explain himself. Ruby and Jade immediately said no.

The spring was right around the corner. The rain was slowly coming to an end. The coats were being replaced with sweaters and cardigans. Even the sun cooperated, warming enough to make you go out to run.

Jeong-won crossed the street to walk towards his car. He had submitted a mini EP of music, expected to release mid-spring.

The city looked active, almost as if everyone had been trapped by the winter. He pulled out the keys to his car when he looked up.

His feet dragged him away, noticing a woman jogging down the street.

His face turned in awe after realizing it was you. Your matching grey tracksuit was hard to miss. He remembered you mentioned you were asthmatic, he wondered if you carried your inhalator.

“Y/N!” Jeong-won couldn’t care less if everyone stared at him as if he was insane. He started running hoping to get your attention.

His heart started beating so fast, the rush of seeing your face again, the hope of having you by his side again.

But that didn’t happen, you didn’t even listen. Music was playing so loud through your wireless headphones.

Jeong-won stopped running. He stared at your blurred vision and sighed in dismay.

His phone rang and he answered, still looking at you.

“Are you busy?” In-ji asked.

“No. I’m going home…” the man answered.

…

As the desperation started to burn you, the need to go out also grew stronger.

Ruby and Seoun-mi had seminars, and Jade had a meeting with her major advisor.

The outcome? You dancing all alone in a club.

You couldn’t go to the same one where you used to go. That’s where you met Jeong-won, it was too painful.

But as the alcohol sinks in, you start to feel tipsy, alerting you to stop drinking.

For a second you thought it was already too late but Han Jeong-won was actually there.

He gently pushed people to come to you.

There isn’t even time to feel angry, nervous, or panicked.

“What are you doing here?” You ask loudly.

“I came with a friend…” he admits, looking hopeful.

When you try to sneak away, Jeong-won grabs your wrist and pushes you against his chest. Only to then kiss you.

In his arms, you felt safe.

With his kisses, you felt cherished.

The man who urgently smashed his lips with yours in the middle of the dance floor while music blasted from the speakers was the love of your life.

He couldn't resist the temptation. Couldn't miss the chance and needed to let you know he always loved you. That everything was true.

"Please, believe me..." he pleaded, holding your hands.

"Fuck you, Jeong-Won"

Frivolously, you leave the taste of poison on his lips. His hand tried to grab yours again, but you slipped, leaving him.

Like you had already done before.

But it didn't make it easier, because tears started falling down the first step out of the club.

And in the middle of the cold night, you slip into your coat and start a quiet walk towards home.

You wished you knew he was mourning a life he had before you.

…

Caffè Americano…

The smell fills your nostrils and the warmth of the cup soothes the cold of your hands. Too many thoughts have run through your head over the days. And it was very rushed to say you were over Jeong-won. Walking through the same streets you once walked while feeling in love was devastating, as dramatic as it sounded.

But it’s a good day. You can feel like you are reaching peacefulness and it’s enough.

It’s been a month and a half since you last saw him. The world is not fresh, but it’s still open.

You walk out of the coffee shop, your boots sound with every step you take and the cool air makes the very few cherry blossoms in the trees fall.

Your eyes scan the street; everyone is just there living.

When would you start feeling like yourself again?

Apparently not at that moment. After coming down the little steps of the coffee shop, you look up and meet two people talking, just inches away.

Why was life so cruel? Why do you have to meet your ex-boyfriend and his wife right then and there?

They feel someone standing in their eyes, but they try to act so normal, like you hadn’t seen them. You start walking away. With firm steps and a well-hidden urge to run as well.

His hair looked the same, but his face looked less tired. She looked younger if that was even possible, with longer hair and more casual clothes.

Jeong-won and In-ji stare at each other awkwardly.

“Go after her” she softly tells him. Jeong-won stares back at her with unease before turning back his attention to you.

He knew you wanted to run away the moment you saw them.

“We already met once. What if we met again and she’s in the middle once again?” He can’t deny the anxiety growing as you stop waiting for the traffic lights to change.

“Jeong-won, perhaps we were really never meant to be together…” his face almost turns into a childish pout.

But maybe… In-ji was right.

She was kind, supportive and caring. She would’ve been a great wife. But their marriage started as a contract, Jeong-won never knew her completely.

He never felt the same way he did with you.

“We couldn’t even say ‘I love you’ to each other…” the woman admitted with a sad smile.

Then both turned to look at you.

“Go, explain her everything. And if we see each other again. It’s because we are meant to be friends. But that’s it…” Jeong-won almost felt his eyes turn glassy. But he nodded, gave Noh In-ju a brief kiss on the forehead, and literally started running towards you.

For a moment he thought about

You are still waiting for the green light when you hear him. You spot a cab and make him a sign to stop by you.

“Y/N !” When you look back, you see Jeong-won running, out of breath with his hand waving in an attempt to make you notice him.

You sigh, already feeling stressed out.

“This needs to stop. I can’t take it anymore!” You almost yell as soon as he ends up face-to-face with you. “I know it was just a coincidence and she’s your wife, but it’s not fair. I can’t do this anymore…”

You’re so mentally exhausted that you don’t even notice your eyes tearing up until the cool air makes you aware of the tears.

“Please, don’t cry. If you just let me explain… you and I-“

Boom. You explode…

“YOU AND I, NOTHING!”

It spills out of your mouth. The words even hurt you since you know it’s not true. People around stare but you don’t care.

“This is why I can’t go out anymore. I’m so scared that I will have to see your face again… “ his heart breaks, he can’t stand your tired and hurt tone, your burning cheeks, and your red eyes.

He wants to make it better but doesn’t know how.

“I never wanted to hurt you…” he admits with his broken voice and you find the strength to chuckle. “I will remember that when I’m gone…”

“You’re leaving?” Jeong-won finds himself panicking, already desperate to make you stay.

“If the office approves my petition, yes. I’ll leave in three weeks” his face goes pale. “And even after everything… I can’t hate you, Jeong-won”

Your cab arrives just in time, and you disappear without saying anything else. You don’t even look at him again.

And as the cab drives away, you begin to think about anything else. In hopes of forgetting about everything, starting with his face.

…

2:00 am…

You can’t sleep. It was the following night after a hangover day. Your friends almost cried, pleading you stay at least the rest of the semester. You hadn’t thought about leaving the apartment and all of the good memories built there.

You look through the open curtains at the skyline. The same crystal diving you from the city that once was your lullaby as Jeong-won hugged you and combed his fingers through your hair.

You were so sober that you even questioned if he deserved to explain himself.

What if he was in a bad marriage and he couldn’t get divorced but started seeing you? No… Then why did they look very happy talking to each other the last time?

What if he actually never meant to cheat on his wife but tremendously fell in love with you? No… He still cheated and never told you about it.

But he said he loved you.

And he looked sincere while doing so…

*beep beep*

Your phone makes you touch the ground again.

After hours of being in the dark, the light of the screen blinds you for a second.

Five new messages…

Jeong-won ♡

You never removed the heart beside his name in the contract.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I can’t sleep again.

and not because I’ve taken

the pills again. I miss you like

you have no idea.

I know I hurt you despite not

wanting to. But as I said, it’s complicated.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

My first wife and I had issues.

She always wanted to

control me. We almost had a kid,

but we lost it and that shattered my

life once again. So she urged me

to sign a fake marriage, now I see

how twisted and stupid it is.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I was so uncomfortable when this

new woman appeared at my place.

It was already a bad place

and it added up to my neglect. It was

never my intention to cheat on In-ji.

I was only being friendly

that night we met in the club. But the

more I heard you, the more I realized

how lonely I was. It was luck or a fluke

that you were in that burger shop

days after.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I swear to you, y/n, that every

word, caress, and moment I shared

with you was real. Never in my life

I’ve been more sure about

feeling like this. I wanted to tell

you about the marriage, but I

didn’t know how. I thought that

no matter how much I tried to

explain, it would sound terrible.

I was so close to falling in love

with her. But thank goodness

I didn’t, because I would have

settled for so little compared

to you. The marriage contract is

over. That day you saw us together,

it was the first time I saw her

in months. She told me to go after you.

Jeong-won ♡ ׂ╰┈➤

I don’t think it’s enough

explanation. But I hope it’s

enough for you to believe me

when I say I truly love you.

I’m so sure I want to waste as

many years as needed as long as

you forgive me. Please don’t leave,

I need you. Even when I don’t deserve

it.

✓ ✓

You don’t cry, you don’t panic, you don’t even blink. You just lock the phone and set it aside. Your eyes locked on the ceiling as you start drifting off, succumbing to sleep.

…

It could’ve been any other day. But it was raining when you decided to drop the final papers to withdraw from the study abroad program and return home. The apartment was a mess, half of it already packed up inside carton boxes and the other half resting as if nothing was happening.

The decision was not properly made, that was clear.

Your head was a disaster, a swimming mess.

Your life has been quite boring but comforting ever since you entered your teenage years. Never in your wildest dreams, you thought you would be stressing over a failed relationship where the man was married.

Three months after that embarrassing night at the restaurant, you are in a very different place and situation.

The rain has stopped, the sun peaks between grey clouds but the streets are still a wet mess.

You avoid the puddles of water that form across the sidewalk. Your cable earphones get tangled with the bunch of papers in your arms. It’s annoying until you slow down to take them off and hold the papers properly.

You bump into someone. The altercation being a little violent makes you almost fall to your knees, but the stranger holds your shoulders.

And the papers fall from your hands, drenching in the water.

“Fuck…” you whisper, hurrying to kneel, not caring that your knees get wet, you can only save the top papers. You see the hands of the stranger also trying to save them. That’s when you look up at the stranger.

Without a warning you end up smiling, Jeong-won smiles back at the instant. Both of you chuckle.

The half-drenched papers slip from your hands again, completely drowning in the puddle of water.

“Is it too late?” He asks.

“For what?”

“For begging you to stay with me…” your hands snake to grab his. He had a black turtleneck sweater and a jacket hanging over his shoulder. He looked painfully gorgeous.

You think about all those hours you spent re-reading his messages.

“I think you have begged enough” you reply.

Needless to say… you just know it was meant to happen.

Your arms lock around his neck and it’s you the one kissing him. Jeong-won mentally sighs, feeling relieved and renewed.

You can feel his arms embracing you tightly, as if scared you would slip away from him again.

Out of breath, he rests his forehead against yours, witnessing how the pain slowly washed away.

“It’s okay…” you almost whisper, he nods, briefly smiling. “Jeong-won, let's go home”

You knew he understood. Both of you knew home was wherever the two of you were together.

…

The heat was slowly building up. The windows started to remain open all day and night. Jeong-won was slightly stressed out, he had an upcoming trip and was in a mall, outside of a candle store.

His phone was almost burning when he realized the day was indeed hot.

“Jeong-won?” He turns only to encounter In-ji, smiling brightly at him.

“In-ji…”

His ex-wife appeared upon him, looking gorgeous. She looked happy, with her long hair now dyed chocolate brown.

“How are you?” He asked giving her a quick hug. “I haven’t seen you in… a long time”

It had been a year, to be exact.

“What happened with y/n?” She asks straight to the point and Jeong-won chuckles. “Why are you laughing?”

“It was bad… Remember?” In-ji nods, then he points at a woman squatting while looking at candles inside the store.

It was you, wearing a sundress that hunched over the floor. A purse hanging from your shoulder with many keychains. And when you stood up and turned to the side, In-ji noticed your left arm was also busy, holding a newborn baby.

“HAN JEONG-WON, YOU HAD A BABY?” the man starts laughing while nodding. “Oh my goddess! Congratulations!”

“I can’t believe it myself” he admits after accepting the hug In-ji gave him.

It felt nice to see her. She was right, they functioned better as friends.

“It’s a girl, right? What’s her name?” His eyes brightened at the subject.

Jeong-won had a baby with you…

“She has two names. June Iseul” the name of the baby rolled over his tongue and he found himself smiling again.

June Iseul was born in the peak of the winter, weighing and measuring less than expected, with matted raven hair and grey irises that were slowly becoming like yours but shaped just like her father’s.

“That’s adorable!” In-hi admitted, feeling awe at the sight of the baby in your arms, wearing a rainbow onesie.

“And I guess you married her?” Jeong-won huffed.

You never denied how June Iseul had been an accident. She came to slow down your academic career, she also made you gain weight and lose some hair but her arrival amidst winter gave you half a year to recover. You felt amazing and June Iseul was growing healthy.

Jeong-won was happier than ever. He was just a little worried about the reason why they were in the mall. Your parents were slightly mad and very confused as to why you left home being single and a full-time student and you were going to visit them being a part-time student, with a boyfriend and a baby.

Jeong-won was nervous, excited, and eager to marry you.

“Well… happens that y/n doesn’t fully believe in traditional marriage. I’ve asked her on multiple occasions but she keeps saying that we shouldn’t push it yet” Jeong-won admits rolling his eyes, she chuckles, turning her head to see you invested in the newborn section. “She’s very smart”

“She is…” he agrees, joining the chuckles and smiling like an idiot at the sight of you with his daughter.

“Well I didn’t have a baby, but I got married” In-ji revealed, making Jeong-won almost gag.

“What? When?”

“Two weeks ago. I met him in Thailand and… I don’t know. I’m just… very happy” Both smiled, feeling in peace knowing everyone had moved on. “I’m happy for you, Jeong-won. I can tell you are living a dream”

“I’m also happy for you…” both smiled at each other.

…

An hour later, you are done shopping and the most important thing is in your hands; a stroller for June Iseul.

Jeong-won pushed the stroller as both of you walked towards a pasta restaurant.

“It sucks that you got me pregnant before my twenties ended. I should be in the club!” you object, exaggerating. You can hear Jeong-won huffing in disbelief.

“You literally go out to the club every week!”

He was right. Your life pretty much remained the same.

“And that’s one more reason I love you so much”

Even with the arrival of June Iseul, Jeong-won had no problems with staying with the baby while you attended classes or decided to hang out with your friends. He used to have a lot of free time, but now… he found the perfect routine.

“What are we ordering?” He asks, grabbing a menu as you both wait your turn to order and pay.

“You pick the pasta and I want a pizza with truffle oil. What do you say?” You negotiate with a smile.

He gets so lost in your beautiful face that he ends up smiling back like an idiot.

“What?” You ask again, chuckling at his silly face. “Nothing, I just love you so much”

You blush. And before you can say anything.

You hear some coos.

“I’ll order, you pick a table and feed Junjun” Jeong-won reassures you, knowing very well his daughter was demanding and using the silly nickname he had given her.

You take a seat at a secluded table and turn the stroller so you can uncover it.

June Iseul was awake.

“Hello, little blossom” she smiled and it melted your heart. “I know you’re hungry…”

She was very small and soft. She had that baby smell but as her mother, you thought your baby smelled perfectly compared to the others.

She locked her eyes with yours as you breastfed her, not caring about the attention because your back was facing the world, and the table was secluded enough to cover you.

June Iseul’s pale skin resembled her father’s, making her look a little like a porcelain doll. Like the one your friend Jade gifted her from Japan months ago.

The doll was very sophisticated and rested along with some baby books and toys.

“Your father isn’t very good at conversations with strangers, right?” You ask your baby as you pull her out of the stroller and into your chest. Your boyfriend seemed to awkwardly be exchanging words with the woman taking the order. It made you chuckle.

After a long night talking and him telling you every single detail of his life, everything changed.

Just when he got a little house in a modest neighborhood and asked you to move in, you accidentally got pregnant.

What seemed like a challenge turned out to be easier than expected. Jeong-won had been the perfect partner all along.

Ignoring the judgment from your peers in classes after you waddled around campus with a baby bump, everything was perfect.

Also ignoring all the insults you threw to Jeong-won while he held your hand in the delivery room, everything was perfect.

So seeing him come with the receipt of the order and taking June Iseul from your arms to burp her made you realize how lucky you were.

