#while also So Scared of looking ridiculous lol

[ghostlyheart]

I feel like the secret to making fun ttrpg characters if you're not an actor, writer, creative, etc. (speaking from personal experience) is honestly to just shamelessly crib from the world around you. Which can be the fiction that inspires you but also just like, look outside. Pick a random name from a gravestone and imagine what their life might have been like based on the limited context clues of their birthplace and time period. Or find a real historical figure that interests you and do that but a bit to the left. I personally find it much easier to start with the bones of a character's upbringing and occupation and imagine what "kind of person" might result from that situation than to come up with a completely new personality that I need to find a way to fit into the established world. Tweak and transplant into the 1920s/Middle Earth/the year 2352 as needed. I guarantee a 100% success rate 50% of the time

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[btsgotjams27]

the back-up plan | jjk

summary: one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

💖 title: the back-up plan | one-shot 💖 pairing: jungkook x f!reader | 💖 genre/au: romance, fluff / friends to lovers(?) 💖 rating: SFW | 18+ | 💖 word count: 18.1k | 💖 playlist 💖 warnings: jungkook & reader are both 29, reader is a hopeless romantic (what else is new with my characters?), jungkook is always pining and head over heels in love, jungkook is sweet and in luvrrr but he’s bad at feelings and tells some terrible lies (don’t hate him—ok!!), reader has a skewed view of relationships and what's expected of her, jungkook calls her wifey, hot and seggsy neighbor!namjoon (yes, pls), shirtless namjoon (2x), kissing, hand-holding, some suggestive language, mentions of erotic art and positions, first dates, alcohol consumption, reader has her belly button pierced, talks of tattoos & getting them, mentions of needles, and idk some things may come off as cheesy??? but it's a romance story so idk take what you will, light angst (you should know me by now!!), jungkook gets a lil drunk (pls drink responsibly), jealous jk comes out, love confessions 💖 a/n: the plot is a bit ridiculous, but that's the point! it's fiction (lol), i hope y'all enjoy it for what it is. the idea came from a tweet I saw, but ofc, I can't find it! so thank you to whoever tweeted it! and, happy birthday to the loml, jeon jungkook (this was supposed to be out for his birthday, but my brain said no). i also have to thank holly (@alphabetboyluvr). i respect her so much as a writer and friend, and I was super scared to ask her to even look at my outline, but she's always so sweet and willing. i couldn't have done this without her help, her comments, and suggestions <3 (i'd also recommend listening to the playlist while reading :)) and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts 💖

sunday.

Another day has passed, and it’s creeping closer to your birthday. They’re supposed to be joyous, celebratory occasions–and you love feeling special, showered with love and gifts. What more could a person want?

But you had a clear goal before hitting the big 3-0: get married–or at least be engaged to be married.

Most girlfriends your age were still having fun, enjoying life, and not ready to settle down. You’re unsure if your upbringing or society’s expectations distorted you, but you were fond of marriage and finding the one to spend your life with.

You also blamed the hopeless romantic in you when you dragged every one of your girlfriends with you to see the new romantic comedy, giggled, and kicked your feet when reading the latest best-selling romance novel.

The thing was, you were so close to getting engaged. You and your boyfriend, Theo, of eight months–well, ex-boyfriend–discussed it openly from the beginning of your relationship. And not even two weeks ago, he broke up with you out of the blue and gave no clear explanation.

You sat in bed debating whether to download your old dating apps again. Your birthday was in six days, and you knew you wouldn’t find a suitable mate before your birthday, but at least you could try, right?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 PM Happy ‘almost 30th’ birthday.

You 11:28 PM 😭😭😭

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:28 PM Are you still crying over Theodore Boner?

You 11:29 PM It’s Bonner, not boner!

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:29 PM 🤣🤣🤣 You were saved from that one. Imagine having the last name Boner.

You rolled your eyes at the text from Jungkook, throwing your phone beside you as you curled under your duvet.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

“What do you want, Kook?”

“You gotta admit, ____ Boner sounds awful,” Jungkook laughed as he pushed back in his recliner.

“I’m hanging up!” you threatened, getting ready to push the end button.

"No, no! I'm kidding. You would've made a great Mrs. Boner."

"Bye–Kook."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm done, I promise."

"I had a whole plan. What am I supposed to do now? My birthday is in six days," you groaned, covering your face with the duvet.

"You don't remember our agreement, do you?"

You brought the cover down. Curious about his comment. "What agreement?"

💖💖💖

Before this most recent one, your ex, Jimin, had broken up with you, and you were on the rebound, looking for a good time. Jungkook came to the rescue, saving you from your next mistake. He took you out for drinks, let you drown in your sorrows, and the two of you got pretty drunk. You could only remember bits and pieces of your conversation.

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by 30,” Jungkook suggests.

“You wanna marry me? But I’m such a mess.”

Your dating life, career, friends, and family were fine.

“Yeah, why not. We get along. You seem a little kinky in bed and make a mean spaghetti dish.”

“Is that all I’m good for? Sex and spaghetti?”

“That sounds like a bad porn film waiting to happen. No, but I'm serious. If we're still single, let’s get married.”

You wave him off. “Kook, you’re drunk. You’re just saying whatever.”

“Yeah, I'm drunk, but I'm serious about this.” 

He gets up, looks around, sees a straw wrapper, and ties it around your finger. He's on one knee before you.

“____, will you marry me? Hypothetically, of course, if we’re both still single by 30.”

You shake your head at your loveable friend. It was hard to say no. How could you?

“You’re so dumb.”

“See. You can write that in your vows,” Jungkook jokes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, you are pretty cute, and I can stand being around you,” you tease.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

You smack his arm. “Is this how you’re wooing your future wife?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I can’t believe how beautiful my future wife is.”

You’re unsure if it’s the alcohol making you susceptible and vulnerable to your good friend asking you to marry him or if it was because you were on the rebound. But what’s the harm? If you couldn’t find someone by 30, then you’d get to marry a good friend.

“That's more like it. Why yes, Jeon Jungkook. I will marry you if I'm still single by 30.”

💖💖💖

You let out a cackle. “Oh shit–I agreed to that?”

Jungkook pouts and nods. “Sure did.”

But Jungkook’s messing around, right? He was a good friend and comforted you in your time of need. There’s no way he’d want to spend the rest of his life with you. Plenty of suitable women were fawning over him, and now you’ve noticed you've never seen him with a girlfriend.

“You’re–you’re not serious, are you?” You stumble over your words, going into panic mode.

Why would Jeon Jungkook choose you, of all people, to want to marry? He could have anyone at any time.

No, you shook off the thought. You couldn’t lock him into a loveless marriage.

Jungkook licks his lips, tongue flicking his lip ring back and forth.

You shifted in bed and cleared your throat. “Aren’t you seeing that one girl?”

It wasn’t hard to notice when she practically hung onto him like a lovesick puppy.

Jungkook makes a face, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious.”

You give him a blank expression. “Nothing serious? Kook, she’s practically foaming at the mouth and shooting heart eyes when you’re around.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That could be you, too.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way if it is serious.” You surely didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

He waves his hand. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t back down from promises I make.”

Your lips turn into a pout, and you tilt your head, wondering why he’d ditch Clingy Chloe and commit to a drunken promise. “What’s in it for you?”

He seems offended by your question, so he scoffs. “I mean, I’m just trying to save you from a future where you’re an old lady with 50 cats, collecting newspapers that pile up from the floor to the ceiling, and then you show up on an episode of Hoarders.”

You chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” he questions hesitantly.

“I mean, marriage is a pretty serious thing, and we’re friends getting married because we have no one else?” The sentiment seems ridiculous once you say it aloud.

“What? You don’t think I'll be a good husband?” 

“No, I didn't say that. I think you’d be a great one, actually.”

“Then, what’s the problem? Don’t think you can handle me?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at your cocky friend. “I don’t know, Kook. What if I meet someone, or what if you meet someone?”

“You don’t think I can make you fall in love with me?” he asks, ignoring your question.

Your nose scrunches, and you laugh. “No.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like a challenge, and you’re lucky I love a little competition.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

You settle into the plush of your pillows. “Okay–tell you what, if you can make me fall in love with you within the week, I’ll consider marrying you.”

What would you have to lose? Being wined and dined by a cute guy? What girl would pass up this opportunity?

“Deal.”

💖💖💖

monday.

Your everyday routine consists of rolling out of bed, logging into work, checking your emails, and then sitting on the couch until you get a support ticket from someone who forgot their password for the umpteenth time.

It’s a great gig, and now you’re glad you went into the right field of work.

You’re on your random binge of rewatching The Fast and the Furious saga. Your friends always make fun of you, but you can’t help it. It’s a guilty pleasure of yours.

“You got some sexy legs. When do they open?” Roman says with a grin.

You burst out laughing. The dialogue is so bad, yet somehow, these movies keep getting made. You must be the target audience.

The doorbell rings and it’s 8:30 AM. Who is here this early? You didn’t buy anything online while you were drunk, did you?

You peek through the viewfinder, and it’s blocked by something yellow. You can’t see the delivery person’s face when you open the door.

“Special delivery for ___,” the person says in a deep voice.

“That’s me.”

And out from behind the flowers, Jeon Jungkook pops out. “Happy birthday week,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Your heart settles when you realize it's your friend or future husband. “What are you doing here?”

You notice two grocery bags on the ground next to him. He hands you the flowers and picks them up.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” He raises his eyebrow, scanning you from head to toe.

Real clothes and makeup don’t exist when you're working from home.

“Cute slippers,” he points out as you stare at your fluffy white bunny slippers.

You sigh, grabbing his arm to drag him into your apartment. As you’re about to close the door, you notice moving boxes outside the apartment next to yours. Hmm, someone new must be moving in.

“Is this what you look like underneath all that makeup?” he asks, making himself comfortable in your kitchen. The two bags are on the counter, and he’s going through the cupboards to find a vase.

“Top left above the sink,” you say.

He opens the cupboard, retrieving a clear vase.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company. Otherwise, I would’ve put on some decent clothing.”

And a bra, you think as you cross your arms, covering your chest.

Jungkook shakes his head. “You look good in anything, and with or without makeup. You’ll be my future wifey, so there’s no need to look for good me. We can just be comfortable with each other, right?”

You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow. He’s serious about this, isn’t he? You suppose you wouldn’t mind playing along to see how far he would go.

A man ready and willing to commit to marriage? You must be living in your romantic film.

You nod. “Right, we’re friends, possibly moving onto more than friends–well, actually, straight to marriage,” you chuckle, "but I’ve always felt comfortable around you, Kook.”

He flashes a warm smile. “Good, then everything will be easy, peasy lemon squeezy.”

He’s cute, you think.

“I hope you like mimosas,” he says as he unloads the groceries from the bags.

Bread, eggs, bacon, strawberries, orange juice, and champagne.

“Are you making me breakfast?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the man in the yellow beanie and white Nike shirt.