How fucked up things were until they weren’t.

You have a boyfriend begging you to marry him and a perfect baby that looks like him. Both are in wait to visit your homeland and parents for the first time.

The flash of your phone pulls Jeong-won out of his trance with June Iseul.

“Are you taking us a picture?” he asks.

“Yes, you both look so adorable” you admit looking at the screen. June Iseul perfectly locked eyes with his father and you captured it in a picture.

You would print it, use it as your lock screen, and send it to your friends.

Ruby immediately replies in the group chat, then Jade, and lastly Seoun-mi.

Rubz <3 ׂ╰┈➤

DILF + adorable baby spotted!!!!

Jadore ׂ╰┈➤

Is that the onesie I bought her?

June Iseul my baby 🩷🩷🩷

misu :) ׂ╰┈➤

Tell Jeong-won he’s not

holding her neck properly:)

misu:) ׂ╰┈➤

I love her <3

you ׂ╰┈➤

Everyone gets In-N-Out and

animal fries after we come

back to Korea (cold ofc)

you ׂ╰┈➤

For being such a good

trio of aunts 💋

You lock your phone with a smile on your face as you stand up.

“Where are you going?” Jeong-won asks.

“To wash my hands, silly” You lean forward to kiss him briefly and you can feel him smiling amidst the kiss.

It’s inappropriate but since the table is secluded, you feel playful enough to add tongue and have a little touch with his.

And then you remember your daughter is in the middle of you two and had just burped.

“She spilled some milk…” Jeong-won hurriedly says, breaking the kiss.

You chuckle and kiss your daughter’s matted hair.

“Then clean her, Jeong-won,” you say before leaving to finally wash your hands. As your steps grow further, you can hear your boyfriend talking in Korean with June Iseul.

“Your mother is a little spitfire. That’s why I want to marry her…”

There’s an embarrassing smile on your face when you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror.

___________________________

Taglist: @stargirl-mayaa @czarinera @dovediva @dreamersparacosm @girlythings111 @love2fangirl @migueloharassoulmate @fangirl4lifetime @wonallofme @otakusimp1 @muchwita @preppyfella @xcinnamonmalfoyx

[mutatedtruth]

@glitter-soda

This is inaccurate information.

From the article:

“Clinicians date pregnancy from the first day of your last period, to help predict the due date. But you’re not pregnant for those first two weeks,” says Fleischman. So someone with a six-week pregnancy may have very little time after a missed period to get abortion care in states with a six-week limit.

So the above photo is actually 4 weeks post-conception (after the sperm and egg meet)

Here are some photos of 4 week old human embryos:

(source)

(source)

(source)

(source)

Here is what a human embryo looks like at 6 weeks post-conception

(source)(gallery)

Here is a website with a timeline of fetal development, including real photographs. All ages referenced to fertilization, not last menstrual period.

Get out a ruler and see how big that ⅛ and ½ inch are. They are visible to the naked eye. This article claims otherwise.

The Guardian article is phrased very manipulatively. Under each photograph they say that these are the gestational sacs and supporting tissues for pregnancy. Only one photo claims to show the embyro, at 9 weeks from the start of the woman's last period.

Some women have irregular menstrual/ovulation cycles. This patient could have ovulated "late" and have it counted as a nine week pregnancy according to these anti-abortion laws. While other women could ovulate "early" and the embryo would appear much more developed at nine weeks.

If you're following the average formula that this article gives (-2 weeks), then the age would be counted as 7 weeks post-fertilization. Here are some photos of embryos this age:

(source)

(source)

(source)

I think everyone should go into this with open eyes. Do not accept false information, even if the people giving it claim to be "on your side", even if it would make you feel better to believe. I support women's right to abortion. I don't support the falsification of biological fact.

I had a misoprostol abortion at 9 weeks post-conception. The fetus had a face and little hands, which matched up with the photos shown on the EHD website.

(face)

(hands)

(source)

I don't regret it. But I think you all need to accept the reality of death. Don't delude yourself or try to hide it. Accept it face on. There are circumstances where you will have to choose to prioritize your life over another person's, for your own good, or else you will suffer. I don't think a fetus is equivalent to a born person, but it's still "alive". You can feel it when you're pregnant. I think the anti-abortionists who eat animal-meat are hypocrites in this manner. They choose all the time to prioritize their life over another's. So why should this be different?

(I'm not vegan either. I've shot a deer. I eat meat.)

You have to decide for yourself if it's better to die a simple, quick death; or to endure years of suffering, poverty, and abuse. That was the choice I made.

The misoprostol abortion was also extremely painful - the worst pain I've felt in my life thus far. I worry that women who are being shown these fluffy amorphous images of tissue are going to go into an abortion thinking it's a piece of cake, when at 9 weeks post-conception there really is a larger object that has to pass through the cervix.

Don't let other people's twisted sense of morality & martyrdom distract you from what's real.

[lovecla]

FAVORITE KIND OF NIGHT ; HUGHES, SLAFKOVSKÝ

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader, quinn hughes x fem!reader, juraj slafkovský x fem!reader, ex-cole caufield x fem!reader

SUMMARY when you found out your boyfriend of two years had been cheating on you the entire time, you do what every girl does when they get cheated on: you fuck his best friends.

WORD COUNT 5,5k

WARNINGS taboo content, cheating, foursome (f/m/m/m), p in v, unprotected sex, degradation, mention of stomach bulge, creampie, double p in v, rough sex, manhandling, dirty talk, humiliation, subspace, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), gagging, dacryphilia, brief aftercare.

FROM ME TO YOU my loves, listen to your clara very carefully: if you do not agree with ANY of what’s written here, please consider not reading. this is just a silly idea i had a few days ago and i wanted to write about it. i have zero intentions of offending anyone: this is pure fiction! none of this is real! anyways, thank you @cyberhughes for listening to my naughty thoughts about this plot and for having my back. love you juni baby, this one’s for you <3 and for those who are still here, have a nice reading!

𖧷

on that lonely night, said it wouldn't be love

but we felt the rush (fell in love)

it made us believe it was only us

THE THING about being a hockey girlfriend is that you will, most certainly, get cheated on.

When you first heard that, you thought it was just bullshit— not all men are the same and all of that. Some people were just unfortunate to have shitty boyfriends, but not you.

Or at least that’s what you thought before watching a viral video of your boyfriend of two years kissing three different girls at a party.

The video was blurry, and maybe if you were a little bit more naive, you wouldn’t have noticed that the man eating those girls’ lips was, in fact, Cole Caufield, the man you swore to be the love of your life.

“Maybe it’s not him, Y/n,” your friend said, voice soft and gentle, as she put your phone down and locked it. “Cole wouldn’t do that… right?”

Right, you want to say. Of course he wouldn’t do that.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to lie and betray your own trust. You sat there, on your couch, thinking about what you were going to do.

Your relationship was public, Cole had already posted pictures of you several times over the years, but now, so was the fact that he cheated on you with not just one girl, but with two more.

Now, everyone knows that you got cheated on, and that you weren’t an exception to the Hockey rule.

“‘s okay,” you sniff, cleaning your nose with your sweater’s sleeve. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, really, but what else could you do?

Truth is, even though you love— loved?— Cole a lot, you had been feeling a little bit weird. Cole didn’t seek you anymore, he didn’t look at you the same way he used to do when you first started dating.

You thought it was just the fact that he was tired and feeling responsible for his team’s recklessness, but clearly, it wasn’t just that.

Days passed after the terrible, awful video, and even though you hadn’t spoken to Cole in probably two weeks— he was away and you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his texts—, you wanted to break things up with him in person.

“Why would you do that?” Your friend asked over the phone, and you sighed.

“Because I’m better than he is,” you say. “And because I need to get closure.”

“I guess you’re right,” she sighs, and then she’s quiet for a few seconds. But, “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” You ask, rolling to your side. “What is it?”

“There’s going to be a party at Zegras’ place tonight,” she says. “Heard Cole shit ass is going.”

“Who told you that?”

“I was talking to one of his new buddies, and he invited me to the party. Said I could go if I kept my mouth shut to you,” she scoffed. “I thought about telling him to hell and then telling him to fuck himself but I thought it might be more useful to pretend I wasn’t going to tell you anything and then tell you everything.”

You chuckled. “Yeah. We’re going, then?”

“We so are going,” she giggles. “I’ll bring the eggs.”

“I’ll bring the flour.”

𖧷

THE PARTY looked more like a frat party than anything, which lowkey disgusted you.

You knew the majority of the players were young and still in their teenager mindset, but whenever you went to a party, it usually had more decorum than whatever this was.

The music was so loud you couldn’t hear your friend talking next to you. People were grinding against each other like they were in heat and ready to fuck in front of everyone, and the room had a strong smell of marijuana and cheap beer.

You rolled your eyes but focused on your reason to be there: find Cole, break up with him and maybe even embarrass him in front of all of his friends.

You tried to warn your friend about where you were going, but since the music was too loud, you just signaled to the door on your right. She nodded, and you moved around the room, feeling with your feet the way the floor shook with the song’s thrumming.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to walk much. Cole’s stupid ass seemed to have forgotten to close his room’s door, and now you were staring at the 5’8” man you thought was going to be the father of your kids, kissing another girl.

“So, this looks really fun, huh?” You said, closing the room’s door, and suddenly, all of the eyes were on you. Cole’s included.

“Y-Y/n, what,” he stutters, removing the girl from his lap and getting up. “What are you doing here, baby?”

“No, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, feeling yourself start to burn with anger. “Weren’t you supposed to be in New York?”

“No, you see—”

“Is your name New York, sweetie?” You ask the girl who was previously kissing him, who looks like a scared, little kitten. Little does she know you’re not going after her— you couldn't care less about her. “Uh, I guess not.”

There were at least eight other people in the room, sitting there and goofing around. But now, all of them looked like they would pay a hundred thousand bucks not to be in Cole’s shoes.

“Y/n—” he tries again, reaching for your arm.

You step back, flinching away from his touch. “Don’t fucking touch me, Cole. You’re fucking sick. I hope y’all have fun,” you hiss, turning around and heading towards the room’s door again. You look over your shoulder, watching Cole’s sorrowful face. “Enjoy as much as you can, darling. I know his dick won’t make you happy.”

You leave the room with fast steps, not before hearing Cole’s so-called friends laugh out loud with your words. You could feel yourself burning with anger, which made you happy. You thought you were going to feel destroyed, sad and depressed when you confronted him about the fact that he cheated on you regularly.

But after seeing his pathetic expression and actions, you realised you weren’t the one who should be feeling that way.

Your legs were moving on their own, and when you noticed, you were on the second floor, barging in another room, opening its door with full strength.

Only to blush even more, this time not with anger, no.

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. Where’s the fire?”

Jack’s sarcastic tone made you hold the door’s handle tighter, and when you looked around, you felt like a fish out of its tank.

The room was poorly lit, only the yellow light from the lamps reflected on the dark walls of the room, making the environment seem more intimate than it really was.

There were sofas along the room, and low music was playing, probably coming from one of the cell phones.

Because not only Jack Hughes was there, but his oldest brother, Quinn and Juraj Slafkovský.

You didn’t even know Quinn and Jack got along with Slaf, yet there they were, sitting and chatting with each other like they weren’t all rivals during the weekdays.

They laughed with Jack’s little remark before Quinn said: “You can come in, we don’t bite.”

“Unless you want to.” Juraj was the one who said this, to your ultimate surprise, and you rolled your eyes, doing as they said and getting in, closing the door behind you.

“Dude, come on,” Jack laughs. “She has a boyfriend.”

“Not anymore,” you say, for the first time since you opened the door. You eyed the drink cart in the corner of the room, taking full steps towards it and opening the first bottle you say. Whiskey. Great. “I just broke up with Cole, actually.”

There was a second of silence before you heard some clapping behind you, which made you turn around and stare at the grown men sitting across the room.

“What’s this clapping for?” You ask.

“It was about time, Y/n, what the hell,” Juraj says. “Guy’s been cheating on you for months.”

“And you guys didn’t think of, I don’t know, maybe give me a heads up?” You ask, sarcasm pouring out of your mouth while you pour the alcoholic drink in the glass sitting on the wooden surface. Then, you walk until you’re sitting beside Quinn and Juraj. “Would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry,” Quinn says, poking your shoulder. “In my defense, I wasn’t around enough to know he was cheating.”

“In my defense,” Jack starts. “I don’t like him.”

“In my defense,” Juraj finishes, opening his legs and resting his arms behind his head. “I couldn’t do it, because I would’ve been called a homewrecker.”

You almost choked on your drink. “What?!”

“You know I’ve been wanting to fuck you for ages now,” he sighs, like he’s tired of saying that; like he’s been saying that for a long time now. “But you can’t exactly fuck your homie’s girlfriend, can you?”

“Word.” Jack says, leaning forward to fist bumping Juraj. Quinn only chuckles and you can’t believe your eyes.

You’ve known all of them for basically the same amount of time, and you liked them a lot. Jack was a little, teasing shit, way too different from Quinn, but he was funny and so were his brothers— hanging out with them was always fun.

Quinn was private but sweet, probably one of your favorite people in the league. His soft spoken demeanor had made its way into your heart and was now stuck there, for the rest of your life, probably.

And Juraj was an old friend, someone you knew even before you started dating Cole— he was the reason you and Cole got together in the first place.

So hearing that one of your closest friends wants to have sex with you is weird, especially because he had just confessed that in front of two other men.

You stare at them, incredulous. “What are you even talking about?”

“Come on, Y/n, you can’t be this oblivious,” Jack grunts, and you tilt your head, confused. “You didn’t notice the way he looks at you?”

“Fuck you, Hughes,” Slaf curses, giving him the middle finger. “Like you’re one to talk. Everyone knows you’re head over heels for her and you know which head I’m talking about.”

Quinn laughs like what Slaf said had been the funniest thing he’d heard in a while, while Jack simply shrugs and looks at you with expectant eyes.

“You are all drunk. That’s the only explanation I can find,” you say, still choosing not to see what is right in front of you. “And I’m about to be the next one.”

You took just one sip before Quinn wrapped his hand around your glass and took it out of your hands. You were about to complain and ask him what happened when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. “We are not drunk, Y/n. And we don’t want you to be.”

“What? Why not?” You ask. “I promise I’m not that type of person who talks about their love life when they’re drunk. I might talk about Tik Tok memes, though.”

“That’s worse than talking about your shit ass love life,” Jack murmurs and you turn around to look at him with angry eyes. “What?” He asks, grinning, with his hands in the air.

“It’s not my fault I can’t find the right guys,” you sigh, resting your head on Quinn’s shoulder like you’re used to doing. “Why do men suck?”

“Not all of them do, sweets.” Quinn says, placing his hand on your naked thigh, making you blush faintly.

“We don’t.” Juraj murmurs beside you, and you hum.

“Well,” you say, measuring your words. “Unfortunately, I can’t have any of you. So, yeah, I still have the same problem.”

“Who said you can’t have any of us?” Juraj says, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Or even better, all of us.”

There’s a beat of silence. The room is suddenly too warm for you, and even if you’re just wearing a skirt and a crop top, you still feel yourself starting to get sweaty.

The song is still playing, an unknown melody reverberating through the room, and what once felt big and spacious suffocates you now.

“You guys. You can’t be serious… right?” You ask, looking at each and every single one of them in the eye.

Jack is the first one to break the silence. “Come on, Y/n. Haven’t you ever thought about us like that?”

You can feel their eyes on you as you think of what to answer. You can’t say you haven’t— that would be a lie. You were loyal to Cole and you loved him, but you weren’t blind.

And now that you’re really thinking, these guys hadn’t been particularly sleek either; Jack with his obsession with calling you pet names, Quinn finding any and every excuse to touch you whenever you were in the same room and Juraj eye-fucking you from afar while you cuddled with his teammate.

So yeah, you have wondered about it before, but it all sounded so insane you didn’t think about it twice. The odds of all four of them liking you were pretty low, so why bother fooling yourself with these kinds of thoughts?

But now, you were sitting in the same room as them, with Juraj’s arm touching yours, Quinn’s hand running up and down your leg, and Jack’s eyes on you, like you were a prey or something similar.

“We can’t do that,” you whisper, trying your hardest to hold onto that single piece of sanity and morals you still had. “You guys are insane. Jack, Quinn’s your brother.” You reason, expecting to knock some sense into them.

Quinn squeezes your thigh slightly. “It wouldn’t be our first time.”

“Besides, it’s fine because we’re not going to fuck each other,” Jack says, like he’s telling you the sky’s blue. “I’m going to fuck you.”

“We are going to fuck you,” Juraj corrects, and you close your eyes, holding your hands together on your lap, trying to keep them still. “What do you say, chéri?” He asks, getting dangerously close to your neck, his strong, masculine scent making your head spin. His lips briefly touch your neck, the contact so light you wouldn’t feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of your surroundings.

Quinn’s warm, big hand is moving up, up and up, and that startles you.

You get up, panting as hard as if you had ran an entire marathon, and you stand in the middle of the room, surrounded by them. By your friends who had just asked to fuck you.

“I can’t— I can’t do this,” you whisper. “What about Cole, what about—”

“Sweetheart, Cole is probably balls deep inside someone else right now,” Quinn replies, and the others hum in agreement. “If you don’t want it because you don’t want to, it’s fine, you know we’d never force you. But,” he spreads his thighs, the outline of his cock is visible and right there for you to see. You gulp, not sure of what to do. “If you don’t want to do it because you still believe Cole deserves your kindness, then I have to say—”

“You’re being dumb,” Juraj finishes Quinn’s sentence, smirking. “You’ll be crying over one small cock when you have three waiting for you. It’s your pick, really.”

Your head is spinning and you feel aware of your body, which is something you hate. You can feel your arms and legs starting to give in, and to your absolute horror and panic, you can feel your underwear start to get sticky.

You walk towards the door, ready to leave, ready to put this night behind and pretend this was all a fever dream, and never think about this again. But, as you grab the handle, you know you won’t be able to forget this, not even if you wanted to.

So, you stop being a hypocrite, and grab the door’s key, locking the door once, and then twice, before exhaling and turning around again.

All three of them are staring at you, with the same expression; lust. It’s sinful and you are certain that you’re going to hell for this, but as you start to get undressed, right there, in the middle of the room, for all of them to see, you can’t help but feel like what you’re doing is nothing but right.

You remove your crop top, pulling the fabric over your head and dropping it on the floor, shivering slightly when the cold breeze hits your naked skin. You do the same with your skirt, letting it fall around your feet like a river, leaving you standing with only your bra and lace underwear in front of them.

“Fuck.” You hear one of them say, you’re not sure who, the word nothing but a whisper.

Juraj is the first one to get up, and get his hands on you. He’s rough, hungry and not careful at all, something you’re not used to but like it anyway.

His lips are on yours almost instantly, and his hands are holding you down while he licks and sucks your mouth. He tastes like some kind of candy you’ve had before, and your brain is screaming that what you’re doing is wrong, so wrong and that you literally just broke up with your boyfriend of two years not even thirty minutes ago but you can’t stop.

It’s maddening, it’s addictive and you want more.

It gets worse when you feel another pair of hands on your back, unclamping your bra. You hear a soft tud, which you can only assume is your bralette hitting the floor. Then, there are hands squeezing your tits, hands almost as rough as Slaf’s, and it has you moaning inside his mouth.

“So fucking soft,” you hear Jack say behind you as he gets closer, his hard dick poking your ass over your underwear. “Tits so fucking soft for us, baby.”

And he pinches both of your nipples, making you whimper loud and separate your lips from Juraj’s. There’s a saliva string connecting both of you and it makes you feel nasty.

He gives you a brief peck before gently slapping your thighs twice, silently asking you to remove your underwear, which you promptly do. You slide your lace panties over your legs, shyly throwing them away from you.

It’s only then that you notice Quinn staring at you from the couch, half naked with his dick out of his boxers— the thought of him getting off only by watching you makes you squeeze your thighs together, to stop your hole from clenching around nothing.

“Let’s get you wet and ready, alright?” Juraj says, manhandling you around like you were just a toy for him to break, until your back touched the cold, wooden surface of the table sitting in the middle of the dark room. You arch your back, pouting with the coldness and Slaf coos at you. “I’m sorry there isn’t anything more comfortable than this.”

“Like she cares about comfort,” Quinn snorts. “The only thing she’s worried about it’s whether she’s taking one or two cocks in that greedy pussy of hers.”

The humiliation Quinn’s words bring you is almost unbearable, yet it has you dripping anyway. Their laughs, the way they’re all staring at you like some piece of meat makes you feel hot all over.

Juraj lays you down carefully, only to spread your legs open with the same roughness he used before, when his lips were on yours. You yelped, feeling exposed and embarrassed— your bare, glistening pussy was on display for all three of them to see.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone say, Juraj maybe, and you cringe, hiding your face with your hands. “She’s perfect.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hear Jack say behind you and you remove your hands from your face. Suddenly, he’s sliding his pants down, his dick touching his covered abs as wraps his fist around his length, slowly jerking off in front of you.

You’re watching it in awe, even as you stare at him upside down, since your head is hanging off the table’s edge. He smirks down at you at the same time Juraj licks your clenching hole, making you moan for the first time, loud and involuntary.

“Ah.”

“Shit,” you hear Slaf say. “Pussy so fucking wet and sweet. Y/n, you’ll drive me crazy.”

You don’t answer; not because you don’t want to but because Jack places his hands on both sides of your cheeks, squeezing them together until your mouth forms the perfect O and he can slide his entire dick inside it.

He moans noisily as you gag on his long dick. It’s an unexpected feeling, to have your throat fucked like this— Cole wasn’t a big fan of messy, rough blowjobs— but fuck if it doesn’t get you wetter.

Juraj is still working hard on your pussy, licking your folds and throbbing clit, eating it with a loud slurp, the sound of your wetness making you close your eyes with pleasure and shame.

“Your mouth feels so good, pretty,” Jack moans behind you, still holding your head in place while he drags his dick through your throat. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears and you feel your mouth so full it is starting to hurt. “Almost as tight as a pussy.”

It’s overwhelming to try to manage the feeling of Juraj’s tongue and Jack’s cock on you. You feel warm, your hands are gripping the table like your life depends on it, and you can feel yourself start to slip more and more.

“She’s wet enough already,” Quinn states, and the fact that he’s referring to you like you’re not even there makes you whimper loudly around Jack’s cock.

Next thing you know, you’re being manhandled again; Jack’s rough hands leave your cheeks to hold your waist instead, taking you to the nearest couch and laying down with you on top of him.

You’re facing him, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n,” he starts, his tone gentle for the first time that night. You hum, adjusting yourself on top of him, until you have both of your legs on each side of his body, almost on fours on top of him, highly aware that Quinn and Slaf could see everything. “We are going to be rough.”

“I know,” you whisper.

“I’m not asking for permission, baby, do you understand that?” He talks to you like one would do to a child, using a tone so soft it could put you to sleep, if it were any other situation. You bite your lips, feeling Slaf’s long fingers sliding up and down your pussy, rubbing circles on your swollen clit while Jack speaks. “We are going to be rough. Tonight, you’re nothing but a toy for us to play with, alright? A hole for us to fuck.”

You nod, closing your eyes momentarily as Juraj pinches your clit, hard. He tugs it and it feels like he just placed a clothespin on you. It hurts so. Good.

“I need your words, baby.”

“I u-understand that,” you sob, hot tears running freely down your face as you continue to speak. “I w-want it.”

Jack chuckles, touching your face with care. “It would be so nice if we actually cared about what you want, huh?”

You bit your lip again, suppressing a loud moan. It would be even more embarrassing if they realized how wet you got every time they were mean towards you.

“Bitch gets wetter and wetter every time you say shit like that, Hughes,” Juraj says, and your entire face burns with shame, as you hide it in the crock of Jack’s neck. “Come see this shit, Quinn.”

You tremble as you hear a pair of steps echoing through the room, and without warning, you feel your hips getting lifted, just slightly, at the same time you feel two fingers being inserted inside deeply in your pussy.

You whine loudly, not even feeling pain with how wet you were. His fingers were moving around like you were nothing but a sex doll, making you hold Jack’s arm to steady yourself.

“Look at this tight, little thing,” Juraj says, twirling his fingers around, scissoring them inside you. “Merde. She’s milking my fucking fingers, bro.”

“I can see that,” Quinn hums. “Pussy so fucking greedy she’s taking you without complaints.”

You were about to moan again when Juraj removed his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing, once again. “Let’s start, then.”

After that, it’s hard to tell what really happened. You were thrown around, and suddenly, Slaf was laying under you, Quinn was standing beside you and you assumed Jack was behind you.

You could feel one of them poking their cock through your slit, gathering all your wetness to use as lube. Then, he slowly started to insert it, the stretch making you whimper inside Slaf’s mouth, as he bruised your lips roughly again.

Jack had barely given you time to adjust to his length when you felt Juraj’s tip poking at your entrance too. You gasped inside his mouth, feeling his dick joining Jack’s inside you and.

Oh.

“Fuck, Y/n.”

You opened your eyes, glistening with tears, and stared at Quinn standing beside you, who was looking at you with fond eyes. He chuckles while staring down at you, taking his dick out again and grabbing it with his right hand, running the tip over your mouth.

The salty taste of his precum painting your lips white distracted you momentarily from the fact that Juraj was still trying to put his dick inside you, accompanying Jack’s.

But it wasn’t enough, of course— even if Juraj's thick, long fingers had stretched you, it didn’t compare to having both of their cocks inside you, together.

“Oh,” you heard Quinn coo. “She’s crying. Maybe she can’t take it?”

You shook your head immediately, not even acknowledging how desperate you looked. Quinn put his thumb inside your mouth at the same time Juraj completely bottomed out inside you, making you scream around the brunette’s finger.

“Sh, sh,” Juraj mumbled under you. “Take it, hm?”

The stretch hurt, yet you couldn’t ask them to stop— you felt so full and you swear you can feel them rearranging your guts, reaching so deep inside your body that if you were to look, you’d probably see a bulge in your stomach.

“Holy shit, man,” Jack moaned, dragging his dick slowly until only the tip was in, so that he could slam it back into you again. “She’s so fucking tight.”

“Move, Hughes.” Juraj hissed under you, and after that, everything fell into a pure state of lust.

Jack and Juraj slammed their cocks inside you rhythmically, like they were dancing a well rehearsed dance. Your body jolted forward as they pounded inside you, rough hands— you didn’t know who's— holding you by your waist and pulling your hair at the same time.

Quinn, who had just been jerking his cock while looking at you, decides to take the opportunity and shove his dick inside you, making you gag around his thick length.

“Shit, Y/n,” he moans, throwing his head back. “I’m going to wreck your mouth like they’re doing with your pussy.”

And he wasn’t lying. He tilted your head to the side and thrust his dick deep inside your mouth, until your nose touched his crotch area. You gagged, still not used to the reckless act, but you were far too gone to complain.

The room smelled like sex, lust and sin. The dark walls watched as you laid on top of Juraj’s much bigger body while you took their cocks in two of your holes, with your pupils blown and wide. Your face was destroyed, it didn’t need to be a genius to realize that; your mascara had smudged under your eyes and the tears had spread the black ink almost everywhere.

Your legs hurt, and so did your jaw, but the pleasure was bigger than any pain. You had never felt this dirty, this raw before, but you feared that after this night, you wouldn’t ever be the same; nothing besides them would ever be enough.

“She feels so good,” Jack says, voice filled with need. “She was born for this.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Juraj says, kissing your neck while you gagged around Quinn’s dick. “Born to take cock inside her tiny pussy.”

After that, you keep slipping and slipping. You come on their dicks at least twice, falling apart each time you feel your wetness coating their dicks.

Your throat is raw, your jaw is hurting, but Quinn is close to his climax, like his brother and Slaf.

Jack and Slaf are the first to come, both painting your walls white with their seed. It’s maddening, your belly feels full of them, but you don’t have time to acknowledge that properly, not when Quinn is also coming deep inside your throat.

You lay limp on top of Slaf’s broad chest, closing your eyes, tired.

But—

“Y/n, hey,” you hear Quinn calling, and you open your eyes, just barely. “Can you stand up, just for a bit?”

“Don’t let it go to waste, baby,” Juraj warns you, and you keep clenching even after they remove their dicks. It’s hard, you feel so open you should be disgusted at yourself but you still try to do as they said.

You feel a pair of hands lifting you, and you sigh, exhausted. They manhandled you until you were laying on top of the couch, head resting on your arms. A rough pair of hands— Jack’s— spread your legs open, leaving you exposed once again.

“Go on,” he commands, and you let it go, feeling their sticky cum pour out of your used, gaping pussy. You sob, feeling dirty.

“Jesus fuck.”

“I think I’m hard again.”

“Lowkey, yeah.”

You collapse on the couch once you feel like there’s nothing left, blacking out as soon as your head hits the leather.

𖧷

YOU WOKE up with a light touch on your cheek.

It takes a while for you to manage to open your eyes, but when you do, you thank whoever decided to put a yellow, warm lighting in that room.

“Hi.”

Jack’s voice brings you back to the present, and you lift your head, only then realising that you were in his lap, fully clothed— with clothes that weren’t yours— and covered with something heavy that felt like a blanket.

You frowned.

“What… what happened?” You ask, looking around. There was Juraj, who was placing a few takeout bags on the table, and Quinn, who was holding an old piece of cloth. “Oh my God.”

It was real. You fucked Jack, Juraj and Quinn.

“Oh my God,” you groan, hiding your face in Jack’s chest.

“I hope these exclamations of yours are because you’re wearing Zegras’ hideous clothes and not because you realized you fucked the three of us.” Jack says, sarcasm taking over his face.

“Why would we do that,” you mumble. “Gosh. That’s wrong in so many ways, I can’t even begin to—”

“Y/n,” Quinn calls you, dropping the cloth on the table— the same table Juraj had eaten you out on— and walking towards you, lifting your chin with two of his fingers. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I— Well— We—” you stumbled over your words, not sure of what to say.

He applies pressure on your chin, sapphire eyes squinting at you. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I—” you sighed. “Yeah. I did.”

He smiled.

“Then we’re fine.” It’s all he says, before pecking your lips, briefly. It was your first time kissing him and you secretly didn’t want it to be the last.

“We liked it too,” Jack says once his brother lets you go. He winks at you, smirking. “I’ll never forget the sight of you full with my—”

You put your hand over his mouth, red as an apple. “Okay, alright, shut up.”

He chuckles, taking your hand away and kissing you, exploring your mouth with his tongue, just like his brother had done, barely two minutes ago.

“You guys are no fun,” you hear Slaf’s voice. “In my opinion, we should just keep doing this.”

“No,” you say. “This was a one time thing. We can’t keep fucking each other like this.”

“As I said, no fun.”

“She’ll change her mind in a few days, I just know it.” Jack says under you and you roll your eyes at his cockiness.

“I’m too tired to argue with you,” you say. “I smell Chinese food. Can we eat?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Quinn says, nodding. “It’s late already. Let’s eat and take Y/n home.”

Juraj and Jack agree with just a few more complaints, and while you watch them take turns to feed you, you realize, with shame, that Jack was wrong about one thing.

It wouldn’t take a few days for you to change your mind.

You had already done it.

NHL MASTERLIST.

JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST.

QUINN HUGHES MASTERLIST.