“Consider it your birthday breakfast, wifey,” he jokes, peering in your cupboards for a pan.

“Right side next to the oven.”

“Ah, I gotta remember this if I’m gonna be cooking here more often.” He whistles, setting the pan on the stove.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t you have to work today?”

“Nah–called in sick. It’s my wife’s birthday week. I have to shower her with all the love.” He wiggles his eyebrows and puckers his lips.

It’s funny to see Jeon Jungkook act this way. He’s always been playful and flirty the two years you’ve known him, but this must’ve been his way of pulling out all his cards of wooing a woman.

💖💖💖

“Breakfast is ready,” Jungkook yells from the kitchen.

A support ticket from work came through, distracting you from your movie and Jungkook.

“‘Kay! Almost done.” You recheck your work emails, ensuring everything is complete.

This time, you put on a bra, change into a decent shirt, and put on a skin tint and blush to make yourself look alive.

You stroll into the kitchen, and Jungkook perfectly displays the sunflowers on the counter and two delicious breakfast plates. The champagne flutes are filled to the brim and topped off with a beautifully sliced strawberry.

“Thanks, Kook. This looks so yummy.”

He flashes a smile. “Anytime.”

The two of you sit beside each other, digging into the breakfast spread.

“What’s that one movie you wanted to watch again?” Jungkook asks before he sips his mimosa.

Your mouth is full, and you chew quickly to answer him. “The one on Netflix?” He hums. “Wedding Season.”

“Sounds like the perfect movie for us to watch this week.”

“You’re into rom-coms?”

“I love ‘em.”

“Shut up. You’re teasing me now.”

“I don’t know why you never ask me to watch them, but you’ll ask the girls.”

You look down at your food before catching his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be into them, so I never asked. And you don’t seem like the hopeless romantic type.”

“I mean, growing up, I wasn’t. My parents didn’t have a fairytale romance, so I didn’t believe in love for a long time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, someone must’ve changed your mind then?”

He hums, not wanting to admit who made it an exception.

You nudge his arm. “Are you gonna tell me, or will I have to pry it out of you?”

He chuckles, not saying a word.

You scoff. “You’re not gonna tell me? Keeping secrets from your wife already? Rude,” you tut.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies.

The two of you finish breakfast, and Jungkook insists on doing the dishes. You set your plate in the sink and clutch onto his arm, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

💖💖💖

tuesday.

You take the morning off to run errands for your upcoming birthday extravaganza. And you’re struggling to hit the lock button on your keypad while holding a heavy box of birthday decor.

When you finally hear the whirring of the lock and chime, you turn around, bumping into someone, dropping your box, and knocking over a handful of books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you say, quickly picking up as many books as possible, and he picks up your birthday decor.

The man reaches for the pink heart-shaped sunglasses and other pink-colored decor. “Someone must be celebrating big,” the man’s dimpled smile displayed.

Your fingers accidentally touch his when you switch his books for your decor. You clear your throat, trying not to ogle the man. “Um, yeah, it’s for my birthday.”

He perks up. “Oh?” He flashes a thin smile. “Happy birthday.”

A breath gets caught in your throat, and you struggle to get any words out. “Uh, my birthday is actually on Saturday,” you finally croak out. “But, you must be my new neighbor.”

“Yeah, I’m Namjoon. I just moved in this past weekend.”

Oh, this is bad. Really bad.

He’s tall, has beautiful tanned skin and blonde hair, and you could live in his dimples.

“It’s–it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sorry about bumping into you, and it’s nice to meet you too. I hope you have a good birthday,” he says before picking up one last book on the ground.

“Are you doing anything this weekend? You can come if you want.”

After you ask, you want to kick yourself in the bum. Inviting a man you just met. What if he’s a weirdo? But how can he be if he’s reading ‘A Bigger Message Conversations with David Hockney.’ You may have managed to peek at one of his books.

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding! I’m inviting you, and you can’t say no to the birthday girl,” you tease, adjusting the box in your arms.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re right. It’d be messed up to say no to the birthday girl.”

“So, you’ll come?” you ask, and a smile grows from ear to ear.

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The two of you exchange information before you leave to finish your errands. You’re beaming down the street while carrying your box of decor.

You didn’t expect to find someone cute and endearing so quickly. And you’re surprised he said yes to your party. Maybe he’s new in town and wants to make friends. It would be a good way for him to get acquainted, and a part of you hoped you’d keep bumping into him in the halls.

💖💖💖

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 AM Wanna do a movie night today? We could watch Wedding Season.

You 11:30 AM Sounds like a date.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:35 AM Is 6 okay? I can bring dinner too.

You 11:36 AM That sounds perfect.

It's six on the dot, and you hear a knock on your door. You suppose Jungkook is the type to show up right on time, which you greatly appreciate.

He holds a six-pack of beer and a pizza box when you open the door.

"Ready for movie night?"

It’s halfway through the film, and you’re enjoying it. You love the fake dating trope because you could always count on the two mains to fall for each other.

"Are you cold?" Jungkook asks when he sees you tuck your hands in between your thighs.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Come here."

He opens his arm to cuddle, and you blink expressionless at him. The most intimate thing you’ve done with him is hug him–a side hug.

He laughs when you don’t move. “What? Scared I’ll bite?”

“No—it’s just that cuddling is an intimate thing to do,” you admit.

Arms and legs become entangled. Bodies are warming up against each other. Possibilities of things progressing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you have a throw blanket somewhere?” He looks around and sees a woven basket next to the couch. He grabs a white fluffy throw for you.

Jungkook gives you an out, and for that, you’re grateful.

“Thanks,” you say as you snuggle in the blanket.

He flashes a small smile. “No problem.”

Even though you rejected Jungkook’s invitation to cuddle, somehow, by the end of the movie, the two of you had fallen asleep—cuddling.

You didn’t pull away from him yet. You peered up at him, watching his chest rise and fall. Light snores escape his lips, and now and again, he puffs out a breath like a whale coming up for air, making you chuckle.

You rest your chin on his chest, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy this before waking him up.

“Kook,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Kook,” you repeat.

He hums, popping his head up while his eyes are still closed. He flutters them open and immediately sits up, wiping the drool that’s dried on his chin. He clears his throat. “Um—how long was I asleep for?”

You giggle. “We both fell asleep. I blame the beer,” you say, stretching your arms.

Jungkook can’t help but notice the shiny piece of jewelry hanging from your navel. “You have your belly button pierced?” he asks with a raised brow.

You quickly pull down your shirt. “It was a dumb thing I did when I turned 21.”

“It’s cute.”

You shy away from his comment. At times, you forget you have it.

“What else are you hiding, hm?” Jungkook asks.

You scoff. “Nothing. I only have my ears and my belly button pierced.”

“No tattoos?”

Tattoos are cool on other people, and you toyed with the idea of getting one. You were indecisive about what to get.

You shook your head no. “Maybe one day.”

“Get one for your 30th. I’ll go with you. I know a guy,” he teases, pointing out the ink on his skin.

“You gonna hold my hand the entire time?”

He grins. “Anything for the wifey.”

A tattoo, huh? You’ve always wanted to see how high your pain threshold was. “I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know, and I’ll get an appointment with the guy I always go to. I only trust him.”

Jungkook stands, proceeding to clean up the mess you two made.

“Oh, no. Leave it. I’ll clean it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

He looks at the clock. It’s nearly midnight, and he still needs to wash up.

You walk him to the door, holding it open for him to leave. “Kook?”

Jungkook turns to you. “Yeah?”

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you pull him in for a hug. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like a friendly hug. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, then he wraps his arms around you. Every ounce of his body presses against yours, and you fit perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. His fresh, clean scent invades your nose, and you wish it could linger for a bit longer while his hand snakes to the nape of your neck, fingers curling in your hair.

Why do you feel more vulnerable when sleeping next to him now than earlier? Is it because you’re awake and aware of your intentions? The question was, what were your intentions? Did you want this? Did you really want him?

You withdrew from the embrace, bidding him farewell. He gives a small wave before disappearing into the elevator.

As you enter your apartment and shut the door, you repeatedly knocked the back of your head against it, muttering, ‘fuck.’ You were playing along to see how far Jungkook would go before calling it quits, but you failed to see that maybe—just maybe you could be falling too.

Hoseok’s minding his business, eating his ramen when he sees his roommate walk in. Jungkook looks like he’s floating on cloud nine, beaming from ear to ear. There’s even a hop in his step. He twirls around, daintily sitting beside Hoseok.

Hoseok scans his friend, watching him as he breathes a happy sigh and stares into the distance.

“What’s going on with you?” He raises a brow and narrows his eyes.

Jungkook giggles and scrunches his shoulders. “I just came back from cuddling with ___,” he says as he continues in his reveries.

“Oh, boy. Everyone, can I please have your attention,” Hoseok cups his mouth into a megaphone, “Jeon Jungkook has officially gone off the deep end. He thinks being delulu is the solulu.”

Jungkook glares at his friend and kicks him under the table. “Yah–aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

Hoseok slurps his noodles. “Of course, I’m rooting for you. You’re my best bud,” he says as he places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he pats Hoseok’s hand. “Now–be an even better friend, and let me raid your closet for ___’s party.”

Jungkook lies in bed; his bicep flexes when he moves his hand behind his head. He’s watching an array of colors flash across the vastness of his room. The northern lights and stars twirl and sparkle like the movements of butterflies and the ones milling around his stomach for days.

Is this what being in love feels like, he thinks. It’s like he’s living in the romance movies he’s watched. Boy meets girl, boy, and girl fall in love, and they live happily ever after.

This is it. This must be it. His chance to be with you–the one he’s fallen completely head over heels for.

If the Jungkook from four years ago were to see him today, he’d laugh and call him a simp, especially with how he’s at your beck and call.

But the Jungkook, from four years ago, was a cynic. He had no healthy or loving relationships around him until he met you through Hoseok. And, even though you were with someone at the time, he saw how kind and wonderful you were to your friends and could only imagine the kind of love you’d show toward someone special.

There were only a few more days until your party, and he was determined to make each day count.

wednesday.

Since Monday, Jungkook has surprised you every day with a gift. They were his attempts to make you fall in love with you, along with his random trips to your place. 

Today’s gift was a pair of pink seashell earrings. Jungkook tells you he spent hours making it from clay, then baked them in the oven. You shook your head, wondering how he got an idea like this. Nonetheless, it was a sweet gift.

He texted throughout the day, leaving cute words of encouragement or sending TikToks of funny videos he’d find. Maybe this was his love language, taking the time out of his day to let you know he’s thinking about you.

As your day winds down, you’re scrolling through YouTube, and what catches your eye at 7 p.m.? Dessert videos.

And that’s your worst toxic trait—thinking you can bake. It always looks easy enough. If they can do it, so can you.

That is, until you’re in the kitchen, halfway through a recipe, and notice you’re out of sugar. The grocery store is too far and will close when you get there.

See what happens when you decide to bake? It always goes differently than you want.