[syluriar]

please...help me - sylus x mc!reader. part 1

sypnosis: you call sylus to escape caleb.

a/n: i know i'm not the only one who thought this, a lot of us sylus girlies wanted to call out man and get him our of sjyhaven ASAP. so i wrote this little fic for that, and as you can tell by the title this is just part 1. ofc that means there'll be a part 2, maybe a part 3??? let's wait and see :)

warning: caleb being possessive (yandere??). mc (you) feeling uncomfortable and scared of caleb. hurt and some comfort by sylus (i luv you<3 ). this is rushed and like all my fics, have no grammer check.

word count: 990

RING RING

The vibration of the phone rang loudly through the bathroom, the one place Caleb grants you privacy. More than one you were thankful that he wasn’t here, his duty calling him out to do some work, work that you don’t question anymore, exactly how he likes it.

“I’ll be back soon, Pip-squeak,” He said with a tone meaning for warmth, but you feel the opposite, especially when he looks at you with a smile, the one you remember from your childhood, but it’s not the same anymore. 

“Don’t cause any ruckus, ok? We don’t need a repeat of last time.” 

You shudder at the memory, the way his hand had gripped your wrist and dragged you to your bedroom and placed you not so gently on your bed, scolding you not following his orders and locked you in. He would only allow you to come out for food and he would watch you the whole time you ate, sending shivers of fear down your spine the more it went on. It lasted for two weeks, after that you had a bit more freedom, but every night he would announce it was time for you to sleep and lock you in the bedroom, the next would be the same.

And you hated it. You hated how different he was, how much he had changed since you last saw him. Where was the Caleb that joked around with you? The one that always picked you up when you were feeling down? The one that would wipe away your tears and hold you close? 

Where’s one where you felt safe with? 

Gone. He was all gone, and he scared you. You couldn’t stay here any longer, to try and get the old Caleb back. You had enough of being ordered around and being scared. 

RING RING

Despite Caleb’s watchful eye you managed to snag a new phone as he confiscated yours, checking though all your data to make sure you couldn’t leave, Luckily you thought he would do that and got rid of anything that would get you into trouble; contacts, messages and pictures in your camera roll. So far he hasn’t commented on anything which you pat yourself on the back for.

Another thing your proud of is remembering a phone number, just one that you know would get you out of here.

RING RING

“Please pick up…” You whispered desperately. You have called the number twice now, and you hope people are right when people say third time's the charm, because you needed as much luck as possible right now.

RING RING - 

“I must say your persistence to get hold of me is both annoying and -”

“Sylus!” You couldn’t hold back the happiness as you heard his voice, it had been so long since you last heard it.

“...Is that you, sweetie?”

“It is.” You answer, the endearing name making you blush instantly. 

“Who’s phone are you calling on? Did you get a new phone and not tell me?”

“I’ll tell you that later but I need you to listen to me.” Time was of the essence, and you didn’t want to waste any of it. “I need you to track this phone and come help me.”

“Help you?” His tone held confusion. “What trouble have you gotten into now?”

“Don’t ask. I just need you to come to Skyhaven and get me out of here, fast.” You spoke hastily, you might have sounded desperate, but right now you don’t care. 

“You sound weird, kitten. Are you alright?”

Trust him to take notice. “Please, Sylus. I can’t get out of here and I’m….” You take a deep breath, tears threatening to spill. “I’m scared.”

His answer was instant. “I’m coming, sweetie. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out in no time.”

It’s like a weight is lifted off your shoulders, your heart is lighter and a smile graces your lips. “Thank you. Please hurry Sylus, I don’t like it here.”

“I can tell, sweetie. I’ll destroy everything if it means getting you out.”

“Maybe don’t go that far, there are innocent people here.”

“The ones that hold you against your will are nowhere near innocent.”

You grimace as you think about Caleb, a small piece of you feeling guilty for this, but you needed to get out of here, and if that meant hurting Caleb to escape…then so be it.

Looking at the time, you realise you’ve been left on your own for a while, and Calen would be due back soon. The last thing you wanted was for him to find you like this. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later?”

“As soon as possible, sweetie. I’ve been making arrangements since you first said you needed my help.”

You end the call quickly and stash within your period products, you knew that Caleb never came in your bathroom, but just in case he changed his mind, at least you knew he wouldn’t search through them.

But now your body is full of nerves, you can’t believe you managed to get through to Sylus, even more so that he’s coming to get you. You just have to wait and keep playing Caleb’s game till he comes, which he assured you will be as soon as possible. In Sylus’ language, that could be within a few minutes to an hour. You hope it’s the first option, but you were determined to wait if that’s what it took.

Before leaving the bathroom you remind yourself to go back to your usual personality that Caleb likes, if he see’s any of your happiness he’ll question it, and you don’t know how long you can lie and fake it for. 

So you lower your excitement, lose your smile and take a few deep breaths to calm your beating heart. Once your assured that you’ve gone back to the obedience look, you open the bathroom door - 

“Have a nice phone call, Pip-squeak?”

[front-facing-pokemon]

[absolxguardian]

@egregiousderp #especially since you can find writings of early modern and medival european men writing about the pros of being friends with your wife#they have no concept of romance just friendship and carnal desire#if you actually like your wife shes your best friend#so its culture!#<-absolxguardian’s prev tags#I CAN COMMENT ON THIS ACTUALLY!#because marriage wasn’t so much about sexual desire as it was about the duty of procreation and lineage for a lot of nobler houses?#it’s more tied in with the idea of status or duty!#you see that especially well in some of the chivalry movements#wanting to have sex with someone was almost completely divorced from the idea of proper marriage#seducing a guy you like so he has to ‘do the right thing’ and make your child legitimate was a thing#we have a very different view of sex and marriage post-birth control pill is my theory at least#it’s still super odd as an ace person seeing these people who don’t even LIKE their spouses as people but are so horny for them they marry

You're exactly right. My tags were just about one aspect of this different system, not differentiating between friendship and feelings of emotional affection towards your spouse/sex partner (romance). This isn't even getting into marriage, which was a thing that could be separate from both sexual attraction and friendship/romance. The idea that the birth control pill caused a major sea change is commonly accepted historiography (as well as easier to use condoms and for a period of time before HIV emerged cures for all STDs). A lot of our contemporary sex negative ideas are out-dated good advice when sex could be very dangerous (of course these ideas have forgotten their purpose. They become self justifying with their own value judgements, instead of practical advice about pregnancy being dangerous and new people causing complications).

Another thing that has occured to me since writing those tags is the idea that some contemporary historians have, deeming very close friendships between 17th and 18th century as "romantic friendships" (and thus sexless). This is done in a very no-homoing way, but considering this a way to make their relationship not queer is asexual erasure. But on the other hand, these relationships weren't considered deviant or even all that close to sodomy in their own time periods. But if their culture can be seen as not differentiating between romance and friendship, then what?

I'd put my guess for the emergence of romance as a concept in Europe as with the movement- romanticism- it takes its name from. But I don't feel like I know enough to confidently present this as a thesis, and I haven't been able to find an actual acadmic paper saying the same thing. Potentially you could say that courtly love is the first instance of romance in Europe, but you could also classify it as being about sexual tension and unconsummated sexual relationships. They did consider what they did dancing around the line, in a time when you weren't required to like your spouse. (And this is just Europe, but I know very little about this kind of intellectual history elsewhere, since I can only read stuff that has been translated into English).

I'm currently in a philosphy of sex and love class, and after four weeks I have no more insight into what romantic love is. But most of the texts we've read have been about figuring out a definition for love in general. The only guy who put forth an idea about romance specifically, has a definition that is incompatible with polyamory. But I am writing this right before doing the readings for our upcoming week that is focused on polyamory, so maybe I'll have more to say in two hours.

[guy who is aromantic voice] sexual attraction just makes more sense than romantic attraction. like ok, you want to fuck someone. this is quantifiable. it is quite easy to grasp what "i want to fuck someone" looks like, even if you have no idea what it feels like. romantic attraction, though? this is a nebulous construct which seems to largely be "glorified friendship with sex" in the popular imagination. what even is the difference between friendship and romance? the line between friendship and sexual attraction, though both can coexist, is that when there's sexual attraction present, you want to fuck someone. the line between friendship and romantic attraction, so far as i can perceive it within a heteronormative, amatonormative framework, is that it is... friendship where you want to fuck someone. what?

[yojeongin]

playing dangerous | k.dy

→bff’s stepdad!doyoung x f!reader

genre: smut, semi-angst, some fluff, forbidden affair, semi-character study

synopsis: summers are meant to be spent having fun with your best friend not fooling around with her step father.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! cheating, age gap (not focused between mcs), yearning, power imbalance, massive frued psychosexual theory undertones (that old man won), morally grey characters, alluding to cycle of predation and abuse of power, manipulation, lowkey ageism, doyoung heavy mommy issues (worrying actually), oral (m receiving), cum kiss, fingering, foot play, unprotected sex, creampie, voyeurism.

wc: 15.8k || anthology masterlist || soundtrack || ao3

© 2025 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: sorry this took longer than expected, im 3hrs late oops. the corporate lifestyle has been kicking my ass so bad (im so fucking miserable) and i wasn't satisfied with what i was going to post last week anyway so hope this is better (hope).

“Are you sure that’s your step dad and not step brother?”

Disbelief was too soft of a word for what you truly thought. When your friend had given you notice that her mother had married her boyfriend of two years (news to you), you had expected the man to be decrepit and gray haired. Not someone not too much older than what you were. 

Earlier you had confused him with one of the movers who helped bring in your friend’s and her mother’s items into the new home. You went as far as shooting him a flirty smile while making way to your friend who sat peacefully on the porch swing with a glass of cold lemonade to aid her from this horrid summer heat. 

“Yeah…“ she whines, throwing her head back enough to hit herself a tad with the backrest. “He makes her happy. As long as he does, I don’t care how old he is.” She felt judged by your constant questioning. As if she was the one marrying the man. As if she was living through her mother and her decisions to wed someone significantly younger than her. You were the last person she wanted to feel judged by, however could they truly blame your incessant curiosity and shock? Specifically when you never knew her mother was dating. What kind of best friend are you to not be as close as you believed?

Meghan wasn’t the youngest, the woman was sixty and this man looked to be in his late twenties. How could they blame you for your curiosity? 

“So how old is he?” You shift beside her, the swing rocking with every move. “He turned thirty in February. She hasn’t had a partner since I can remember, this is good for her.” Her words attempt to convince her more than you, emphasized by the harsh desperate slurping within the empty glass.

Your friend turned 25 in February too.

“Oh wow, so since he was a kid too?” You joke. It doesn’t land.

“Y/n!” She hits your arm, you laugh in return. “What?!” You whine through laughs, this time purposely rocking the swing. “Come on…” It aches like nails on a chalkboard if she thinks about it. Meghan is her mother, she could easily be Doyoung’s mother as well. She knew Doyoung's mother.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She sighs, hands and glass on her lap. “Yes, the age gap is insane but… they’re old enough.” Your friend frowns, another attempt to convince herself and failing miserably.

Raising your hands in defeat, she smiles, continuing her playful acts of harm. “Want a glass?” She offers, you decline, your mind stuck on the beautiful man standing roughly a few feet away from where you two sat. Your head struggles to not turn his way and gawk like you’ve done earlier. It's difficult, you'll find throughout these months.

You knew you shouldn’t be fawning the way you are. After all, he is now Meghan’s husband. Meghan who has treated you like her own child since Pre-K. But God, you couldn’t help admire the way sweat rolled down his face and the way he wiped it away with the back of his delicate hands. 

At this moment, you’re not too bitter about your summer plans being halted. Not when he’s noticed your covetous glances and sly grins. Perhaps that's what started it all. Your restraint, pulling him step by step to where you sat. Sweat adorning his face and forcing his hair to frame his beautiful features, glistening in this sun.

A tender smile to the public eye but a reciprocative grin to you, “Welcome girls.” He smiles, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the airport.” He turns halfway to look at the movers entering the home. “Duty calls.”

He was cliche with his words, yet smooth enough to make your grin widen. Like a white collar in those vintage Hollywood movies. His voice, softer than imagined. He drew you in the same way you drew him. It was bound to happen.

Tina shook her head, a dismissive and polite smile. She covers her eyes from the sun which did not ambush either. Rather, it was a futile attempt to shield her emotions, easily projected onto her eyes. It’s not resentment she felt towards him. Discomfort and confusion for his decisions is.

Doyoung looks at you briefly, as if to say “I suppose we are not there yet?”, answered by your own polite smile. He dismissed it immediately, shaking his head with a slight chuckle which forced Tina to uncover her eyes, confused.

“Will you be a dear and get me a drink?” He asks when their eyes finally meet. If it means that he won’t read her any longer, Tina nods standing up. She’s out of the picture faster than he had asked without a care that Doyoung took her spot next to you. 

Doyoung smiles your way, his knee bumping into yours while he settles. You return the smile, looking at the contact. Your legs criss-crossed on the swing and his rocking you both. It’s silent besides the movers and Meghan’s music inside the home. Nevertheless, this feels comfortable, scarily so for a first-time meeting.

“I’m sorry for being the reason you two had to cancel your trip.” Doyoung leans over, elbows on his thighs. His back is on full display, wet shirt clinging to the wide muscles that force your lower lip in between your upper teeth.

Your eyes don’t unglue from him, chills running across your body for such a warm day. You sigh, following a streak and bead of sweat from his temple down to his neck. “It's fine, we didn't want to walk around for hours and see old buildings.” You reassure sarcastically, although the tone deadpans.

“No? But Italy is very beauteous. Meghan recounted, you two had been planning on it as an incentive to get through grad school. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Doyoung did not expect to be met with laughter. He was soft spoken, tender, genuinely sorrowful, and a welcoming host. Why must you laugh at him? He’s not too sure.

His quizzical look does not subside, “I was joking, Mr. Kim.” You giggle, wiping at your threatening tears. His eyebrows furrow, yet, folds his handkerchief to a clean corner, doing the task for you. He's so close. So comfortable with being this near to a complete stranger.

“You’re narrowly five years younger than I. Please don't call me that.” He defends petulantly, forgetting about what brought you both to this topic. It sounds insane and dumb to be called that as if he was his father or an old man, he was only thirty.

It is insane and so is marrying a woman who was his current age when he was born.

You hum a response, turning away from him with a slow nod. “Do you always talk like that?” Your voice lures him again, craning his head to look at you. “Like you’re a pretentious liberal arts professor.” It’s lighthearted and mocking at the same time. Your smile slowly forms and he mirrors it.

“My father is a professor. Not for the liberal arts though but perhaps it rubbed off.” “Perhaps.”

He laughs softly in light of your continuing mockery, “Y/n, correct? I fear I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Doyoung shifts in his spot, his body facing you. He extends his hand and you take it. His fingers are nimble and long, his palms clammy but soft, and his grasp is strong but delicate against your own. 

Your smile doesn’t falter, thumb caressing his knuckles, an act he replicates against your own. “Yes… beautiful house by the way. What do you do for a living?" You ask curiously, met by a scolding shriek when Tina and Meghan come out with glasses of lemonade, something you did not want. Lemonade and their interruption, it's interchangeable.

"Y/n those things are not asked!" Meghan scolds, handing Doyoung his glass. He laughs, shaking his head while taking a sip. You watch some of it slip from the corner of his lip. He is such an unfortunate person when it comes to liquids, it seems. Regardless, you wondered what it would be like to clean it off of him…

Someone cleanse you of these thoughts, this is forbidden grounds.

"Why not?" You ask confusedly, looking at the components inside the cup. Nothing but murky pulp-filled sweet water. Your emotions present on your face, perceived wrongly by the only man there who felt it was your response to being scolded. "It's completely fine to ask that now, don't worry." Meghan shoots him a look, irksome at the use of 'now'. She doesn't have to wonder what he meant, only in dissecting his tone.

"I'm an aerodynamicist. Right now we're working on finding a solution to reduce the consumption of fuel." His voice is a pitch higher, tossing that pretentious tone to his words, forgetting his drink while fully turning to everyone as he excitedly gets into the topic. "The main culprit —or so we think— is the wings… let's say the wings of an aircraft. Their shape to be specific contributes to th—" Before he could finish, Meghan hums interrupting. Her words later followed, "Yeah, yeah, sounds fun. Dinner is ready so it's best we stop the chit-chat if we want something warm to eat."

Both you and Tina turn to her mother, a quick glance full of judgment and some surprise. She's never interrupted any of you when passionately speaking about your interests, this was new. Tina doesn't dare look at Doyoung though, she simply walks back inside with her still full drink in hand. Meghan on the other hand waits for him to stand up and follow her. His shoulders slumped and head low, a reassuring smile thrown your way but his dull eyes say otherwise.

"We're glad to have you girls here." Doyoung utters with a nod, turning to follow his wife. "Welcome." The only thing that leaves Meghan's lips. At the time it sounded like that, a welcoming. Now you realize she was responding to the expected devout gratitude for taking you in all those years ago and even now.

What a way to introduce their relationship to you. What a way to cement the reality of the dynamics between all.

There was a foreign air after that fateful day, something you had never expected when it came to spending time with your best friend and her mother. This was stuffy and suffocating. You chopped it to the different location, you will soon find it's the repressed feelings of everyone in this house and of those that lived before.

Meghan tried her best to not show her unwillingness towards her husband, yet it was evident to all that she held animosity for some odd reason. No amount of smiles and reassuring pats could tell any of you otherwise but they satiated him and no one would interfere with that.

Doyoung was doting and sweet. He immersed in conversations to learn more about his guests and later rewarded them with things mentioned in passing. This was his way of showing his affection. It became paternal in a way that you didn't like and in a way that made Tina uncomfortable but which she could understand. Odd, extremely so, considering he could easily be her brother. If she was to voice her dilemmas, Doyoung would fully understand. Yet like you've told her before: "If you don't speak, God won't hear you."

To you, Doyoung was yet another guy that could have been in your college classes. He made sure to act like it when he finally got comfortable and that resulted in joking and lax conversations about his interests and yours, similar to the first day. Giggles and lingering touches, too close at times for two strangers. This way he felt young and correct again.

The downside came the following day, going back to that paternal and reserved front as if he was the same age as his wife and not what he portrayed with you. Treating you and Tina like kids and that's what you both loathed about his time with Meghan. She only seemed to suck the life out of him when night fell.

Doyoung pandered to her and was at her feet with anything she asked, yet she still patronized him and shut him down when he spoke of his career and parents. Meghan never outright spoke of it but she loathed when he brought up his parents. She hated the house, the basement, the attic, the garden, and the greenhouse. She hated that damn greenhouse more than anything.

You couldn't understand where her feelings stood. She had a family, a complete family. A loving and providing husband, a daughter that would always be there for her, and an established and stable home that was all hers for the time being. What more could she ask for?

Despite Meghan's and Tina's inability to feel at home, you found yourself to fit right in in every groove.

Your bare feet are met with soft dewy kisses from the garden's grass as you sprint inside the house towards Doyoung's study. Leaving a trail of dew on the wooden floorboards. Meghan observes you from the kitchen island, pursed lips and raised glasses as you turn the corner and to the hall where those dark panel mahogany double doors greet you, brightening with every knock.

It takes three rhythmic knocks for him to know it's you. Uttering a 'come in' with a light hum. Instinctively, you smile to yourself, hand turning the now golden door knob. Not feeling the grooves of mosaic crystal and cold copper makes you frown. So does the untouched silver tray of breakfast.

You step over it when making your way inside, closing the door behind you and leaning against the cold wood when he does not turn around. Sunlight peaks through the large glass stained bow windows, his desk perfectly curved to fit into the space. The decor on the windows are your favorite.

The greens and pinks perfectly project onto his skin, making him look diaphanous. The lilies and hummingbird paint a story of near-to-death flowers seeking ailment before they perish and like the knights they are, the hummingbirds come to their aid to bring them back to life. He explained it in the way his father had, revealing his mother to be the hummingbird and his father to be the lilies saved from the misery he was in. That explains the devout love his parents had, manifested all throughout the house and the one Doyoung sought.

He now finds the story to be the other way around with no happily ever after. There's no salvation this time.

When he finally turns, he greets you with a tired smile, shoulders slumped and neck aching. He slept on the chaise lounge. The uncomfortable and awfully warm upholstered leather chaise lounge that's too short for his height. He's been there the entire day after last night's argument with Meghan over her trying to clear out his mother's greenhouse and build a shed for her crafts room. She's not content with the basement and she is not content with him giving you your individual room.

"Found you some critters." You open, his smile widens when you pull out the worn paper bag he gave you to put them in. Walking towards him, he takes it from your hands, nimble fingers gracing your drying ones. "Found these stiff on the tomato pots." You point at the caterpillars. "This butterfly was stuck to the tree trunk. Is it acting or actually dead?" Doyoung lets out a sly hum. "No… it does seem like it's near death, though." taking the butterfly out of the bag.

He looks at it for a moment, noticing the lower wings are damaged but covered by the upper wings. "There… clipped." He gently moves the upper wings with the tweezers. "Rather dramatic if you ask me. She is fine to fly but a little caring should not be bad." He stands from his seat, knees cracking to indicate his lack of movement. He places her in the terrarium, it hops around seeking the flowers you've helped him pick.

It's silent for a moment, he hums a melody while scolding the butterfly as he feeds her sugar water. You sit on his desk chair, swiveling while drumming around the taxidermy scalpels — A few of these have left some scratches on your fingers. He makes sure to lock his items inside his desk drawers, Meghan has explained her disdain and disgust for his hobby and in fear of her digging through and tossing them like she's done with the taxidermy decor, he takes extra precautions.

"Why haven't you eaten?"

Your voice makes him turn, closing the door to the terrarium. He leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a grasp of his jaw. Rubbing it as if he was thinking of an answer. He can't lie to you though, he knows you're able to see through his lies. At least surface level, it's the small things he grants you.

"I don't like omelettes. She knows that." He confesses. "I don't like black tea and that is what's on the tray." Your leg raises, feet now dry but stained with that yellow-green hue. Your cheek rests against your bruised knee while taking in his words. He watches all your actions, biting the inside of his cheek as punishment for looking at your limbs.

"Want me to make you anything?" There's some innocence in your voice that warms his chest. Interlaced with your desire to please. Please, please, please.

He smiles fondly, eyes fluttering, and a warm feeling in his chest.

"Don't coddle me." "Generosity."

He slowly approaches you, rearranging the scalpels you played with. He looks down, analyzing you like you were one of his dissected butterflies. Pretty, soft, and delicate. Doyoung knows it's wrong to think of you this way. He's allowed Meghan to fuck the thoughts away from him but they cling to his brain while they're at it. It's vile and disgusting. The act to be precise.

"Is she still upset about the room?" You look up at him, resting against the backrest. He takes a closer look at your outfit. Denim high rise shorts, white lace short strap top, and red ribbon in your hair that he wrapped around the strands a while ago and you never got rid of. The same one he uses to decorate bigger taxidermy species like the squirrels the neighborhood cat leaves laying on the porch. You want to think it's metaphoric but you sound stupid trying to find a connection despite the words lingering in the tip of your tongue. Fresh and clear on his mind.

"I don't mind taking the attic, it's nice and cozy. Your dad did a good job decorating it." A reassuring smile that he does not accept. "What are you, Harry Potter? It's your room and it's my house." That first day during dinner, Doyoung expressed his gratitude to you for being part of their family. It did not pertain to him, he believed family deserved their own space.

His actions worked to ease and win Tina over even if it was a tad but Meghan felt a stabbing sense in her lower stomach and a scratch in her brain that made a whirling dark orb manifest. It's the same feeling that brews the longer she stands behind those mahogany doors hoping to hear what is said but the whispered mutters and her aged ear drums hand no aid.

Doyoung pulls his footstool, taking a seat before you. His hands trickle down to your foot, picking off the remaining blades that stain his own hands. He looks up at you when he reaches for a wipe, the green stains cling when the fabric graces the arch of your sole.

"It tickles." You state, he hums. Fingers press harder. "Better?" You nod. He looks at you during the ministration, putting your foot down delicately to do the same with the other. You watch his every move and he receives your gaze with a smile when he meets it. "My mom would do this when I would run around the garden. She hated when I left stains on the floors. Said they wouldn't come off but when I would go to sleep she painted over the footprints and re-stain the floor." He smiles fondly, warming up your skin from the cold, damp wipe. His fond touch doing most of the job.

"It sounds like a prank that turned into preservation. Maybe she liked seeing your growth. Meghan marked our growth on the walls of her apartment. I'm sure the landlord has painted over them now."

He hums, taking in the comparison. It's cute, nice and nostalgic but it highlights the passage of time and how mortal things seem around you and the other two. How mortal things around him can be too.

Doyoung is doting and sweet. Soft and gentle, immersing himself in his actions to not hurt the other. You envy Meghan, you're sure of it now.

"You should really put shoes on, I can't keep cleaning your feet." "You have no obligation."

He looks at you the way Mary Magdalene did when washing Jesus' feet. He looks at you like his savior and redeemer, you're not sure why or you haven't been able to fully understand him yet.

He nods, his growing finger nails pinching below your toes. You wince, confusedly looking at him. "The critters will recognize your pattern and their missing friends. Don't cry when you're pinched," He playfully scolds the way his parents used to do; voice lowering upon seeing a shadow come from under the doors. "I won't be able to kiss the pain away." He raises your foot, the action new but comforting to your taste. His eyes don't tear away when his plush lips come in contact with your newly cleaned feet. It's soft, warm, sort of wet but nice enough for you to let your hand reach for where he touches.

This is wrong, plentiful wrong but Adam (Doyoung) will drag you to take a bite of that forbidden fruit if he keeps going.

Something ate away at Meghan the longer she stood behind those thick doors. The same way ants crawled around the food she had made him earlier. That made her aching worse and if she didn't open those doors now, she won't remain sane.

She takes a few breaths in, noise seizing to come through, making things far more unsettling. Decidedly, she pushes through, opening both doors dramatically, taking in the image of her husband and faux daughter. Her eyes waver as her voice wants to do. Impotence and defeat.

Nothing.

"Must you punish me?" She directly questions. Her eyes fleeting to your lax position on his chair, recognizing the ribbon from the decor she threw out and his proximity to you. "You can't knock?" He turns his attention back to his craft, as if he had not been kneeling before you seconds prior. "Rehydration solution, Y/n."

With a syringe, he injects it onto the body of the second butterfly while you wet a paper towel, taking a beaker of solution to the other side of the room. You don't speak, following the steps he's taught you in the process.

"It's my house." Meghan states. "It's my house." Doyoung corrects.

The older woman glares. If looks could kill, the house would be hers once and for all.

"The ants are eating your breakfast." "Oh good, they'll stay away from the peonies."

He smiles to himself, Meghan can't see it but she's sure of it and that irks her more. She turns to your moving figure, handing him a warmer solution to pour in the container and put the critters in. Taking in the interaction, her eye spasms. The green stains on his slacks and your clean feet. She has no proof nor a concrete case but she knows it was nothing decent. Disturbed by the bond, she swallows her huff but not the irking orb that eats away her love for you.

"Y/n, give us some alone time." She bites, her words laced with the venom of the centipede he's wrapping around stiff caterpillars. "We're not done with this." He tuts. Meghan, appalled by his opposition, allows her jaw to slack. Her emotions are rampant and fiery that he would contradict her. That he found it in himself to not slouch his shoulders and go along with her decisions.

Your gaze flits between them, their glaring not seizing. The tension is palpable, leading you to fumble the cloth holding onto the piping hot beaker. You know how hot glass can be but when you're the magnetic pull that's causing this, it's something you don't focus on.

Your shriek forces them to break their combat, that motherly look Meghan often had returns when she sees your irritated hand and the way you fall back onto his chair the moment the scalding solution splashes over your bare feet.

They rush towards you, watching their step over the broken pieces of glass. While Meghan attempts to question if you're okay, Doyoung is already in the process of rubbing Silvadene over the light burn of your palm. She watches in amazement how delicate he is. His fingers grace over the skin, if it wasn't stinging you'd repeat that it tickles. And if his wife wasn't here, he'd replicate the image of soothing your aching feet with kisses.

With every passing second, Meghan feels that obscure orb grow and grow. Her motherly instinct is consumed by it, disgusted queries plaguing her heart and soul seeing him sit on the foot stool and place your feet over his lap. This is how the stains on his slacks came to be. His nimble digits rubbing the ointment on noticeable ailments and on spots you pointed at with minute pained whimper that she'll take as pleasure.

This isn't right. Meghan no longer feels like a mother to you. And this is only one of many instances her feelings are reassured.

Doyoung didn’t want to argue any longer in the dark depths of his cold bedroom. It was amazing how quickly his marriage was falling apart in the span of a few weeks when the two shared a beautiful —so he’s forcing himself to think— relationship. Now all he can do is whisper his grievances to his wife who finds it disrespectful that he’s rebutting her own arguments due to his age.

Meghan will never say it out loud but she respects Doyoung less and expects him to treat her like his superior for said gap, forgetting they were in a relationship and should both treat each other accordingly and not like mother-son; disgustingly.

Said argument is what led a tired Doyoung to sigh heavily on his way out of the bedroom in hopes of relaxation by either watching something in the media room or basking in the night’s breeze while sitting on the porch swing with a glass of whiskey on the rocks or an ice cold beer.

The latter makes him smile fondly.

Decidedly, Doyoung pads towards the kitchen, his bare feet absorbing the coldness of the wooden floors, ignoring his scolding after you burnt your feet. The closer he got to the large room, the sound of his padding mellowed out compared to the rummaging of items. For a second he feared they'd gotten an infestation of mice. It would not be the first time the house had any.

His inquiries were disposed of once reaching the kitchen when he saw such a pretty image that made him relax. And similar to the mice he once fended against years ago with his father, you sat in front of the fridge, feasting, with a bottle of whipped cream at hand. Allowing the sweet dairy to fall upon a strawberry that you indelicately shoved into your mouth without a care that its juice spilled from the corner of your lips and the dairy followed behind, creating a light pink ribbon to decorate your pretty lips the way those glosses you often smear do.

It oddly reminds him of the first day you two met. He looks at you the same way you looked at him. Lingering and foreign attraction, although it's not so foreign now.

It's not right, but you're closer and closer to taking a bite out of that apple.

You don't bother cleaning the cream off, continuing to push the berries into your mouth. One after another as your stomach yearns for more. You could’ve continued, although halt at his endeared chuckle. You're startled, feeling a cold sweat wash through your entire body. If there was one thing you hated was people catching you eating late at night. More so when you're filling your aching body with self targeted disgust and sweets. Like a child, the one he treats you as when the other two are near but forgotten about when it's just you two.

This is what holds you back, the apple seems so rotten and further at times.

Doyoung doesn't speak, walking towards you with a napkin in hand, taken on his way. He crouches down to your level, making you break out of that frozen state. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, eyes following his, seeking any reaction. “For what?” He questions sweetly, hand cupping your jaw softly. Shooting you a quick glance and smile before continuing his ministration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come down to eat in secrecy.” You swallow hard, a lump formed in your throat with his touch, unaware of when. “I know she doesn't like it but usually she comes up to tell me dinner was ready and…” You shrug, meek voice making his chest compress, he senses unwarranted guilt. As if it was your fault his wife kept using food as punishment.

Meghan had told him you were asleep, not that she didn't let you know dinner was ready and that disquiets him. His eyebrows furrow, other hand reaches your face, softly wiping the strawberry juice with his thumb. Licking it beforehand. Doyoung is closer and closer with every passing day. Just last night his touch lingered in between your thigh and knee, you imagine he'll reward you and slip his fingers between your lips soon. Whichever ones and you won't be opposed to it like prior times.