You could call Jungkook to see if he has any or walk over to your new neighbor’s place. The latter was plausible since Namjoon was only a few feet away.

You shook off the nerves, flattened your apron, and lightly knocked on Namjoon’s door. You could hear shuffling as he unlocked it.

Your eyes widened, standing like a deer caught in headlights. Namjoon’s half-naked, black shorts hung dangerously low on his waist. His forehead is glistening with sweat.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you ask while trying to keep your gaze in line with his and not ogling his chiseled body.

Shit—maybe he had company over.

He cards his hand through his platinum blonde hair, but a few pieces fall back, covering his eyes. “No, you’re good. I just finished working out. What’s up?” he asks. His hand holds the door open as he leans against it.

You’re dumbfounded, unable to form words again. It’s like a giant hairball stuck in your throat.

Namjoon’s brows raise, and he calls out to you.

“Oh, sorry!” you say. “I’m attempting to bake a cake but I'm out of sugar. I wanted to ask if you have any I can borrow.”

“I think I do,” he ponders as he steps back. “Come in. Come in.”

You step into a squeaky clean apartment. Didn’t he just move in? How does someone unpack so quickly? Or maybe he had little to begin with.

His apartment was like a museum, with pottery, sculptures, and art prints adorning his walls and shelves. But what catches your attention is the translucent, cylindrical coffee table. It doesn’t seem like anyone should be putting anything on it.

Namjoon stands beside you, holding a jar of sugar.

“Ah, thank you so much! Now my cake batter won’t go to waste.”

“Anything catch your fancy?” he asks.

Granted, this man is still half-naked, standing beside you. You’re trying not to go feral over how broad and built he is.

“This, actually,” you point to the glass coffee table.

“That’s probably one of my most prized possessions.”

“It looks expensive.” You’d later come to find out it was worth $1.2M after you did an internet search.

“It is,” he chuckles. “It’s on loan from a friend.”

“On loan?” you ask, turning to him. Your eyes narrow and lips thin. “Can I ask what you do for work?”

“I’m an art curator.”

That makes sense now, considering the expensive and extensive art collection.

“Oh—you’re so fancy,” you tease. “I don’t know shit about art.” You could stand before a painting and feel nothing while looking at it. Maybe you were just going in with the wrong mindset.

Namjoon chuckles. “You can always ask me questions,” he notes before walking away to put on a t-shirt.

You’re a bit disappointed that you can’t ogle him anymore.

“Well, I can’t ask you questions if you don’t take me to a museum,” you flirt, turning toward him.

He grins, showing off his pearly whites and dimple deeply etched into his left cheek. “Are you asking me to ask you out on a date?”

You can’t help but play dumb. “Oh no, of course not! I would like your expertise to guide me around a museum, and if we happen to eat afterward, then I don’t know—would you call that a date?”

Namjoon licks his lips and nods, impressed by your boldness. “Are you busy Friday night?”

The cake wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. You’d have to keep perfecting it and maybe keep asking to ‘borrow’ some sugar from your neighbor.

You debated whether you should tell Jungkook about your date with Namjoon. It’s a harmless date; Jungkook would be off the hook if it goes well. Besides, it’s a silly agreement you two made up while drunk.

But, you’d sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow. There was one more day before the date anyway.

As you were sitting in bed, doing your nightly scrolling through social media. A video call comes through.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

You're on your side when you answer his call. “Hey, Kook,” you say before covering a yawn.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, shuffling underneath his duvet.

Your eyes scan the screen, and you notice his bare shoulders and collarbone on display. You never realized his tattooed sleeve reached so high on his arm, scantily kissing the top of his shoulder.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, about to call it a night. What's up?"

"I just wanted to call and see how your day was. I was busy at work, so I didn't get to text you," he says.

Now that you think about it, the last text you received from him was this morning. And since the start of your little agreement, Jungkook has been texting and calling more than usual.

"I worked, then attempted to bake a cake."

He props the phone against something as he lies on his side, and parts of his hair still look damp from a shower. And you hate how cuddly he looks while he’s in bed and how you can see how much he works out just from the outline of his arms.

And no—you aren’t thinking about anything else. 

"How'd it turn out?"

You shook your head in disgust. "Not very good."

"Ah, I'm sure it was great."

"I'll stick to store-bought cake for now."

"Next time, we can do it together and fail."

He wants to do everything with you, huh?

You chuckle at his comment and then say what’s on your mind, "I never realized how far your tattoo sleeve went up."

He peers at his shoulder. "Oh yeah," he leans forward to show you, his bicep flexing as he moves.

"Cool guy."

He chuckles. "Hardly cool. Just bored," he says. "So, should I schedule you for your tattoo?"

Since the last conversation, you've been scrolling through Pinterest and Instagram to get some ideas.

"I think I want the birth flower for September."

Jungkook shows you his arm, pointing to his tiger lily tattoo. "This one is for the actual day of birth, but the flower for the month of September is pretty too. Have you thought about placement?"

"Mm, maybe on the back of my neck or the inside of my arm. What do you think?" You show him your arm, then the back of your neck.

"It would look great on the back of your neck. It could be a nice surprise when you have your hair up."

"Oh–I like that idea."

He props himself up on the side with a wide grin. "So, I'm booking your appointment?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, why not? We only live once, right?"

Turning 30 is making your confidence go up.

“Once you get one, you’ll want more. Trust me.”

“At least I’ll have a tattoo buddy for life,” you tease.

“Ah, see, I like the way you’re thinking. Well, I should let my wifey get to sleep,” he gives a small smile. He reaches for his phone, placing it on his chest. His other hand is behind his head as he watches you through the screen.

You hum in agreement. “Night.”

“Night.”

Daydreams are one thing, and when Jungkook lies in bed, he can't help but wonder.

Wonder how you’d look in his favorite t-shirt. Wonder which side of the bed you prefer. Wonder if you dream of him, too. Wonder what it’s like to be loved by you.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wonder anymore; he wants to make you his reality.

thursday.

The birthday festivities started early for you as you requested today and tomorrow off. There’s no way you’re spending your last few days of being 29 stuck at work.

Today’s agenda consisted of a pedicure. The toes have to look cute with your new heels, and as you’re ready to head out to your appointment, Jungkook is at your door when you open it.

You tilt your head, knitting your eyebrows together. “Did we have something planned?”

He shakes his head no and pouts. “No, I wanted to surprise you with another gift.”

He hands you a gift bag, and you take a small peek, reaching down to grab the gift. You pull out a peach-shaped heart bath bomb.

“Peach?” You raise a brow and give a smug grin. “What makes you think I like peach?”

Jungkook snorts. “Oh, pfft–I don’t know. Could it be all the candles or soap? Or how you always order any type of peach-flavored alcohol? Tea? Or–”

You suck in your lips, then give a thin smile. “Son of a peach.”

“Very cute. You’re also great at fruit puns. I’ll add that to the list of reasons why I like you,” he chuckles.

To be fair, everything in your apartment had a hint of peach–your candles, air freshener, hand soap, ChapStick, and not to mention a cupboard full of peach tea.

You chuckle. “Thanks, Kook. You didn’t have to.”

“I do if I’m trying to make you fall in love with me.”

You set the bath bomb back in its bag, then on the entryway table. You close the door behind you, forcing him to step back.

“You talk a lot about making me fall in love with you, but you’ve still failed to do so. It’s almost my birthday,” you tease.

What girl wouldn’t want gifts, but you thought he’d push a bit harder.

Jungkook smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He steps closer to you–close enough for you to smell his cologne. It’s a fresh, clean scent.

He’s inches away from you. Warmth is radiating off of him. Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. Your eyes are on his, then focus on his lip ring, then the freckle underneath his bottom lip. It’s the first time you’ve been close enough to notice it.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours. His tongue wets his lips, then plays with his ring. “I’m just getting started,” he says.

You close your eyes, fluttering them back open. There’s relief escaping your body once he backs away.

“So, what are we doing today?” he asks, stepping out of the way to let you lead.

“I have a pedicure appointment. Wanna come?” you ask. You wouldn’t mind having company around, and you’re curious how he’ll continue to sweep you off your feet.

You feel bad for the poor woman who has Jungkook in her seat, and you’re trying your best not to laugh as he’s squirming, clutching onto the armrests.

You clear your throat. “Is this your first pedicure?”

“What? No,” he counters, but he’s giggling non-stop, holding on for dear life.

“Sir–I need you to stop moving,” the woman warns.

You cover your mouth. Your shoulders are bouncing due to your giggles. “Kook, she hasn’t even done anything to you yet.”

“How the hell do women do this? This is torture.”

“Can’t handle a little torture?”

He perks up, shaking off the chills. The woman continues to scrub his feet with a pumice stone. He’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh and smile when she gets to the underside of his foot. Then his reflexes get the best of him, and he almost kicks her.

The woman gives him a blank expression but is professional and continues as fast as possible.

An hour later, Jungkook is coming out of the nail salon, sweating bullets from the endless torture of a pedicure.

You look at him and then his toes. “At least your toes are cute.” He let you choose the color, and you had to choose hot pink to match your birthday theme for this weekend.

He does the walk of shame in a pair of yellow flimsy flip-flops because he wasn’t prepared for a pedicure. You’ve been there, done that.

You link your arms to him when you catch up to him. “Hungry?”

Jungkook groans in delight. “You have to try this.”

He leans forward. A piece of his roasted chicken ravioli covered in pink sauce looks delectable. You open your mouth, devouring the pasta. You close your eyes, savoring it.

“See, what did I tell you?” He smiles, going back to his bowl of food. “How’s yours?”

You didn’t want to say you didn’t like it–but you hate it. “It’s good,” you smile and lie through your teeth.

You begin moving the ravioli around, pretending to make it look like you'll eat it.

Jungkook sets his fork down, pushing his bowl toward you. “Here, take mine.”

You look up at him. “What? No–I like my food,” you lie again, grabbing your bowl and clutching it closer to you.

He deadpans. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you don’t like something. Come on, I’ll finish your food, and you can have mine.”

You let go of your bowl. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook smiles warmly, his small dimple on display as he nods. He grabs your bowl and begins to eat it.

Your heart softens, and you’re enchanted by your friend/potential future husband, so it pains you to have this conversation. You tossed and turned the night before because you couldn’t bear the thought of locking your friend into something he'll regret later on.

“So, you might not have to marry me,” you say.

Jungkook looks up at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Damn, someone beat me to it?” he jokes.

You flash a thin smile and shake your head no. “Well, I have a crush on my new neighbor.”

He raises an eyebrow. “New neighbor?”

You nod. “Yeah, he just moved in.”

Jungkook nibbles on the inside of his mouth then continues to eat. “You barely know the guy, and you’re already tossing me aside?” He tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m–I’m not tossing you aside. You’re still an option, but I’m just saying if it works out with the new neighbor, then you’re off the hook. I'm sure there are better girls out there than me, Kook. You don’t want to be married to me.”