Doyoung gives you a semi-scolding look, “I've told you before. It's my house, you can eat whenever and whatever you want, Y/n." He pats your cheek, pecking it for reassurance. The action startles you every time. They never feel soft and innocent. Always intentional but when he pulls back and gives you a reassuring smile, it forces you to ponder how much you want his generosity to be more than that? It's wrong, you're aware of it, always will be.

His touch lingers a little longer, fleeting stares from your own eyes to lips as his pads waltz across your skin until he finally finds it in himself to let go. “Still hungry?” He asks, helping you up. Ready to deny, your stomach rumbles loudly, giving you no time to privy it of its rights for yet another day. Doyoung simply nods with a smile, cocking his head to the entrance.

“Put your shoes on, let's see what's open at this hour.” “It’s very late to eat a big meal, Mr.Kim…”

The smile on his lips attempts not to falter at what you call him. Doyoung hated it with his entire soul. You weren't going to seize as long as he didn't seize treating you like Tina, like you're his stepdaughter too. Although, in this instant it's punishment for making you feel so ill and needy.

You want more, you crave more, but you can't have more.

It's odd to you how both can easily bask in the delicacy of tense intimacy and this… disgusting forced idea of a familial relationship at times. Especially when they would intertwine like it is now. You hate him for it sometimes. 'Coward' is what bounces in your head often when his touch lingers just to treat you like he treats Tina when his sick brain tells him to.

Regardless, Doyoung doesn't get to respond or scold, his bedroom door slams and Meghan has reached the kitchen watching as he crouches over you. She sees the dirtied napkin and your red lips. She sees his hand ghosting over your cheek and the (bitter) smile he had falters when his eyes land on her. While with you it was full of fondness and amusement (she believes), disgust greets her. She's been aware of it for a while now.

"Y/n go to your room." She demands lowly, her hands clinging to her sleeping pants. "No." Doyoung interferes, and like that day in his study, Meghan glares at him, offended by his insistence on speaking back to her like a child disrespecting their elders. "Go to sleep." She grits out, turning to you. You stand up, keeping a distance from Doyoung who immediately speaks. "Go put your shoes on, let's go get you something to eat."

Meghan's lips fall ajar. A scoff and slight cackle hearing his words and the soft look he shoots you. "Are you fucking serious right now?" She asks infuriated, walking closer and slapping his hand off of your arm which aided in stabilizing you when getting up.

"She's hungry, Meghan." Doyoung spits back, disgust building in his gaze. His wife shoots him a response with hers, almost saying "That's not my concern." but the words don't leave her for she knows it will push things further. It's futile, Doyoung scowls and his head slowly shakes the longer he looks at her. There it is, that disgust once again and it eats away at her.

"You told me she was asleep. I didn't take you for someone gluttonous." Meghan could only describe the brewing feeling as embarrassment and pure seething rage. Who did Doyoung think he was to confront her like this? Implication full of disgust and hitting her where he knew it hurt. More so in front of the one causing all the problems. With your faux naivety and innocent looks. With that cunning smile you shoot her when around him. Meghan knows what you are, she knows what men like and she's experiencing it before her eyes. Men are weak.

If you were to peak inside her head and heart, that obscure growing orb was nothing but rotting tar.

"Don't be insolent. Don't bring that up in front of her!" She spits out, "Y/n go to your room!" Disturbed by being undermined by two people she deemed lesser than her. Doyoung attempts to stop you again, his grip a bit harsher than before. You look at where his hand is. This is familiar, revoltingly so. You feel like a child in the middle of their parents' argument. Getting pulled left and right until they tear you apart stitch by stitch. It's painful in all senses and when Meghan opens her mouth to yell at her husband, you screw your eyes, shaking your head and freeing yourself from his grasp.

"I'll go. I'll go… I'll go. Please." You repeat like a mantra, hoping your words will make it all end. The latter begging them to not include you, to leave you alone and forget that your existence is brewing something between them.

You always wonder how Tina is able to sleep through this and not wake up from their screaming. They no longer attempt to hide the potency of their vocal chords nor their words. You know they talk about you when the muffled voices take over or when Doyoung tells her to lower her voice while she laughs maliciously about how much of a vile, disgusting, and infelicitous asshole he is. Otherwise, you know their problems stem from their joint resentment about the power dynamics.

When two people want the same thing at the same time, things are bound to burn over.

Doyoung didn't take long to walk out after she called him those names again. Throwing in his face that he's a pretentious brat with nothing worth fighting for. Meghan has found going against his upbringing to be successful in debilitating him. The only downside is that he loathes her more and more and respects her as much as she does him. Very little to null.

Sleep fleets away. Fear floods you with the idea that Meghan was capable of barging into your room any second now and reproach you for ruining her marriage. She doesn't tell you directly and neither do the other two in the house but her demeanor change is more than clear. Her warm smiles are officially gone, cold and resentful glares replace them. And she no longer cares that they call her out for ignoring you.

Her hugs are foreign to you and her food no longer is edible. That love she once poured into her meals is gone with her motherly instincts. It aches, horribly so. You've known her and Tina since you began your academic career. When your parents couldn't pick you up or take you to school, Meghan was there. Summers were spent with them like this one with the exception that they were the happiest memories.

You have Tina, you know that. She's your sister. Although, you would prefer to not see her argue with her mother about you or see them give each other the cold shoulder after. You don't want her relationship with her mother to worsen, that's the last thing you want but you can't control what people feel. You're aware of that, Meghan isn't.

It's 1:00AM when sleep finally comes back to you and you feel safe enough. The comforter brings you the warmth you're lacking but isn't able to fill your chest. Soft lamentable sighs have left your lips all night over how horrid this summer has turned.

A part of you blames Doyoung. His addition has ruined the balance the three of you had. His cowardice of accepting Meghan's punches and seeking her motherly care during those years blinded him of the bigger picture — it's quite obvious now, confirmation is all you needed.

The other part of you accepts that Meghan is a decrepit insecure woman who seeks power and control of anyone that isn't her and that fills you with both anger and hurt, feeling no immense remorse for threading around Doyoung the way you do. You're allowed to indulge yourself from time to time.

Meghan wants puppets, not family.

Immersed in your pity and vexation, you don't notice when your bedroom window opens. The latch closing is what makes you turn around startled. A dark figure creeping through the shadows, tall and slim. Fright replaces the sleep you felt, manifested in an attempt to scream until your mouth is hastily covered with warm clammy hands that you instantly recognize by the bony nimble fingers. Doyoung.

A finger to his lips, shushes you, he sits on the corner of your bed. You swallow, your head spinning and light front the freight he just caused you. When you relax, you shake your head with a silent laugh. "You scared me," 'Asshole' silently balanced on your tongue. "For a second you made me believe Nosferatu was real." You joke, "But that would mean an old hag has been haunting me for ages, and I just met you." He pats your cheek almost condescendingly without saying sorry but meaning it. At least you think he's sorry.

"Here." He smiles — the most he does to entertain you—, handing you a bag you hadn't noticed earlier. That may explain the sweet smell of warm blueberries waltzing through the room to sedate you and make you more receptive to what he offers. "You didn't have to." You protest, he meets it with a shake of his head and raises a hand letting you know to just be quiet and take it. He does it with a smile on his face and it irritates you but it's also very beautiful that you oblige. "Thank you." You croon, a smile involuntarily creeping on your face. He responds to your words with a caress of your cheek.

"I've told you to not call me Mr. Kim before, haven't I?" His words slow down your movement, smile faltering. "Is that not your name?" You quip, giving him a quick glance while cutting the waffle into squares. It's warm and soft, as he is. Unfortunately if it's left in the open for too long, it will harden and rot. As he will.

There's some tenderness in his gaze, muddled with the same irascibility Meghan looks at him with when he talks back to subvert her. It makes your eyebrows furrow while you slowly chew, it's an odd feeling. Unfortunately for you, he's smart enough to read a person and divert the conversation. It so happens to be that he doesn't do it with Meghan anymore because he enjoys seeing her peeved and red.

He's become so cynical. The things marriage does to you.

"Regardless, please don't call me that, you make me feel old." "You are old." Your teasing makes him gasp, jaw slack with semi-offense before ruffling your hair, destroying the braid. You laugh at his actions, successfully forgetting his earlier look.

"I'm only five years older than you!" He whisper-yells, offense still imprinted onto his being. "Then don't treat me like you're much older." Spoken in between laughs, your words do settle in his mind. Doyoung knows this happens often, it disgusts him but at the same time it keeps him morally sane.

Yes, he touches you more than he should. But he balances it out by indulging your childish attributes that make you act bubbly and younger around him.

Yes, he looks at you with rapidly growing attraction and lust. But he balances it by teaching you step by step on how to maintain perfectly taxidermied insects the way paternal figures do.

He understands and feels that underlying disgust. It's self-punishment for thinking about you when he is married despite loathing the woman. His attraction to you is punishment for that alone.

He should still remain a good man. He is a good man.

Until he learns to enjoy the power trip. He can somewhat understand his wife for that.

Coward.

His smile begins to lose its intensity, nodding while getting comfortable on your bed. He's receptive when you feed him squares here and there, making sure to look directly in your eyes when he takes them into his mouth. Lips wrapping around the black plastic fork and lapping at the syrup hiding between the backside grooves just to watch you immediately replicate his actions. It's a soothing dance, ego indulgent to know you take what he gives.

"Listen," You feed him again. "I'm sorry for earlier." He covers his mouth, "For continuing to put you in those situations, truly sorry." His hand goes up to his chest, his wedding band is gone, causing a warm feeling to brew in your stomach, manifested as an involuntary smile on your lips.

You shrug, nonchalantly as if it didn't matter when you knew it did. "Not my first rodeo." You mutter, feeding him the last bit before placing the tray on the nightstand. He looks at you, taking in your reactions and the stuck sigh that you finally release when he doesn't prod.

You never spoke of your own family. It was always Meghan and Tina this, Meghan and Tina that. At the beginning he wondered if they would be preoccupied knowing you were here, meeting a stranger despite being in safe hands. Yet after a month he noticed the conflicting projected emotions on your face when he spoke about his parents and how loving to each other they've always been. He could tell admiration and resentment were bigger emotions you carried. Now it does not surprise him that you're saying this. More so, it's confirmation.

"How did you even meet her, by the way? I just can't think of a scenario where you'd meet a woman like Meghan."

Curiosity and petulance lace your voice. He smiles to himself, taking your hand into his, reassured he was taking the right steps when you reluctantly relax against his touch. "My mom grew up in a house with four brothers. She always felt the need to prove she was as important as them. You know, rough housing, sports, academics, that sort of thing." He shrugs, "Futile because my grandparents loved and supported her no matter what she did. There truly was no difference in their treatment of the five — very progressive, they were. Kind of holistic— she simply made that rivalry up in her head."

You'd ask what any of this had to do with your question, but Doyoung likes to speak, he likes to speak about his parents. Even if it was a simple redaction.

"So she spent her entire life doing things that would put her far away from those related to housewives. Never learned how to cook, clean, gardening was her only token but that's because she was a botanist. My dad did everything else." He laughs, fond memories of seeing his dad in frilly aprons and pink mittens. He chose them, all the decor was his pick. Doyoung only ever lets you use them when you're in the kitchen.

"This was ten years ago, I was visiting them from college for the summer when I found she had created a crafts room out of this room." His free hand points around the walls of your room, wallpaper in a quilt design explaining it all. "She said she was too old to not know basic things like mending a hole in dad's socks or helping him with dinner. That he was getting old and weak too, it was a job for two to get anything out of the oven."

He hums, gaze on your interlocked hands. "So I drove her daily to these classes at the community center. That's when I first met Meghan, she was there to teach the classes. Nothing went past pleasantries and my mom joking about how I'd look good with Tina."

Selfish you are for letting vile manifest and spread through your chest when hearing those words. Tina… Tina couldn't handle Doyoung. They can't even stand to be in a room together without it being awkward. So selfish of you to make this about yourself, squeezing his hand scolding. He takes it with humor, feigning not noticing for the sake of his ego.

"Of course my mom didn't know Tina's age, when she realized how much younger she was, she stopped the jokes. They became somewhat friends, never seeing each other outside the community center to my knowledge. I didn't see Meghan for years after that but three years ago when my mom's Alzheimer's worsened and she had forgotten the difference between toxic versus non toxic liquids, she ended up poisoning herself by drinking insecticide. Later we found cleaning supplies with her lipstick on the mouth. It's at the funeral that I saw Meghan again and she was there for my dad and I…"

You didn't imagine this would take that turn. He always spoke so fondly of his parents like they were still around somewhere. Never said where but still around. You now realize it's their lingering presence around everything here.

"I'm sorry, Doyoung…" He dismisses you, shaking his head and kissing your hand. He's trying to control his labored breathing, warm and harsh against your skin, his hand clammy.

"Dad felt so guilty for it all. He taught about the development of the human brain, did neuroscience studies for the university and certain labs here and there all his life and he couldn't save his own wife. So… he left me too. He left for a study, who knows where and I haven't heard from him since." He smiles, a sort of bitterness that he didn't want to have for his father. Reluctance to accept that it was perhaps more than a trip. "Lawyers came days after he left, everything left to my name on both their ends. Meghan had been the only one to check in on me besides extended family but they live far away, there's not much they could do."

Guilt floods you. Why couldn't you just push back that desire to belittle Meghan more in your mind. The worst part is that your brain won't stop telling you that she only took advantage of his vulnerability. Sweet, vulnerable Doyoung who lost his parents in a span of weeks left to rot on his own with a huge house, assets, and a desire to give and give to anyone willing to comfort him. Convenient.

Doyoung hums, sitting up. The silence helps him admire you, or simply distract himself from this gushing open wound. The braid he destroyed, cascading over your shoulder. Shoulder covered in a thick light yellow lace strap with matching ribbons on the chest. He smiles noticing the small details, he recalls helping you sneak into Meghan's craft room to make that night gown. Fabric and ribbon he took from his mother's stash.

She would like you, he believes so.

"You've made good use of the marigold dye." Doyoung smiles, his hand reaching to touch the strap. His fingers dance over it, letting them touch your skin. It's cruel and mean but very elating. He's been playing this teasing game and unfortunately, it's you who wants it more. From then on, they inch closer to the ribbon. Fingers jumping on every spot and ending on the bow, delicately admiring it.

Truth be told he kept his touch there to feel the increase of your respiration. Chest moving up and down faster than previously. He smiles to himself, almost mischievously when he notices a new item around your neck. "The roses too… my mother would have been so content with you." He giggles, patting your cheek prior to giving himself the liberty to touch the rose beads that form a necklace.

She would like you, he's sure of it.

"Very ingenious, so good." Doyoung hums, his hand trails to hold your neck. You nod slowly, entranced in your humiliating arousal from just his touch. You feel pubescent, frothing at the mouth from one touch. Stupid. He's just another man… a man that coddles and holds you in secrecy. It's the forbidden excitement laced with guilt at how treacherous the human mind and body can be.

Clearing your throat, you look around, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, well, she has a lovely and fruitful garden… Greenhouse too, I found some purple cabbages from the spring season, they'd make a lovely dye." You divert but his touch doesn't fall, his other hand opts to join on your cheek, cradling it.

Instinctively you lean into it, forcing you to look at him. There's no teasing or patronizing looks on his end and you're thankful for it. It's full blown admiration and desire in those dark orbs that pull you closer to him while he caresses you. They allow themselves to rake your face. Every feature but most of all your lips and eyes, longing to land on your pupils as to bless whatever you see. On your forehead to reassure that he is your safe haven as you are becoming his. It oddly reminds you of the looks he gave when cleaning your feet before the accident. Like Mary Magdalene admiring her savior.

Doyoung thinks he is allowed this indulgence for once. He can punish himself after but he can no longer go without tasting your skin on his lips, he feels so famished. Letting out a shaky breath, he softly rises, bringing your head closer to him. Breath labored with every move and warm against your skin when he's mere centimeters from it. Shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, letting them fall on your eyelids.

Velvet and moist, that's how his lips feel. You sigh in relief, unaware you had been holding your breath. His lip travels to the other eyelid, it's quick unlike prior, for he rushes to kiss your forehead, lingering for as long as he can before letting out a content sigh of his own, and a liberated smile. He wants to laugh at how absurd he is being but that would only keep wasting time.

Doyoung is so close to your lips when he decides it is best to take the full risk, however you both hear the soft knocks against your door and the rattling of the doorknob. He can't describe the feeling as freight, more so irreverent wrath.

"Y/n? Y/n why is the door locked?"

Tina.

The man instantly pulls away. His touch burns you both and guilt manifests itself through blown out pupils — your own, not his. Your lips are ajar when he places his finger up to his own, like the way he entered your room and disappears the same way. He says nothing and neither do you, opening the door when he's not in view.

The doorknob continues to rattle until she feels the weight of your hand on it. You sigh heavily before opening the door, looking at her blankly which she notices but does not mention. She never does.

"I heard voices." "I'm watching a movie."

She hums. She believes you. She believes you. She does…

"Why was the door locked?" She asks, concern on her face. When your eyes divert from hers, she can tell something had gone on. You usually enjoy having her know everything about you. That's what best friends do, yet at the moment you loathe her for it. That's what sisters do. That gnawing disturbance of frustration and impotency. The type she's felt this entire summer break.

You simply hum, she giggles.

"How bad was it now?" She now finds humor in knowing she always sleeps through their arguments. It's not so funny to you. "Nothing special, I was in the kitchen when he stormed out then she followed behind and they went at it after I left." She giggles once more. Unsure now if it's because she actually finds it comedic or she doesn't know how to respond.

This is her mother and her happiness they're talking about. This is you, her best friend and your friendship on the line.

It’s not like you can tell her that her stepfather defending you from her mom for the millionth time isn’t pushing her into deeper hatred. It’s not like you can tell her that her mother purposely starved you for the day out of pure unadulterated jealousy because her husband desires you more than her. No, can you? No. Silence and lies will do.

"Hey, did you know how Meghan and Doyoung met?" You ask, looking at where had laid. Tina shrugs, "She told me they saw each other at a coffee shop from time to time and talked since then. She doesn't like coffee though." She shrugs again.

Oh Tina. Willfully ignorant and avoidant. Perhaps the story is right but you're sure that if Tina fully knew her mother had met doyoung ten years younger with baby fat still on his cheeks and younger than she is, her dilemma would only worsen. Coward.

Unlike Tina, Meghan didn't hesitate in barging in after a few minutes. It leaves you and her daughter dumbfounded when the angry look becomes bewildered and disappointed, like she had expected to find something (or someone) to prove her suspicions.

"Mom?"

Meghan acknowledges it with a sigh, "Go to sleep, it's late." Making you both feel ten again at one of multiple sleepovers during school nights. Tina responds with a nod. You, you look at her for any trace of something. There's worry, that's for sure. And there's also anger. Nothing new.

The front door is slammed downstairs, causing Tina to get a startled look on her face that is reassured when Meghan shakes her head, dismissively. She opens her mouth to calm her daughter when a disgusting thought tells you to do the talking for her. She deserves even this bit.

"It's Doyoung, don't worry."

And it's disturbing to Meghan that you spoke her thoughts, word for word while looking at her.

Meghan has gotten her confirmation for the night.

That night had given some clarity to Doyoung. Arguments with his wife seized for the most part and before they could begin, he was out the door for his nightly runs. That's what she believed at least. He tampered with his smartwatch to mark his steps knowing she would look through it.

Reality is that he crept up the trellis to your room. Spending the nights under the covers with earphones in, door locked, lights off, and a movie lulling you to sleep while getting a few whispered conversations in here and there. His lips or yours pressed against each other's ear. It was the closest to kissing you would get at.

When you do fall asleep, he tucks you in. Caresses your hair and kisses your forehead goodnight before crawling back down the trellis and entering through the front door. To continue his reality of being married to a woman that no longer treats him with the care he sought but at least he can provide it for you and that you've slowly been returning.

Doyoung has taken that into account and rewards you for it. The gifts were small at first, snacks that Meghan wouldn't allow into the house, books in your wish list. They later became more intricate. Your personal taxidermy and diaphonization kits (locked in his study), pendants of the critters utilized, a camera to document your process, and the most recent being two chickens and doves.

The animals irked his wife more than anything. She has spent the past two months arguing about tearing down the greenhouse and it only took you a mention of the excess of caterpillars and worms in there for him to bring in the chickens. You looked after them, sure, however the chickens with free range left their eggs and droppings everywhere. It felt intentional how she found them laying on her clean laundry, pecked her if they saw her, and worse off stained all of her fabric. They abhor her as much as she does them.

At least the bleeding-heart doves are lovely to look at despite their cold shoulder towards her. Tina gets a ruffle of feathers, you and Doyoung some crooning, and spooning among each other when it's you and him peering upon them. It's the small things that drive her deeper into her madness.

Like seeing you sit criss-crossed on the plush bright grass. It's dewy again, much taller now than it was before but he promised to mow soon. Right now he's too busy hammering in old nails onto stained wood and footprints —yours and his— to create a coup for the chickens. Not by her demand, no. He'd never take hers seriously, but yours.

"Diaphonized insects are horrid. They're all brown. I think I should give wet species a chance." Doyoung takes your words in, a simple chuckle looking at your pout. Petulant and spoiled. "Y/n, you're not drying them fast enough." He corrects, you shrug knowing he may be right but working with insects has bored you. "Either way, centipedes and spiders look disgusting in those vials."

The chickens flock around you, pecking the ground. Their clucking became louder, frustrated the longer they weren't able to obtain what they wanted. Doyoung gives them a quick glance, a fastidious kind of melody, one he isn't used to. Neither are you according to the stink eye you give them. It's pleasant to Meghan, leaning against the sink with peering bright eyes, it feels like justice for once.

It's a delicacy. Your desperate attempts to calm them down, Doyoung's hammering exasperating the chickens, and finally… A loud and pained screech from you, pushing away the hen that victoriously clucks as it swallows the culprit of your scream. One of the neighbor's centipedes.

Doyoung drops his tools, rushing to your aid. He watches you tumble, attempting to stand, however the aching sting and burn on your foot doesn't allow it. Meghan watches every movement from you both. Your disgruntled whines and moans, his shushes in an attempt to calm you down. Hands clasping around your feet, soothing the inflamed bump in hopes it did something. It didn't, it irritated the wound further.

"I told you the critters would recognize your feet." He jokes, scolding in the process. The stinging is intense enough that waspishly, you huff, pouting his way. "Nuh-uh." You reply, rolling your eyes when he throws in a glare. He shakes his head, finally sitting, his knees aching. Like the day you burnt your feet, he takes your feet in his lap, looking over the wound while your soles leave stains again.

He smiles to himself, an airy laugh as if he was coming up with something, fingers waltzing over the bite. "I told you to put shoes on, I won't always be here to help you." Smile turns into a grin, teasing as he lets his lips fall over the wound.

It stings. The warmth of his own flesh against the boiling fire of yours, it's not pleasant and you make it known. With the exception that it comes out strangled and pleasured. Much to his delight, making his lips part, tongue gracing the area just to add more pain and more pretty sounds to leave you.

It's an erotic image to anyone who experiences and sees it. Meghan feels the boiling pain in her chest, the same way you do on your foot. The only difference is that Doyoung won't attempt to soothe hers. He won't even acknowledge it.

Doyoung is looking up at you with a curling smile, lips pulling apart from your skin, eyes raking the expanse of your exposed thigh when the dress rode up. " Met with a harsh pull, Meghan reaches both of you, hands on Doyoung who stumbles to stand up. It's hard to decipher what her expressions read, all emotions coursing through like a bad acid trip, colors roaming around in a slew.

Anger, disgust, pain, defeat, resentment. It made no difference, it was all negative.

"How do you plan on defending this now, huh?" She asks, wavering voice when she looks between you two. "What could you possibly say to make this look normal, Doyoung?!" Her voice rose, startling Tina who had been in the entertainment room when she heard your scream. Like usual, she opts to remain where she's at. It's no use involving herself when she's known how this would all end since the beginning.

"Sucking the venom out, Meghan. Fuck me, why do you have to make everything so salacious?" Doyoung grits, a tone she had not fallen for years ago.

His speech and tone has changed within these months. He no longer spoke like a poised character, he spoke like you. He smelt like you and his quirks adapted to yours. Doyoung was no longer Meghan's and that's a fact she's finding difficult to deal with. Similar to how parents aren't able to understand the autonomy of a child as they grow.

Frustratingly so, his response made sense to her. She's seen it in movies, she's read about it — so she thinks. Unfortunately for her, this was only a sting, like a mosquito or a bee sting, something that will subside with ointment just like your burns weeks prior. There was nothing to suck out nor was it recommended.

"How convenient." She scoffs. Meghan hated how upset she was. She knew this was bound to happen and why she kept her relationship hidden from you for the past two years.

Meghan knew your interests, knew your beliefs, and knew you her entire life. She knew how drawn everyone instantly is to you and woefully, she knew Doyoung would be one of those people too. She was proven right the first day when she saw him approach you on that swing and converse so easily. Touch you so easily…

It never got better as the days went by. Why was it so easy for him to cave and give you a room? A room meant for her hobbies. A room meant for hobbies, as his mother had wanted. Why did he allow you into his study without hesitance when she could only remain for five minutes or so? Why did he have to please you by offering dinner? It's been a while since he's taken her out to dinner. Yes, it was wrong of her to privy you of basic needs but earlier in the day she had seen you so content in that stupid greenhouse and understood fully why he kept refusing to tear it down besides grief. You kept it alive just like his mother did.

Her jealousy doesn't outweigh her disdain for being undermined. Like a person working night and day, loyal to one job for years on end and aging throughout them to be replaced like nothing by a new set of fresh meat. A kick to the rear and a big "Fuck you, you're no longer useful and too old for us to care about your opinion." That's how her relationship with Doyoung felt when he met you.

When they started dating, Doyoung sought her sweet reassuring words and pet names. Her gentle touches and pats when he did a good job. Her comforting food and the affection she gave Tina. It was pleasant, she knew what he wanted all along and she was more than willing to give it to him as long as he reciprocated her own desires. Surrendering control and devotion.

Those things no longer belonged to her. His devotion shifted to you —she's witnessed it on multiple accounts— and control is his again. That's one way of looking at things. He moves her and Tina into his home, doesn't let her make any changes and instead rubs it in her face that you adore the house and its quirks. His house and his quirks.

If everything reminded her already of his parents, it now reminds her of you too and how much more power ghosts and a child have rather than her.

Meghan scoffs and huffs every now and then while rebutting his arguments. He mimics them to show her how absurd she is being. It's a never ending cycle they've grown comfortable with but that needs to stop. This isn't what either signed up for when they legally bound their love. If you can even call it that, it's more than clear both were pitifully lonely and disturbed.

"Are you even hearing yourself, seriously?" Doyoung sighs, offended at the implications she kept throwing at him. His thoughts may be vile and depraved when it comes to you but he's punished himself enough. Meghan doesn't seem to understand that while he now recognizes he never did love her, rather sought the affection of a mother, he was bound to honor those vows.

But he was only a man and men are weak.

Meghan has double the years of experience he does and she knows that if you ever stop seeing her with those same eyes Doyoung once saw her with and which Tina is bound to by the universe's request, and gave him free reign, he'd take the opportunity without a thought.

"No, are you hearing yourself? Better yet, do you see what you do?!" She glares, "You enable her to do whatever she wants. Parade around my home as if it was hers. Make a mess of the floorboards, lock herself with you in that stupid study, for what? Your disgusting bugs? Really, Doyoung it's odd how much time you two spend together, you don't even spend that time with your own stepdaughter, neither of you have spent time with Tina. She’s supposed to be Tina’s best friend."

Doyoung felt his frontal lobe develop for the second time in his life. Stepdaughter… Fuck, he was only thirty with a twenty-five year old stepdaughter. Does anyone see how disturbing and odd this fucking is? No, he definitely cannot stay in this for much longer.

"And you know what? Jesus, you're acting like a fucking brat yourself." She scoffs. "The longer you spend with her, the more immature you become. Genuinely, what use was it for your parents to give if you're going to act like a child." She shrugs.

"Don't even bring my parents into this, fuck off." Doyoung disturbed glares at her. "Don't fucking do that. It only seems that way because you hate when anyone is better than you. Smarter and secure than you, get a grip, Meghan. Don’t forget that I’m closer to her age than yours. I’m allowed to be childish, remember that… Don't fucking bring them up ever again."

He was right but that's exactly what she hated most.

"Honestly Meghan," Dumbfounded, Doyoung sighs, hands rubbing upon his face exhausted. "You've known Y/n longer than me. If you don't plan on trusting me, at least trust her. What kind of mother are you if you can't offer her that?"

His tone quickly twisted into condescension, the sheer feeling of being talked down upon by someone who knows nothing about life irking her furthermore and the slight consideration that gnawed at the back of her head was ultimately consumed by that twisted rotten tar in her soul.

"Well she isn't my daughter is she?" Meghan spews without thinking. "She's not my fucking daughter. Not by blood, not metaphorically, nor by law. Tina is my daughter and you know what my daughter doesn't do? Throw herself at my shithead of a husband like any other hussy does!" Her hands meet with his shoulders multiple times, abrasive like every word. No regard that those words were loud and clear for you who remained on the grass and Tina in the entertainment room with the TV on full blast. No longer able to hide and ignore like she's done all along.

Doyoung doesn't mind the contact or the harsh words towards him. What he does mind is her rejection of motherhood. Yes, she's correct to an extent, however how harsh must one be to deny the impact their motherly doting has left on a young and impressionable child? He has fairly understood your restraint and guilt after each encounter is interlaced with your respect towards Meghan and now all he can think about is how that shattering reality will affect you.

Will affect him…

It's disgust and resentment that meets Meghan— she takes it with pride. It's empathy that meets you when he turns to face you. Seeing the instant heartache aflame in your eyes and through the cracks of your chest.

Pity is what you take it as. Disturbed by such, you stand up, the walk of shame towards that stupid greenhouse his wife detests so much. A soft shut is what makes him turn back to Meghan, disdain so palpable that Tina can feel it as she peers through the window. Relenting to the reality she's been trying to avoid these months. It's odd to be a background character in something that affects her directly. She knows there's more to come and when it's done, she'll have two options, only one right answer.

Her mother or her best friend… her sister.

Their words are muffled on the further end of the greenhouse. You imagine this is what Tina would hardly hear in her slumber and it was nice to an extent. You've always admired her discipline. You can't say you admire it now, many of those arguments could have been prevented if she spoke up about her discomfort towards her mother dating a man near her age, a man that sought the affection she was given. A grieving man.

Tina was disciplined but she was also a coward just the way Meghan wanted her to be. The way Meghan wanted all of you to be. Fearing yet adoring her. Devout like a disciple to their God.

Meghan was nowhere near a God. She was closer to a pathetic haggard with no accomplishments in life besides her daughter's, living vicariously through her. She attempted to do the same with Doyoung and it may have worked for a while. She soon realized that she couldn't do such a thing with someone that's always had more opportunities than she's had.

Doyoung had two loving parents his entire life. Just like you.

Regrettably, they weren't able to be near him as much as he would have liked them to be due to their career. Just like you.

However, they provided no matter what — even in the after life — and it showed throughout the house and the love he still holds for them. Their presence is felt in the grooves of doorknobs she replaces, the carvings on the wooden doors she plans on modernizing, the stained windows she'll break, the chips on the kitchen island she will fix, the garden with horrid flamboyant flowers that are eaten away by pests, and that ghastly greenhouse with plants that pretentiously have to mean something.