He sets his fork down, pushing his bowl forward. “Well, what can I say? You can’t see the guy?”

“So, you’re okay if I see him?”

Jungkook hesitates to answer. “Mm,” he hums with a nod.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset?” He shrugs. “I’m only a back-up.”

His answer gives you a sense of relief, but you also feel guilty about everything. “Should we end our little deal? That way, you don’t have to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. It seems silly now that we’re both sober and not drunk making promises like this.”

He hums and nods again. “You’re right. It does seem foolish.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I'll go pay while you finish up."

You watch him get up and walk to the register. His demeanor changes as soon as you mention ending the deal. 

Is he serious about this?

Honestly, you’re stumped by Jeon Jungkook and his intentions. If he did like you, why not ask you out like an average person? Why go through the trouble of marrying you? So that you could fulfill some silly goal you had for your life?

“I’ll walk you up,” Jungkook says as he turns off the car.

“It’s fine, Kook. You don’t have to,” you counter.

On the ride back, guilt has been eating you from the inside out. You’re unsure why you feel this way–maybe because you feel like a shitty friend. Saying one thing and then doing another.

But again, marriage is a serious thing for two people to consider.

Jungkook doesn’t waver in his decision and escorts you anyway. The silence is deafening in the elevator; the two of you stand at opposite sides, stealing glances. There’s an elephant in the room, but neither of you addresses it.

When the elevator doors open, you expel the caught breath in your throat. Jungkook follows a few steps behind you.

“Are we okay?” you ask, glancing at him before lowering your head.

He stuffs his hand in his pants pocket. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like an ass because you’ve been such a good friend–especially after my breakups. And then this past week, you’ve been sweet and cute with all the little gifts and hangouts,” you pause to look at him.

His eyes are big and innocent, and his lips form a slight pout. He’s intently listening to your words.

“I’m trying to say I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and I’m sorry how things turned out,” you manage to spit out.

Jungkook nibbles on his lip, showing off his pretty dimple. His eyes dart to yours as he flashes a thin smile. “Well, I’ll always be your back-up if this guy doesn’t work out.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that he can still joke about this situation. You close the distance between you, reaching up and draping your arms around his neck.

It takes a moment for him to return your hug, but he does–wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. He nuzzles in the crook of your shoulder, taking in your sweet scent and softness.

Your heart’s fluttering, your stomach is somersaulting and doing back-flips. Jungkook’s warmth is all-encompassing, encapsulating every fiber of your being. Neither of you let go, allowing this embrace to go longer than usual friends do.

When you pull away, your lips are so close to his. Close enough to explore what they taste like. Close enough to see how plush they are. Close enough to find out just how much you’d have to gasp for air afterward.

You almost want to give in. You almost want to see where this could go. You almost want him to make a move.

Jungkook whispers your name, and you hum, gazing into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? About the deal? You don’t want it anymore?”

You're becoming lost in the stars and galaxies contained in those doe eyes. Jungkook doesn’t lose focus, doesn’t break character, and doesn’t give you a chance to run away.

“This stops when you say so,” he utters softly.

He’s unrelenting, you think. He wants this, doesn’t he? He wants you.

So these next few words sting. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t even realize when he’s outside his apartment complex. He sits in his car, zoning out. He’s so close to finally getting you, but now there’s someone else?

For two years, he’s been trying to buck up the courage and finally ask you out, and when he finally gets an opportunity, someone always swoops in and steals you away.

When he proposed the agreement, it was more of a joke, that is, until you agreed, and that’s when he knew he’d try whatever it took to get you to the altar.

A knock on Jungkook’s window breaks him from deep thought. He looks up to see his roommate, Hoseok.

He gestures for Jungkook to roll his window down. “Why do you look like you're on the verge of crying? Why don’t you go up to the apartment?”

Jungkook holds onto the steering wheel and groans as his head hits it a few times, muttering, ‘Stupid.’

Hoseok knits his eyebrows in confusion as he rubs his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the car door.

Jungkook drags his feet through the threshold and drops his backpack on the floor. He continues walking sluggishly, plopping on the couch, still in a daze.

Hoseok blinks at his friend. “What’s going on?”

“You know how I was trying to make ____ fall in love with me this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, she likes her new neighbor.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “There's a new guy already? I swear this girl must have some kind of bat signal that’s beaming up into the sky that attracts men the second she’s single.”

Jungkook drops his head back, then rubs his face. “What am I going to do?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Maybe tell her how serious you are about being with her.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”

“So, you’re going to trap her in a marriage instead?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Make it make sense, my friend.”

Maybe that's what he wanted. It could be like an arranged marriage. Meet first, then fall in love.

“I know it sounds ridiculous!”

Hoseok rubs Jungkook’s shoulder. “This whole deal is ridiculous. Be honest with her, then she’ll have to choose between you and the new guy.”

He knows Hoseok is right. He should be honest and tell you how he feels.

Or he could get rid of the new guy, and the deal would be back on.

Decisions. Decisions.

friday.

Jungkook was determined to make this agreement work out in his favor. He wasn’t going to back down so easily.

He took off early from work, going straight to your favorite bakery to grab a cake. Thoughts are racing through his mind as he clutches the cake box and walks through the crowded street.

What if this was his last chance? What if this new guy was ‘the one’ for you? He couldn’t let you slip away again.

He’s even prepared a monologue. He’s mumbling it under his breath when he arrives at your door.

When the door opens, he doesn’t find you. Instead, he finds a half-naked man with broad shoulders and impeccable pecs.

Jungkook stands tall and puffs out his chest, back straight, when he sees this unknown man. His mouth is agape as he scans him from head to toe. Was this the guy you were talking about?

He clears his throat and stands his ground. “Oh, uh, who are you?”

“Hey, man. I’m Namjoon. ___’s neighbor,” he says.

“I’ll be right out!” you yell from the other room.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, and he’s trying to calm his nerves. There’s no way you were sleeping with this guy already, right? No, you can’t be, Jungkook shakes the thought from his head.

You sprint from the hallway, holding a shirt. With your clumsy ways, you spilled iced coffee on Namjoon’s shirt right before your date. You felt bad, so you offered to wash it for him.

“Namjoon, I’m so sorry! I’ve tried everything to get it out. I might have to buy you a new shirt–oh,” you gasp. “Hi, Jungkook.”

Jungkook walks in, setting the box down, and he doesn’t say anything else as he leans against the counter, watching you two.

Namjoon sucks in his lips, strolling to your side, looking at his stained shirt. “Don’t worry about it. It was time to get rid of that shirt anyway.” He gives a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna grab a new shirt, then we’ll be on our way?”

You hum. “See you soon.”

Jungkook’s eyes follow you and Namjoon as you bid him farewell. You lower your head and purse your lips when you approach Jungkook.

“Date night?” he asks, turning to you.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your date. Just wanted to drop off a cake I picked up for you,” he points to the box on the counter.

You see the bakery's name on the box, and it’s from your favorite place. You undo the tabs and unfold the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake with various shades of baby pink and blue, then sitting prettily on top is one of your favorite Sanrio characters: Cinnamoroll.

“Kook–you didn’t just pick this up.” A cake like this was ordered well in advance.

His eyebrows rise, and he gives a half-smile. He walks beside you. “Happy early birthday,” he says as his eyes flick to yours. “See you tomorrow.”

When the door shuts, you wince.

Namjoon has a brilliant mind, and that intimidates you. He's far too intelligent and reasonable for a hopeless romantic who lives in their daydreams and wants a ring on their finger by tomorrow.

The two of you come to a crowded spot in the museum. You look back and smile at Namjoon. He puts his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind. Your stomach somersaults from the affection, but you continue leading the way through the sea of people, trying not to focus on it.

An announcement reminds museum go-ers that they’ll be closing in 15 minutes.

“Should we head out soon?” you ask with disappointment. You thoroughly enjoyed hearing Namjoon talk even though you had nothing insightful to say about the numerous art pieces.

The corners of his mouth curve up. “But we have one more exhibit to see,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He holds out his hand for yours.

You’re intrigued, so you don’t question and place your hand in his.

Everyone starts to file out toward the exit, but the two of you enter an exhibit hidden away in the back.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble?” you ask.

He chuckles. “You’re cute,” he says before showing you his work ID and security badge.

“Oh,” you giggle. It makes sense. Namjoon did say he was an ‘art curator.’ He just never mentioned where he worked.

“Feel free to look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

You take your time, roaming around, going from piece to piece. Namjoon stays in place, waiting until you’ve found something. You tilt your head, examining the drawing.

[ frida castelli, milan ]

It's a woman. Her back is bare, and she's curling her hands into the bedsheets. The drawing is cut off right at the small of her back, and one can assume the rest. It's erotic–as this exhibit displays various works from modern artists.

Namjoon stands beside you. “Thoughts?”

Horny, you think, but considering this is your first date. You probably shouldn’t blurt it out.

“I like the position she's in,” you say, and Namjoon chokes on nothing. You cover your mouth and can’t help but laugh.

“I like that position too,” he adds.

You try to suppress your smile because now, you’re thinking about the two of you in that position.

"Should we keep looking?"

After a late-night dinner, you’re standing outside your door, not wanting to say goodbye to Namjoon. You’d invite him in, but tomorrow’s a big day, and you have an early wake-up call.

“I hope I was able to answer your questions,” Namjoon says, leaning his shoulder against the door, facing you.

You give him a small smile, looking at the floor, then back up at him. "I think you answered everything."

He hums and parts his lips. "Well, I have one question for you, if that's okay."

You nod.

"Can I give the birthday girl a kiss?"

You lick your lips. "It's not my birthday yet."

Namjoon steps forward, scanning your face. "You can consider it an early birthday present."

"Well, I won't say no to a birthday present."

Your heart is swooning over this tall, handsome man. He’s perfect. He's brilliant and well-spoken. Someone secure and confident, even emotionally available. You’d be a fool not to want this to go further.

Your gaze darts back and forth between his eyes and his lips, unsure how to respond. You've been wondering what they taste like all night and want to kiss the freckle underneath his lip. They look so rosy and pillowy, almost like kissing a cloud.

He softly presses his lips against yours. His big hands cup your face. His nose brushes against your cheek. His lips encapture your top lip, then your bottom. He lingers briefly before pulling away, his lips ghosting over yours, and you want to return for more–you’re not done.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

His breath is warm, and he smiles before going back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands are placed on his taut chest, fingers curling and tugging on his shirt. The butterflies in your stomach are yearning for a way out. The desire in you grows deeper. You’re breathless at this point, but you don’t care if you never breathe again.

First kisses always make you go weak in the knees, and you wish you could experience them over and over.

“Your lips are stained,” you notice when you pull away. 

Namjoon chuckles; his thumb swipes at his bottom lip. “That’s okay.”

He moves in to kiss you again, but you stop him by putting your index finger to his lips. “The birthday girl should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

You render him speechless—he made the first move, but you’ll have the final say.