There's no grasp of control in a house that is meant to exude security, love, and reassurance. No grasp if she's not the one to plant that seed.

Fortunately for you, the house welcomed you in and now you don't care how much you rub it in her face. This was meant for you and if she thought of you as the complete opposite of what she's groomed you into, you'll let the entire world know that Doyoung and everything she wanted to obtain is yours by prophecy.

"How's your foot?" The soft voice that greets you nightly approaches you, his warm fingers taking your shoulder, spinning you around and forcing the pen in your hand to drop. The solemn look on your face and the exaggerated pout makes him sigh, your shrug forcing his touch away. "Better."

Doyoung nods as a response, approaching and taking you in a tight embrace to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that Meghan was nothing but bitter and defeated.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers against your hair, leaving kisses here and there. Your sigh, tightening his embrace. "It's not you who said it." You expel, burying your head in his chest the way your doves do. He kisses your head again, reward for such a sweet action.

"But it's my fault she did." "It doesn't matter now."

Doyoung peels away as much as he can without breaking the embrace. His eyes search yours for a hint of sadness, however all he can see is fiery anger and vindictiveness.

His hand takes your cheek, both warm and soft. "It does..." He hums, "You know it does." Eyebrows furrowed, concerned with how easily you've given it up. He knew you'd be upset but relent is not what he expected. No, he does not like this.

You pout, grip on his torso tightening to leave the feeling of your touch lingering for as long as it could. "It'll pass."

Doyoung truly didn't know how to fix this on his own, it's not his duty to do so either. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to see you upset over the words of someone so vile who did not deserve any strong emotion conveyed. Prior times he was able to pacify you with his gifts or embraces, nowadays it's been a bit harder.

"Will it?" "It has to. I'll have time to mourn later."

Mourn.

Doyoung thinks about the last time he allowed himself to mourn. He wonders if you'll follow in his footsteps and ignore it, falling in the embrace of a rancid older person who will only take advantage over the loss of a profound relationship. He doesn't want you to do that, you should seek comfort in the arms of someone who can oddly comprehend you despite the hierarchy being completely different.

It should be him.

Decidedly, Doyoung leans in, like that first night in your room. His lips don't linger above your features or your lips like last time. This time he dives in, taking your lips into his in a slow and tender kiss. You reciprocate it instantly, holding onto him for dear life, afraid to be tossed around once more.

Your lips part slightly, seeking air although inviting him further in. Doyoung moans into the kiss when your hands creep under his shirt, they're peculiarly cold for such a hot summer. Alluding to the death that floods you from Meghan's rejection. He can tell you're replaying her words over and over every time your kisses get hungrier. Tongue overlapping his and savoring him further. Fingernails raking his smooth pale back. He'd be glad to parade those pink streaks, it's the least he could do.

He wasn't far off. It's interesting how easy one can hate someone they've loved for so long. All you had in mind was punishing Meghan for what she just said. She's killed you. She's killed that little girl that looked up at her like a mother. Mother's are supposed to be nurturing and kind. But like she's said, she doesn't owe it to you. You're not her daughter, never were.

Cruel, cold, and a bitch she was. You could be that too, you've become aware of it with every cold shoulder and scowl from her. You'll be what she truly sees you as if that'll make her happy.

Men are weak, you've known this too. She's taught it to you. So why not start proving it with her husband? Giving him that chance everyone knew he awaits.

Your hands warm up the longer they roam around his torso, ripping the buttons off his shirt. He doesn't seem to care, not when it's a piece Meghan made him. "Will you make me feel better, Doie? Will you help me forget? I think we both need to forget?" You whisper against his lips, his labored breathing mixing with yours, chasing your lips as a response.

He whines like a pet being denied a treat, teased and laughed at. To satiate him, you peck his lips, nipping them and earning another whine, pleased this time. He nods fervently, his own hands grasping your body, making sure you're here with him.

Swollen lips leave open mouthed kisses along his jaw, trailing to his throat. Nipping softly at the taut skin. He hisses and gasps here and there but he never pushes you away. He takes what you give, just like you.

Thankful for such, it's time you take a bite of that apple, rotten and all.

Doyoung groans when he feels your teeth cling to his Adam's apple, fingers pressing into your own skin. His body is now cold, similar to how your hands were at the beginning, it's infectious but delicious. He needs more of whatever you give him. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

It's easy to read his mind, the way those eyes look at you, ten times more intense than before. Enough to push you into creating a trail down his torso, similar to the stream of sweat that clung to him that first day you met. This felt nice against his cold skin. The warmth of your mouth and delicacy of lust intermingled into making his groin harden. You notice the need, fingers clumsily toying with the belt buckle until it's gone.

You tease here and there, fingers clinging to the hem of his underwear, scratching above his pubic hair and making him hunch over, only stopped by the feeling of your forehead on his exposed torso, purposefully giggling to have your breath tickle his greedy skin.

"It tickles." He utters, looking down at you with blown pupils. You smile, looking up at him with wide eyes, pressing your knuckles into his skin. "Better?" You question, he grins and nods.

You use his shirt as a cushion underneath your knees, it's futile and barely aids but it's better than bare concrete. Seeing there was no use to taunt him any longer, your fingers crawl within his underwear, grasping the phallic in much need of attention. He hisses feeling your grasp, it's soft but firm, tugging him out brusquely on purpose. He liked that.

Doyoung pants, attempting to control his breathing. It's been so long since he's been touched, any time Meghan attempted he was flooded with disgust and self hatred, pushing her off when she aimed to at least kiss him. He could live with it, believing his sex drive had died before you came into the picture. But with you around the house and him 24/7, it was becoming very difficult to do anything about his increased sex drive.

"You're so hard… When's the last time you had any action?" You ask casually, hand rhythmically rocking against his shaft, thumb collecting any drop of pre-come to smear against him. He's reluctant and embarrassed to answer but your sweet smile is so convincing that he responds with a guttural moan.

"I see." You hum, kissing his tip as a reward, eliciting another moan. Masturbating in the shower was not enough. Sometimes Meghan tried to get in there with him and it would make him flaccid immediately. It seemed the only times he could ever relieve himself was in the comfort of his study. His favorite times when you and Tina took advantage of the pool and sun bathed with his research papers in hand. That excited him most, the image of you in a skimpy swimsuit in front of his window and reading his thoughts on a subject you couldn't care for as much but would take just because it was made by him. You took anything he gave you.

The memory alone made him twitch in your hand, a giggle leaving your pretty lips. Like this, he would get so much harder like this. "I get it, Doie. I won't stall any longer." You relent, leaning further to take him in your mouth. The damp and warm cavity force a moan out of his own, holding onto your hair as he throws his head back. Fuck, he's been craving this for so long.

Doyoung feels his ears ring. His own breathing along the squelching of your throat floods them. He thinks this is heaven, although he doubts an act like this would allow any of you in. Right, it wouldn't. Not after you both submit to the temptation of forbidden fruit. But it's better this way, what fun is there in being a garden when you can't have what makes you feel good? Even if it is a sin.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth around him, head bobbing on its own despite your free hand giving him permission to push as much as he wants. Your tongue swirls around his cock, pressing firmly against the veins and dancing around the rest. It tickles, but he's sure you're aware. It is your favorite game after all.

He looks as pretty as the first day you met him. Beads of sweat rolling down his face, forcing his hair to frame and emphasize those pretty features of his. His ragged moans sound like those of an angel, pushing you further down his cock. It feels suffocating, he's not as girthy but he is long and it makes it much harder to push through. Even so, you want to be good for him, you've always wanted to be. This forces you to push through, gagging a few times but persevering until your nose hits his pubic bone.

Doyoung feels elated at this new found feeling. Your throat is so tight and warm, it feels like a reward for all he's endured. Sadly for him, it's torn apart, gifting him with an image of you teary eyed, gasping for air and a mixture of come and spit threading you both. He couldn't think he could get any more hard but this image alone makes him spurt pre-come onto your chin.

You give him a quick glance, smiling sweetly at him. "Close?" You ask, "You can come in my mouth, Doie." You utter, leaning in to take him in. He closes his eyes feeling your mouth around him again, dizzy and seeing stars. He feels the breeze enter from the windows of the greenhouse, whirling around you both. He finds that his body is no longer cold, it's scorching as yours.

Doyoung didn't think he could be so overstimulated before coming, it may be with the fact that he hasn't been touched for so long or how one of your hands clutches his into your hair, yanking to feel arousal from the sting. He swears can see a bead of your wetness roll down your leg when he looks down at you, cursing and bucking forward.

It hurts, you won't lie but that is exactly what made you keep taking him and pulling back out. The strain against your throat elating until he finally took it within himself to do as you wanted. His jutting forward with a harsh grasp on your hair, fucking your face and forcing you to gag while one of your hands plays with his testicles, only pushing him to go faster. Your other hand pushing aside your soiled panties and playing with your clit. It's a slick sticky mess, uncomfortable at best but the feeling alone does enough for you.

Doyoung mutters curses here and there. Pretty words too which you receive with moans that make him increase the pace. Both of his hands are on your hair when he finally feels himself spill in your mouth. His moan is so loud you wouldn't doubt that anyone outside of the greenhouse could hear him. You squeal, taken by surprise and also feeling yourself suffocate. Even when he's still inside of you, some of his come spills from the sides of your mouth, rushing out like water from a broken dam when he rips himself apart from you.

He feels out of it, trying to calm himself after such an intense orgasm as you are. Head thrown back, gasping for air without spilling any come still in your mouth. When you think you're stable enough, he helps you up. Kissing your soiled cheeks and licking his lips to savor himself. The image makes your pupils dilate. Taking himself in like it was melted ice cream, without a care. No one is as receptive to taste themselves but he was.

You hadn't come yet, and this image only made you want to reach that high more and more. Doyoung cluelessly smiles at you, appreciative of what you've done. It's wiped away when you take his face into your hands, kissing him. Instinctively, his lips part, allowing you to push his own cum into his mouth from yours. He's taken aback but weirdly aroused.

Narcissistic, egocentric, or whatever anyone wants to call it. It does not change the fact that Doyoung immediately hardens at the taste of himself mixed with the taste of your spit. The sweet tones of the lingering chocolate you two ate with the saltiness of his orgasm. Similar to a disgusting and corrupted salted caramel dark chocolate. It's not for everyone but it is meant for you two.

Hastily, he helps you up on the data table. Pulling down your wet panties and rubbing them along his hard and aching cock. He moans into the kiss, ragged and needy while he jerks himself off to increase the feeling. His tongue mingling with yours, swirling his come around both your mouths until it becomes warmer and lesser.

Fingers intertwined in your hair, tugging to hear more of you. Desire to hear more and more leads to shaking nimble fingers to trail the inside of your thighs. He smiles into the kiss feeling the scorching warmth within. Claiming and begging to be touched. He's no cruel man, not all the time at least, so he grants you this reward after all the ones you've given him.

Slowly, his ring and middle finger enter you easily with the slickness he's caused. The intrusion causes you to moan against his mouth this time, giving him the advantage to nip your tongue. It doesn't take Doyoung long to allow his fingers to move within you, pumping relentlessly to hear your pretty sounds. Guttural with the remaining come you two interchange.

You've always thought he had pretty fingers, since you met. Purposefully scraping yourself and staining your feet with grass to have him touch you. Nimble, long, and delicate enough to curl within your walls and cause a shiver down your spine. With the length, it doesn't take him long to reach your sweet spot. His pistoning motion and curl forcing cries and withering beneath him. Doyoung isn't as cruel or sadistic but this… he can understand why sadism exists.

Your legs don't seize to shake, a sheer layer of perspiration coating your body and face. He needs to let you finish, he just has to. It's not long until your body gives out, you need this or you'll probably pass out on this table alone.

But Doyoung allows himself to indulge that sadism he's contemplated for the past few minutes – enjoying his contradiction on cruelty. Halting his moves and ripping his hand away, taking the last drop of remaining come into his mouth to greet you with a cheshire grin as you look at him in surprise and betrayal. Every nerve in your body stings you left and right, punishing and taunting you for the lost glory.

"What the actual fuck?!" You gasp, looking at him, panting harshly with a body ready to explore from heat and desire.

He doesn't respond, letting the come and his spit trickle down to his glowing red cock, slacks and underwear pooled around his ankles. Now that his mouth is free, he chuckles. "Had to save some for lube." He shrugs, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your cheek reassuringly, rubbing the come around him until he pushes within you. It feels different than his fingers and your mouth for the both of you. Surely, nothing will ever be as good as the actual thing.

Doyoung doesn't move just yet. Allowing you to get comfortable while he contemplates on whether you should leave the red gingham dress on. It's too pretty and he was there when you made it. Meghan had hated when you told her he allowed you to use his mother's machine and fabric. She hated that you were taking over her on her own craft.

Hm… yes, just for that he'll let you keep it on.

"Come on, Doie… Fuck me as hard as you can." You lean in, whispering against his ear, biting his earlobe. That was enough incentive for Doyoung to begin thrusting. It's slow but hard at first, setting the pace. It doesn't take long for him to quicken it, increasing your moans with it. You hold onto him tightly as he pounds into you. So deep into the pleasure of being full again that neither of you speak.

Legs pushed wide open against the table, his glute muscles flexing with every hard stroke. He kisses you here and there, licking away the beads of sweat from your neck like a starved animal in need of more.

The taste of your skin drives him insane, nipping and licking until he reaches your breasts. Pushing down the fabric of the dress to take one into his mouth. Engulfing it, harsh suction that leaves you wanting more. His teeth aren't as kind to your nipples but you don't mind as long as he is well fed. As long as you're able to please him.

"You feel so good, Y/n… I won't ever be able to get enough of you." He pants, thrusts hardening, hips swiveling to get closer to you, enough that his pubic bone creates friction against your needy clit. That intensifies the feeling that pushes you further into an orgasm. Doyoung feels it when you squeeze around him and moan his name like a mantra, pulling at his hair like he's done to yours.

"Please… I've been good. Please, let me come, Doie." You beg, implore. You couldn't handle it any longer. He's come once before, when this is finished, he'll have two orgasms. Yet all you have is aching, an overdue orgasm that will knock you out soon if you don't release it.

Pretending to ponder your prayer as he harshly pounds into you, lips consuming yours. Tongue gracing yours in search for a sliver of his come's taste still lingering within you. It's not as evident as before but he eventually finds it, smiling into the kiss and nodding.

"Let it go, baby." He croons, shushes leaving his lips as he keeps fucking you. His permission setting your body free that each thrust makes you feel so sensitive and it's not until he reverts back to those initial harsh and deep thrusts that you squeal and moan loudly. Clinging to his body for dear life while your legs spasm and come around him. The image sends him into his own orgasm. Feeling your body tremble against his while you cry out in pleasure from something he's caused. It's beautiful and if possible, he'd have you as the main piece with those pretty red ribbons you love so much on your hair, surrounded by his taxidermy as the main attraction because you're precious enough to preserve.

The thought peeves him but he won't dwell, not when you still feel so warm and good around his spent cock.

"Has she ever made you come this much?" You ask between giggles, looking at the pool of cum seeping into the wooden table and dripping onto the concrete floor. Doyoung groans remembering his reality. "No. I don't even touch her, why do you think there's so much?" He glowers, shaking his head in the process. "I don't want to think about her. Not now… with you so pretty and open for me." He grins, leaning in for a kiss.

You hum against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. "All this come for me?" You question sweetly, faking naivety, he nods, a light chuckle. "Only you have made me feel so alive and hot." He utters, burying his face in your chest, kissing your tits slowly.

A content sigh leaves you, eyelids fluttering, a malicious grin when you look forward.

There she is, five feet away with a dull and dead look on her face, Meghan.

"I bet." 

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