You bid goodbye to him, trying your best not to linger and give in to your urges. Peering through the viewfinder, you see him smiling and shaking his head before he closes the door to his place.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as your back is against the door. The date couldn’t have gone better–though you probably couldn’t write a dissertation on Modern Art in Korea, you appreciated that he took the time to explain what he loves and why he’s so passionate about it.

Maybe he could be the one.

It’s midnight when you’re under the covers and still glowing from your date with Namjoon.

You check your phone to see text messages from Jungkook.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:22 PM Hey! I found some cool birth flowers. Do you like any of these? [ 5 images attached ]

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:27 PM And my tattoo guy had a last-minute cancellation for Monday at 6 p.m. I’m gonna book you for it, okay?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 10:05 PM I can go to hold your hand if you’d like.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:11 PM I hope you had a good day. See you tomorrow, birthday girl.

This differed from how you wanted to celebrate your birthday week, especially not how you envisioned your friendship with Jungkook. Did you ruin it?

And that’s when your heart aches as you reflect on this past week. Jungkook has been so sweet, and you feel like the worst friend. Could he be into you, and you’re blind to notice?

But what about Namjoon? He’s undoubtedly checked off all the boxes you could want in a partner.

Plus, Jungkook’s just a back-up.

saturday.

The sun is peeking through, and the birds are chirping away. You’ve slept through your alarm because you’re still in dreamland.

You’re unsure who’s in bed with you. All you hear is a groan and shuffling as they reposition themselves. You peer over your shoulder, quickly turning away when they pull themselves closer to you. Then, as an arm comes into view, draping over you, you recognize the inked skin.

It’s Jungkook.

A buzz from your phone and a bang at the door awakens you. Missed notifications of calls and texts from Jenn, your best friend, flood your screen.

You sprint to the door, unlocking and opening it for her.

“Jesus Christ—I thought you were dead,” Jenn says after she brushes past you, setting several bags on your kitchen counter.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe,” she blinks, giving you the once-over. “You haven’t showered, have you?”

You shake your head no.

“Well, go! It’s your birthday, but we can’t wait all day for you.” She shoos you off to the bathroom.

When you’re out of the shower, Jenn’s sitting in front of your vanity, putting on her blush.

“So, how are you doing, babe? Still not over Theodore Boner?”

“Bonner,” you correct her.

You adjust your towel, tucking it securely. “There’s been some new developments,” you say, walking to your dresser.

Jenn slowly turns around. “Please don’t tell me you’re back with him? He was a walking red flag. Well, at the end of your relationship anyway.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head. “You know that time I was upset about my break-up with Jimin?”

Jenn hums and narrows her eyes.

“Jungkook and I went out and got pretty drunk.”

She leans forward. “Uh-huh.”

You cleared your throat. “I may have agreed that if Jungkook and I were still single by 30, we’d get married.” You turned around, opening the top drawer in search of cute underwear.

Jenn’s jaw drops. “You’re not going to marry Jeon Jungkook, are you?”

You laugh it off. “No, of course not! But he’s always been there for me after my break-ups.”

“Oh, how convenient that he also happens to be single by your 30th birthday,” she says dryly.

“Jungkook’s been a good friend, and if we were to get married, and that’s a big if, then honestly, I think we’d be pretty good together,” you explain.

You're not sure if you're attempting to persuade Jenn or yourself. You’re not going to lie. You’ve toyed with the idea this whole week.

“Why don’t you just date Jungkook then?” she asks, returning to add more blush to her cheeks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “Err–well, because there’s a new guy.”

She whips her head back around. “I go on a solo trip, and you have not one but two guys who want to be with you?”

“Technically, I told Jungkook that if things work out with me and Namjoon, he doesn’t have to marry me.”

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah, he’s my new neighbor.”

“Shut up! Your neighbor?” Jenn stands, sprinting out your bedroom door. “Which apartment? I need to see this man.”

“Jenn!” You run after her, clutching her arm, trying to pull her back. “Stop it, will you? He’ll be at the party tonight.”

Jenn turns to you. “Babe–you have Jungkook and new neighbor guy vying for your attention? Sheesh. When can I be the main character?”

You grip your towel and drag her back to your room.

“At least tell me more juicy details,” she whines.

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror. Hot pink usually is not part of his wardrobe color, but he does it in a heartbeat if it involves you and your silly antics.

He slips the hot pink denim jacket over his white shirt and matching pink cargo trousers. He adds a neon green necklace to finish off his look.

This outfit is Ken-esque, right? He sighs, wishing you could be the Barbie to his Ken.

His roommate, Hoseok, knocks on his door, breaking his focus. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Jungkook nibbles the inside of his cheek. This week’s been a rollercoaster of emotions for him. He was at an all-time high before you broke the news that you no longer need a back-up.

He’s gone back and forth, debating whether to fight for you or give up.

"I don't know yet," Jungkook responds. He glances at Hoseok through the mirror's reflection.

“Tell her how you feel. Be honest with her,” Hoseok says. He’s been telling Jungkook for two years now.

Jungkook turns around. “I can’t–” he pauses and huffs a breath, taking a seat on the bed.

Hoseok narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he leans against the door frame. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve done too much shit by breaking up her relationships. She’ll never forgive me,” Jungkook explains.

Hoseok choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Remember Jimin and Theo?”

Hoseok hums.

Jungkook clears his throat. “I may or may not have told some harmless lies that ended up in them breaking up with her.”

Hoseok huffs out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell her right off the bat that you wanted to date her.”

“I’m an idiot, that’s why, and now it’s too late. She doesn’t want me. She wants the neighbor guy.”

Hoseok sits by his friend. “It’s either now or never. You can’t keep breaking up her relationships because you’re too scared to be in a real one with her. You don’t want to start it off that way.”

Jungkook flings himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I know! I’ve just never done this before. I don’t know how to act. She’s the first person I’ve had actual feelings for.”

Hoseok blinks at his friend, ready to say something, but Jungkook interrupts him. “Don’t say shit about that–many people don’t meet the right person until later in life.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “There’s no judgment from me, my friend. Just consider my words before anyone gets hurt.”

You swipe the lip tint across your bottom lip and repeat with the top. Glancing in the mirror, you adjust your dusty rose dress and tie your matching ribbon in your hair.

The theme for tonight's party is Barbie core, and individuals are encouraged to wear any shade of pink. You’re ridiculous, but you only turn 30 once–why not go all out?

Buckets of bubbly are filled with rosé bottles and floral ice cubes. Barbie-esque props, including heart-shaped sunglasses and cut-out foam lips, are ready to be used at the photo booth. You’ve spent too much time on Pinterest planning the perfect celebration.

It’s ten to seven and still too early for people to show, so you order a Malibu Barbie cocktail at the bar. Jin, the bartender, even tops off your drink with pink sanding sugar for this special occasion and throws in a little peach schnapps.

“There’s the birthday girl.”

When you turn around, you see Jungkook in a bright pink attire. Not every day you see him dressed in anything other than black or white, so you consider this a rare treat.

He offers you a warm hug, and you both act as if nothing has changed. It’s not like you’ve seen him every day as he’s dropped off gifts for you, or he willingly watched a rom-com and definitely hadn’t cuddled.

It’s like you’ve gone back to being just friends.

As you withdraw, you give him the once-over. “You look great in hot pink. I wish I got to see your matching toes.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t think sandals would go with this outfit.”

You shake your head no.

“You look amazing,” he adds, taking your hand and making you twirl for him.

“Thanks, Kook,” you grin. Your hand lingers in his as he delicately caresses your skin. The back of your neck is warming up, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a mistake breaking off your deal.

“Ah, there’s our Barbie girl!” Jenn exclaims as she approaches you. Immediately, you let go of Jungkook’s hand.

“Hey!” you answer, rubbing the back of your neck. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

Jenn raises her brow at you and Jungkook. “I did, but you’re busy with Ken, so I’ll ask Hoseok to help me. Enjoy your night, babe.”

You take your drink and dash off with Jenn, telling Jungkook you’ll see him later. As you stroll behind her, you loop your arm around hers.

“Are you okay?” Jenn narrows her eyes, suppressing a smile.

You clear your throat. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It looks like you and loverboy were having a moment there before I interrupted,” she says, setting down the flower vase on the dessert table.

“He’s not my loverboy. I’m gonna start seeing Namjoon, remember?”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Look–all I’m saying is you should give Jungkook a chance. Anyone could tell he’s head over heels in love with you.”

You choke on your drink. “What? How come no one’s ever told me?”

Jenn laughs. “I never put two and two together until you mentioned your little agreement with him this morning,” she pauses, cupping your face. “And my sweet, innocent Barbie girl, he shoots heart eyes whenever you’re around.” She holds your chin, turning you in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook is leaning on the bar, attempting to find the perfect stance to appear cool, but he has no idea what to do with himself. He peers in your direction, catching your gaze, and quickly turns away, waving down the bartender.

She continues, “You’ve been with so many knockoff Kens that you were blind to the real one. He’s a bit of a goofball, but he seems sweet, and like you mentioned today, he’s always around when you’re in need.”

What if your decision was a mistake? Would it be too late to change your mind? You were sure Jungkook had already moved on after being rejected.

You watch while Jungkook drinks something–you figure it's vodka. A shot for yourself seems enticing, simply to settle your anxieties.

Your birthday is supposed to be filled with joy, laughter, and celebration, not you being torn between two great guys.

The party is in full swing–the music’s blaring, friends laughing, chattering, drinking away. Everyone has arrived except for the one person you've been looking for: Namjoon.

You giggle when you scan the room and see Hoseok and Jungkook dancing in the corner. When your eyes catch him, he gestures for you to come dance, but you haven’t had enough alcohol to make a fool of yourself.

He sprints to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you along. “You need a drink before you dance, huh?”

Your lips thin, and you think, how does he know you so well? 

You nod and follow him from behind. You stare blankly as his hands are loosely intertwined with yours. He’s leading you through the crowd, letting go once you’re at the bar’s counter.

“Do you still want that pink drink thingy you had earlier?”

“Surprise me,” you say.

“Two Pink Cadillacs, please,” he says to Jin.

As Jin gets to work on your drinks, Jungkook makes small talk to kill time.

“Are you having fun?” he asks, standing before you. He sways to the song's beat, grinning from ear to ear.

You’d have more fun if you weren’t thinking about him and Namjoon all night. Considering that Namjoon hasn’t even shown up yet, you appreciate that Jungkook’s a sweet and caring friend.

“I’ll be having more fun once I have this drink,” you say over the music.

“You’re not having fun with me?” he jokes, holding out his hand for yours, and of course, you take it.

He draws you to him, makes you twirl around, and then dips you. A slight squeal escapes your lips when you come back up.

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No, I’m–I’m having a good time,” you answer his previous question.

“Are you sure? It looks like something’s on your mind,” Jungkook notes. "You can always talk to me, you know."

Even after breaking off your agreement, he's still willing to be a good friend to you. How'd you get so lucky with someone like him?

"I know," you smile, draping your arms around his neck.

"Two Pink Cadillacs."

You break away from him, grabbing your drink. The two of you sip on them, watching the crowd.

"Jungkook, one. Hot sexy neighbor, zero," Jenn whispers in your ear before walking away.

You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes at her. It’s been an hour, and Namjoon is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe something came up. Things happen. You get it.

"What's going on with Jenn?" he asks.

"Nothing," you reply as you move to stand before him. "You know how she is."

Jungkook takes another sip of his drink. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

Your eyes widen and flick to him. Have you been obvious about what’s on your mind?

“Yeah, of course–” you say before a hand slides on the small of your back. You turn to see the man who’s been MIA, Namjoon.

“Hey, birthday girl. I’m sorry I’m late! It was a lot harder to find a pink outfit than I thought,” Namjoon chuckles, then he sees that he may have interrupted something. “Oh–hey, man! Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook gives a small smile, and you mouth, ‘Sorry.’

“Can I steal you away for a second?” Namjoon asks, and you oblige.

Namjoon takes your hand, ready to drag you off, but you stop and return to Jungkook. “Can we talk later?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s your birthday. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jungkook looks on as you and Namjoon disappear. You laugh when he says something, and Jungkook can hear it–you always let out a tiny squeak, your shoulders bounce, and you cover up your mouth because you don't like how your teeth show when you laugh.

He rubs the back of his neck. He’ll have to find time to talk to you later.

Hoseok nudges Jungkook. “Who’s that?”

Jungkook sips his drink and inhales sharply. “Her neighbor.”

“They look pretty cozy to me,” Hoseok remarks. “Go say something before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late, Jungkook thinks. He’s lost you again. What’s the point if he tried with you and you didn’t want him?

He chugs the drink and orders another round for him and Hoseok. He might as well enjoy the booze while he can–at least it would get you off his mind.

Jungkook's vision is blurred, speech slurred. Even though he sees double, his gaze is still fixed on you and Namjoon, following you wherever you go: the photo booth, the bar, the dance floor. Namjoon’s hands haven’t left you, whether holding your hand or soft touches on the small of your back.

It should be him, he thinks, but he’s been turned down before. He couldn't imagine being rejected twice.

He leans on a high-top table, rhythmically tapping his fingers against it. A few of your friends drag you off to the photo booth for the umpteenth time tonight, and Namjoon is left waiting for you.

Jungkook waits and observes Namjoon, wondering why you’d choose Namjoon over him. He thinks he could take the guy in the boxing ring. He’s too big and sluggish to move as fast as Jungkook. Indeed, he could knock Namjoon out with his right hook. But if it’s not a physical thing you’re looking for, then it’s an intellectual thing.

He shakes off the self-deprecating thoughts. Why doesn’t he go over and chat the guy up? Get to know him. It won’t hurt to find out what kind of guy he is.

There's a queue of friends waiting to take individual shots with you, and you look over to check whether Namjoon is all right. You notice Jungkook approaching and breathe a sigh of comfort, knowing he'll keep Namjoon company.

Jungkook stands up tall when he’s beside Namjoon. “Lavish party, huh?”

Namjoon turns to him and chuckles. “Yeah, she went all out for her 30th.” He cracks his neck and adjusts his bright pink blazer.

“Since you’ll be around, you should get used to it. ___ throws parties like this all the time.”

“She does?” Namjoon’s eyes widened with concern.

Jungkook pouts and nods. “You think this is bad? Last year, she rented a private island, and everyone who attended had to buy a plane ticket to her party.”

Namjoon gulps.

“Man–and now that you guys are together. I'm wishing nothing but the best for you," Jungkook shakes his head. "The last guy was going through it.”

“Last guy? What happened to the last guy?”

Jungkook glances in your direction, then back to Namjoon. “Oh, you guys haven’t had that conversation yet?”

“What conversation?”

“Let’s just say there was a restraining order involved.”

There’s a look of relief on Namjoon’s face. “Man, that guy must’ve been a psycho.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no. The restraining order was against her!”

Namjoon shifts his position, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side. Once, she took a bat to a neighbor’s car, thinking it was her boyfriend’s. Mind you, she was pretty drunk—and it was dark, but when she has an idea that you’re cheating on her, all hell breaks loose,” Jungkook tuts.

“Oh.”

Jungkook chuckles. “And don’t even get me started on her obsession with that one K-pop group, Seventeen. She practically has a shrine in her bedroom. Mingyu’s face is plastered on every square inch of her walls, and when they finally came on tour, she drained so much of her savings flying everywhere to see them—front row, I might add.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I think I need a drink,” he says.

“But don’t worry, man, you’ll be fine!” Jungkook shouts as Namjoon walks away.

He lowers his head and rubs his face. He blames the alcohol for his stupidity. His string of lies is why you would never want to be with him.

Although Jungkook has spewed many lies to Namjoon, it doesn’t scare him off. The two of you are like two peas in a pod. And when he sees Namjoon jet off somewhere, Jungkook swoops in, hoping he’ll have a chance to talk to you before it’s too late.

“Hey!” Jungkook says out of breath. “Going home?”

“Yeah,” you beam a warm smile. “I’m pretty wiped.”

“I can take you home, and then maybe we can talk?”

You nod. “Mm, that sounds like a plan.”

You’ve always found it easy to talk to Jungkook. Even though he claims not to be good at chitchatting, he knows how to make you smile and laugh.

“Did you see Hoseok and Jenn trying to undress each other?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Jenn claims she thought Hoseok was a Ken doll,” you giggle. “I don’t know why they keep skirting around each other. They should date already.”

You two arrive outside your apartment. You unlock the keypad, leaving the door open. Turning back, you see Jungkook standing there. “Are you gonna come in or talk to me from out there?” you ask, shaking your head.

Jungkook walks through the door, closing it behind himself. He smooths down his pants and fixes the collar of his jacket. His gaze darts around the room as he prepares to say what’s on his mind.

“Can I change, and then we’ll talk?”

Jungkook nods, and you run off to your room.

With a heavy sigh, he takes a seat on the couch. He keeps shifting his weight, but nothing feels right. The sweat on his hands increases as the seconds pass by. He's never done it before, confessed his feelings.

Jungkook had rehearsed like he was up for a big audition but felt he’d stumble over his words and blurt out bleh-bleh-blahs.

You resurface a few seconds later, wearing an oversized t-shirt and what appears to be nothing underneath, but when you sit down, he catches a peek at your shorts.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, about us.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

A knock on the door interrupts you. Your eyebrows knitted together, wondering who it could be this late at night. When you open it, you find Namjoon.

“Hey! You left your phone at the restaurant,” he says. He acknowledges Jungkook as he steps in.

“Oh, thank you! Ah–don’t leave yet! I have something to give to you, too.” You dash to your room, leaving Jungkook and Namjoon.

There’s a moment before Jungkook breaks the silence. He turns to Namjoon. “That shirt she’s wearing is from her ex-boyfriend. She sleeps in it every night because she misses him.”

Namjoon’s lips thin, and he nods.

“Trust me–you should run while you can,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

He points to the small Seventeen merch collection sitting on a shelf in your living room. “See. It’s cute and innocent until it’s not.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Namjoon says reluctantly as he turns away, trying to focus on other things until you return.

You leave your room with a bag, handing it to Namjoon. “I washed your shirt and bought you a new one too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he reaches for the shirt, taking it out.

“I know, but I felt bad about ruining it.”

Namjoon chuckles. "I like how you're giving me a gift on your birthday."

You wave off his comment. "It's nothing. Thanks for returning my phone,” you say, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you later?”

He flashes a grin; his dimples etched deeply into those cheeks. You pull him down to kiss him on the cheek, barely catching the corner of his lips. You let it linger for a second longer, ensuring Jungkook can see it.

“Bye,” you whisper, closing the door behind him.

You stand with your back facing Jungkook. Clenching your jaw and your fists, you huff a breath. Turning around, you stare at the one person you thought was your friend.

“This is my ex-boyfriend’s shirt, and I sleep in it because I miss him?” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

Your glare silences Jeon Jungkook, and his deer-in-the-headlights appearance implies guilt.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “Have you been sabotaging all my relationships? Tell me the truth.”

You remember Jimin and Theo and how conveniently Jungkook had been there after each breakup.

There’s still no word from Jungkook. He’s playing with the invisible hair on his chin before he stands. “Yeah, but it’s only because—”

“Because what!” you exclaim. Never in a million years did you think you’d be yelling at a good friend. “Because you want to marry me? Why didn’t you just ask me out, Kook?”

The nickname causes his heart to ache. His eyes darted to the floor, then at you. “Because...”

You lean forward, waiting for his excuse, but he doesn’t give you one. You’re only met with silence.

“Because you’re the kind of guy who lies and manipulates to get what he wants? Didn’t really think you were that kind of person.”

“I’m not—”

“You are! If you cared about me, you wouldn’t go around spreading lies. And to think I was going to marry you? God–you must think I’m fucking stupid.”

"No, I don't think that at all—" he counters, taking a step toward you, and you take a step back.

Licking your lips, you play with your bottom lip. "I—I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm the same person you met two years ago," he says. Jungkook steps toward you again, reaching out for you.

"Don't touch me," you warn. "Don't you ever talk to me again," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You should go, Kook."

Jungkook walks past you. He makes his way to the door—and when it shuts, you flinch.

Approaching your 30s, you figured you’d be crying because you’re likely to have a mid-life crisis and not because one of your good friends has lied to you for the last couple of years.

Jungkook has misled you throughout the week. You don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.

Your heart aches from the pain. Why did this hurt more than a breakup? You trusted him, even considered marrying him and spending the rest of your life with him. How could you be so naive? Maybe it was your distorted perception of love and relationships, and that’s how you ended up in this situation.

Maybe it's your fault and no one else's.

sunday.

It’s early. Too early for Jungkook’s taste.

He’s been tossing and turning all night. Wishing he could redo the last two years. Wishing he could’ve been honest from the beginning. Wishing you didn’t hate him right now.

Picking up his phone, he grumbles after seeing the time—six in the morning. There’s no way you’re up, he thinks. And there’s no way you’ll pick up his call either.

He assumes you’ve blocked him—wants nothing to do with him and doesn’t blame you.

The expression on your face is ingrained in his memory, and the lies he told are on a continuous loop. How would he win you back—if you’d let him, that is.

It’s that point in the romantic movie where the love interest finds the courage to go for it. Jungkook has nothing else to lose at this point. It’s now or never.

With your favorite iced coffee and pastry in hand, he’s ready to beg for your forgiveness. Beg for another chance to make things right.

Three knocks strike your door. No answer.

He gives it another moment before doing it again.

And nothing.

He pulls out his phone, searching for your contact. It rings several times and goes to voicemail. At least you didn’t block him, he thinks.

Should he wait here all day? In hopes you’ll leave your apartment?

Unless Namjoon has seen you or knows your whereabouts.

Jungkook figures, why not? What does he have to lose? He’s already lost his dignity.

Another three knocks, only this time it’s on Namjoon’s door. A few moments later, the lock unlatches, and the door opens.

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Have you seen or heard from ___?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, man. I haven’t.”

The corners of Jungkook’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Fuck,” he mumbles, lowering his head. He turns on his heel, ready to leave.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He turns back and hums.

“If you like her, be honest with her,” Namjoon says.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Did ___ tell you?”

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head no. “I figured you were lying when you said she made everyone fly to a private island. She mentioned that she’s never flown before. So I put two and two together, and it was hard to ignore all the glares you gave me at the party.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lowering his head. “I’m so sorry about all the lies I told you. None of them were true—except maybe the Mingyu thing. She does have an obsession with that guy.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about coming between you two. But it’s no wonder she likes you. You have your head on straight, unlike me.”

A grin sweeps across Namjoon’s face. “It’s okay. I get it, man. I’ve been there before—not the lying, but I’ve been head over heels for someone. ___ is cool, and you seem like a good guy. Just…don’t give up on her, okay?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What about you guys?”

“Huh? Me and ___?” Jungkook hums. “We’ve been out on one date, and you’ve known her for…?

“Two years.”

“You have more history with her than I do.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell lies.”

Namjoon steps forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’d be a fool to give up now. Trust me, you don’t want to live with the what ifs and what could have been.”

“Um, here,” Jungkook says, handing Namjoon the iced coffee and pastry bag. “I don’t want it to go to waste.”

He bids Namjoon goodbye, and as he’s driving home, he stares off into space, pondering Namjoon’s words.

What if you never want to talk to him again? What if he loses you?

He only wanted his chance with you; whenever he gathered the courage to do so, someone always came into the picture before him. He’s realized how much his lies caused more harm than good. He was cheating his way into your heart, which is unfair to you and him.

You peek out when the elevator doors open, ensuring the coast is clear. You've seen the missed calls and texts but needed more time to be ready to face Jeon Jungkook. That's why you've been hiding out at Jenn's all day. But alas, you had to go home and face your fears.

Your door accidentally slams when you go in. Shit.

It’s not like Jungkook’s been waiting around for you, right? Though, you didn’t want to make it known that you were home.

Not even ten minutes after you’ve arrived, there’s a knock on your door. Peering through your viewfinder, you check if the coast is clear and unlock your door. You grab Namjoon's hand, pulling him into the apartment.

"Whoa–miss me that much?" he jokes, setting down the iced coffee and pastry bag.

"What's that?"

"Jungkook dropped it off this morning, but you weren't here. Have you been hiding?"

You lower your head. "Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know?”

You ignore the coffee and pastry bag and sit on the couch. “It’s a weird way to show that you like someone by lying and sabotage.”

“I think it’s cute,” Namjoon chuckles, sitting beside you.

Disbelief is written all over your face: eyes wide, brows lifted, jaw open, which only makes him laugh harder.

“You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d say single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.”

“Is this a weird ‘guy code?’ Am I missing something?”

He shakes his head. “I get where he’s coming from. Does it suck that he lied instead of saying what he wanted? Yeah, but maybe he didn’t know how to say it because he feared he’d say nonsense in front of you. I know the feeling–where you like someone so much, you’re afraid of looking dumb.”

You ponder Namjoon’s words, sipping on your iced coffee. “You seem chatty. Does that mean you don’t go dumb around me?” you ask dryly.

Namjoon laughs. “I get butterflies and excitement every time I walk out my door, hoping I’d bump into you.”

“But?”

“But you should figure things out with Jungkook, and then we’ll go from there.”

It’s silly—the glow-in-the-dark stars that are plastered on your ceiling. Half of them threaten to fall, and the other half are stuck on so tight it’ll take off the paint.

“You’ve never had glow-in-the-dark stars before?” Jungkook asks. “Let’s get some.”

The only reason why they’re up there in the first place is because of him. Jungkook was comforting you after your breakup with Jimin.

You throw your duvet over your head, screaming into it. How could you have been so blind? So stupid? How are you supposed to face him again with your friend group? Or alone?

This past week was perfect—at least, you thought it was. But you’re second-guessing every interaction, every conversation, every laugh, every touch.

If you hadn’t met Namjoon, could you have fallen in love with Jungkook?

The more you thought about it, the more you hated that you were falling for him. Maybe Namjoon was just an excuse not to explore a relationship with Jungkook. Maybe you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, but then again, what did it matter because it’s been sabotaged by Jungkook himself?

How would you get out of this mess?

monday.

A notification ding shows up on your phone.

[ Tattoo appointment - 6 PM ]

Shit. You completely forgot about your tattoo.

You go through your text messages, finding the Instagram profile of Kai, who’s supposed to tattoo you. You frown when you see a cancellation fee and that the cancellation should’ve been done two days before the appointment. Now, you have to mentally prepare yourself for getting your first tattoo.

The recommendations on your YouTube only show videos of ‘how much does getting a tattoo hurt.’ You know the pain that goes into a needle puncturing your skin. The question was, how high was your pain threshold?

When you walk into the shop, a bell chimes. It’s in pristine condition, as one would expect from a tattoo parlor. You’re greeted by a girl dressed in a black latex v-neck top. A sunray heart tattoo sits right on her chest.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Kai.”

She clicks through her computer and beams a warm smile. “For ___?” You nod. “Is Jungkook coming too?” she asks.

“Oh no. I don’t think so.” Was he planning on getting something, too? You didn’t think he’d show after everything went down.

“Kai is finishing up with a client, and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

You flash a small smile, taking a seat in their lounge. You’re picking at your nail beds and bouncing your leg. You’re trying to focus on anything other than what will happen soon.

A light noise of whirring fills the room. You close your eyes, concentrating on your breathing. It’s a small tattoo. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you think.

A part of you wishes Jungkook was here to hold your hand like he said he would. It's dumb even to want him to be here. But after spending so much time with him this past week, you admit you miss him.

"I’m ready for you,” Kai says.

You take a deep breath and follow him to his workspace.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s my first tattoo.”

“You’ll do great. I know it,” Kai smiles, sitting at his desk. He grabs his iPad. “Okay, what are we getting today?” Kai asks.

“Um, I turned 30 yesterday, so I wanted to get the birth flower for September,” you say, showing him the inspiration photos.

“Ah, Happy Birthday,” Kai grins. “Birth flowers are a great choice. Any idea where you want it and the size?”

"On the back of my neck, I don't want anything too big. Two to three inches."

"Oh–a woman who knows what she wants. There was no hesitation," Kai teases. "Cool–so, I'll sketch out a few options, and then we'll go from there. Sound good?"

You press your lips together and nod. As Kai's working on your sketch, you stroll around his workspace, looking at the illustrations hung up. There's traditional and fine line art, and you recognize a drawing of a snake—it looks like the one Jungkook has on his arm.

“See anything else you like?”

“I, um, recognize some of your work. You’ve tattooed my friend, Jungkook,” you note, turning back to look through more of Kai’s sketches.

Somehow, your nerves have finally calmed down. The whirring noise from the tattoo gun is like white noise to you, drowning everything out. You’re lost in the intricate detailing of the drawings. Tattooing is true art, you think. But instead of a traditional canvas or paper, it’s forever inked on someone’s skin.

“Okay, let me know what you think of these.” Kai shows you the iPad with a few flowers drawn out.

“You’re so quick,” you comment as you review your options. “Let’s go with this one.” You love how delicate and dainty the tattoo looks.

“If you need a break at any time, just let me know,” Kai gives a warm smile. “I apologize for the weird positioning, but I’ll need you to lay on your stomach, and your head will hang off the table.”

Your lips thin when you catch his gaze. You remove your zip-up hoodie and place it on a chair with your bag. Kai prints the design on transfer paper, putting the placement on the back of your neck. He hands you a mirror, ensuring it’s in the correct spot.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he says.

Once you’re on the table, the once-soothing noise of the tattoo gun flips a switch, and sweat builds up in the palms of your hands. The blood rushes to your head as your head is hanging off the table. You can see Kai’s feet as he steps on the foot pedal, ensuring his equipment works correctly.

You take a deep breath, trying to exhale fear and anxiety, but nothing works. The tattoo gun sounds closer, and the needle inches away from you. Your fists clench up, and you close your eyes, hoping it’ll be over quickly.

You can feel the latex glove on your back as Kai’s ready to outline the design. You can do this, you think.

With eyes still closed, fists clenched—you’re ready.

The shop's bell chimes again, but you’re too focused on this needle about to prick your skin. You can feel another presence. Their warmth is radiating on you. You figure it’s just the girl from the front, so you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Your fist unclenches, and not because of your own doing. It’s whoever is beside you. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of black motorcycle denim tucked into leather stomper boots.

“Hey—my man,” Kai stops and acknowledges. “Good to see you, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook replies. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Nah, you’re right on time. We just started. I’m sure ___ appreciates you being here,” Kai notes, returning to tattooing you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but having Jungkook’s presence was comforting. A part of you wanted to be stubborn and pull your arm away, but considering that a needle was piercing your skin—it wasn’t a good idea.

Jungkook laces his hand with yours; his thumb lightly grazes over your skin. He leans forward, whispering, “Hi.”

You’re unsure if the shiver running through your spine is because of the needle or Jungkook.

While lying on this tattoo table, you’re at war with yourself. An angel on one shoulder tells you to stay strong and not give in because he’s holding your hand. The devil, on the other hand, is telling you you’re a simp and can’t resist when a man is fawning over you.

You hate that the devil is right, and you’re even considering Namjoon’s words, ‘You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d stay single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.’

Was it dedication or delusion?

You won’t lie. You’ve done questionable things when it came to love, too, so you couldn’t blame Jungkook. Maybe you should hear him out and see what he says for himself.

You’re silent, letting Kai do his thing. He and Jungkook chit-chat about life and future tattoos. The buzzing mechanical hum from the tattoo gun is constant and annoying—you’re growing numb to it like you’re growing numb to the pain.

But Jungkook’s touch? It makes you tingle. You’re keenly aware of how his thumb strokes against your knuckle—the constant squeezes, reassuring your anxiety when the pain shoots down your spine.

Through the years, that’s what Jungkook’s always been—he soothes your pain.

Maybe he’s responsible for your current pain - the shattered relationships and this tattoo you’re getting, but he always has a back-up plan: himself. He’s the shoulder to cry on, the hand to hold—the constant, consistent one who shows up repeatedly.

He’s confusing but calming, and you’re annoyed at how much you don’t mind his touch. Your breathing slows, and your shoulders relax as you sink into the cushioned table.

“Almost done,” Kai notes.

That was fast. Fifteen minutes–tops.

Kai finishes cleaning the tattoo, and after you stand up from your awkward position, you’re face to face with Jungkook. Once again, Jungkook resorted back to his favorite color: black. He’s in an oversized long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and there’s a silver chain adorning his neck.

His doe eyes twinkle and the corners of his mouth curve up. “The tattoo looks good on you,” he says softly. “Do you wanna see?”

Even with a mirror, the placement makes it hard to see the finished product. You grab your phone, open the camera app, and hand it over to Jungkook. You turn around, facing the mirror, holding up your hair. You catch Jungkook’s gaze and look away. His hand gently touches the nape of your neck, removing a stray hair. He snaps a few photos, handing your phone back.

“It looks beautiful on you.”

You mumble a word of thanks, grabbing your things, attempting to flee from his presence.

Pulling out your wallet to pay for your tattoo, you head to the front, but the girl stops you.

“Jungkook already paid,” she says.

The nape of your neck warms up, and your nostrils flare. You nod at the girl. Bumping into Jungkook on the way out, you stuff your wallet back into your bag, and Jungkook follows you, catching up.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook.

"Because it's your birthday present. I couldn't let you pay for it."

You narrow your eyes, giving him the once over. “Why? So you can tell the next guy I date how we have matching tattoos and scare him off?” you retort, brushing past him.

Jungkook cards his hand through his hair. “Come on, that’s not fair,” he shouts, running after you again.

He calls out to you, making you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you breathe a heavy sigh. “You’re right. It's not fair,” you give him a wry smile. “But doesn’t it sound like something you’d say? Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire.”

The third time must be the charm because he’s chasing after you again.

“Hey, can we talk, please?” he implores as his eyes scan your face.

You zig-zag around him.

He repeats by running and standing in front of you. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“Watch me,” you retort, attempting to flee again.

Jungkook holds his hand up. “Just hear me out, and if you never want to talk to me again after that, then so be it."

You huff. “Only if you drop me off at home,” you say, crossing your arms. You don’t feel like taking the subway; it’s the least he could do.

With hands in your lap, you’re waiting for Jungkook to say something, but he’s as quiet as a mouse. He’s missed two exits and been driving in circles, going past your apartment complex for the fourth time. You wouldn’t be surprised if a police car starts following you, considering how suspicious the two of you look.

You can’t take it anymore—the endless dancing around this conversation. “I thought you wanted to talk?” you ask as your eyes flick in his direction for a moment.

He straightens his posture, gripping the steering wheel and focusing on the road. "I'm, uh, I’m sorry for telling all those lies. It was stupid of me. I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning.”

You bury your face in your hands before turning to him. “If you liked me, why didn’t you tell me?”

You had come up with many scenarios in your head and thought back to your conversations and interactions with him. Jungkook had so many chances to say something, but he never did.

Jungkook shrugs and looks at you briefly before returning to the road.

“It’s easy being your friend, but to be your boyfriend? That scares me.”

You get it. Opening your heart, being vulnerable, and giving your everything to one person is terrifying. Sometimes, it feels like days, months, and years are wasted with one person when it doesn’t work out.

“Scared you’d screw it up?” you ask, turning to him.

Jungkook hums as he pulls up to your apartment complex.

With a sigh, you admit, “You were on your way to being a pretty good boyfriend.”

You hate that you found him so sweet and cute, even after everything that’s happened.

“I was?” he questions with widened eyes and turns off the ignition. He shifts to face you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. Your hand lingers on the door handle. “Walk me up?”

The two of you are on opposite sides of the elevator. Jungkook’s leaning on the metal bar behind himself with his legs crossed in front of him.

He hangs his head before looking up at you. "What if I had been truthful from the beginning? Do you think we would’ve been together?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “I don’t know, Kook. I guess we’ll never know.”

When the elevator arrives at your floor, it chimes, and you exit, and Jungkook follows. You stop outside your door, watching as Jungkook leans his shoulder against the wall, facing you.

You can tell when something is brewing in Jungkook’s mind. You’ve been friends long enough for you to notice some tendencies.

With an eyebrow lifted and his tongue poking through the inside of his cheek, he’s ready to lay something on you. He licks his lips, eyes flick to yours.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he says.

You can feel your stomach somersaulting when he doesn’t break eye contact. Your heart rate rises as you work harder to pump more blood than usual.

There were small, fleeting moments where you could picture yourself with him: weekend mornings with breakfast in bed and late-night cuddles on the couch.

“I’m trying my hardest not to feel something,” you confess. As much as he was scared to screw it up, so were you. You’ve never dated a friend. You’ve met all your ex-boyfriends through mutual friends. You’ve built fantasies of what a perfect boyfriend and relationship should look like, and Jungkook wasn't perfect–but neither were you.

Jungkook moves closer. “So you like me too?” His eyes dart from your parted lips to your eyes.

“I don’t not like you,” you say softly, stepping forward as you play with his silver chain.

"So where does this leave us?" He’s searching your face for an answer.

As always, your heart is at war with your head. The sensible thing to do is to stay friends. The foolish thing is to see how this could pan out. What if you could get your happily ever after?

"What would you do if I was yours?" you ask.

"If you were mine?"

You hum.

"If you were mine, I'd spend every waking minute with you. Asking anything and everything that comes to mind. I want to know what makes you happy and sad. I want to know what you love and hate. I want to know everything your heart desires." Jungkook eliminates the distance. "I'd pepper you with kisses all day–on your neck, cheeks, forehead, lips–everywhere,” he says softly as his eyes never leave yours. "If you were mine, I'd never lie to you again. I'd love you with every breath and never let you go." He’s eye to eye with you, hands cupping your face. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I was an idiot for not saying anything sooner. But if this is the only time I could be with you, I'll take it."

You gulp. Jungkook’s saying all the right things, everything a girl could want. You hate it. You hate that you’re a sucker for heartfelt moments and love confessions. Neverending cartwheels occupy your stomach. The little gymnast in there is going for the gold–doing back flips and leaps; there’s no way to stop them. Your heart beats faster for him than for anyone else–even more than Namjoon.

All it took was a silly agreement and a few lies to make you realize you didn’t want a perfect boyfriend or relationship. Forget getting married by a certain age. Forget the expectations of you instilled by society. This boy was a bit messy, a bit ruined, but a beautiful disaster.

Whatever it looked like, you wanted him.

You take another second to look at him because what you want to say next will change your friendship.

“Kiss me,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to his lips.

“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?”

You nod.

If there’s one more thing to add to Jungkook’s list of fears—it’s ruining your friendship.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do,” he whispers.

Restless is how you would describe Jungkook. Restless when it came to telling your exes lies. Restless in his ability to sit still. Restless as he chews on his bottom lip–it could be how he incessantly licks his lips or just lacks hydration. You’ve never noticed before how badly he needs chapstick.

But Jungkook’s within touching distance of your lips, and all you can think about is how much he needs chapstick. Your sweet peach one, you think.

Maybe you should offer him some.

“Then don’t.”

It’s slow and gentle when he kisses you. He’s taking his time. There’s no urgency. No tongue, no hands beneath your shirt, or roaming your body. Nothing like that.

It’s like he’s been waiting so long to do this. It’s like he’s forgotten any other mouth existed but yours. You’ll forget your name or where you are when you finally break away from his lips.

He consumes every thought you have, and this is what you were afraid of–that you’ll become addicted to his kisses. You’re unsure how long you can stand before he has to carry you to bed.

His breath is warm and sweet. You love him breathing life into you and taking it away over and over. Your hands curl into his shirt, tugging him as close as possible. Tilting your head, you open your mouth to catch more air before kissing him again. Lips upon lips are discovering each other.

Jungkook pulls away, his nose nudging yours. He kisses the corner of your mouth and your cheek. He’s on his tippy toes, kissing your eyelids, then your forehead.

“Okay–don’t stop,” you say, breathless, reaching for another kiss. “It’s for scientific reasons.”

He chuckles. “Are you researching how long someone can go without breathing?”

“Mmhm.” You reach again, but he pulls back, making you pout.

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier, ‘Where does this leave us?’ he asks.

You realize he won’t kiss you until you answer him. You cock your head to the side. “I like you, but it will take a minute for me to trust you again.”

Jungkook nods. “Mm, I get that. So…?”

“So–we should take this slow and see where it goes.”

He sucks in his lips, trying to suppress a smile. “What about Namjoon?”

The two of you hear someone clearing their throat, and you look in their direction as they appear from the hallway. It’s Namjoon, giving you a quick wave.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says as he walks to his door. “I saw you guys when I turned the corner, but then I ducked back into the hallway, waiting for you to…finish.” Namjoon presses his lips together into a smile.

You turn to Jungkook. “I’ll be one second.”

With a sprint in your step, you head toward Namjoon. “I’m so sorry you saw that.”

Namjoon laughs. “Why are you sorry? I knew I didn’t have a chance against Jungkook. I was waiting for you to realize you wanted to be with him.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew?”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Mmhm.” He leans forward. “We had fun, but look at the guy.” Namjoon glances at Jungkook. “I would’ve felt like the back-up until you two got your shit together. You don’t have to worry about me. Go–he’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks Namjoon.” A sense of relief rushes over you, and you’re thankful he understands.

Returning to Jungkook, you’re no longer looking at your back-up plan. He’s the one you want to wake up next to, the one you want to laugh with, smile with–he’s become your first choice.

He extends his hand for yours. “So, should I get my tux pressed?”

You deadpan.

“We’re practically engaged now, right?” he jokes before leaning in for a kiss.

You press your finger into his taut chest, pushing him away. “Be fucking for real, Jungkook. We’re going inside and watching my favorite rom-com–While You Were Sleeping, so you can see the consequences of how lying gets you in trouble.”

“Oh, I love that one! It's the one where she pretends to be engaged to the guy in a coma, but she falls for the brother?”

You slowly turn to him, mouth agape. “You really have seen a lot of rom-coms, haven’t you?”

“I may have learned a thing or two from them.”

“Yeah–lying!” You scold him as you enter the apartment. The two of you continue bickering back and forth.

Who knew you’d be living in a romantic film of your own?

[avocado-writing]

Okay, I've had this idea bouncing around in my head, waiting for you to reopen suggestions, haha. How do you think the Origins Companions + Halsin, Rolan, Dammon, and Zevlor would react if they found out that Tav had been hiding a very serious injury from them? The kind of injury where Tav is convinced that they're fine and they don't want to worry anyone with something they can handle on their own, especially the people they care most for, but as they try to ignore the injury it only gets worse until it's potentially life threatening and they can't keep up the facade anymore. I will leave it up to you whether or not Tav and the other individual are in a romantic relationship. I think both ways have potential for wonderful angst 😆

ooohhh noooooo! but also oh yes, LOVE this sort of angst lol. written as if you have had an infection come on from an injury. this is gonna be a long list so let's buckle up...

Astarion

really tries to hide his panic but fails miserably.

can't help but start snapping - how could you keep something like this from him?

you try to give your excuses but he waves them away, angry, but mostly because he's terrified that he might have lost you.

if he has any healing potions he helps you take them, if he doesn't he immediately... sources some from somewhere.

holds you as tight as he dares, worried that he will aggravate the injury otherwise.

as you begin to heal and drift off to sleep he spends the whole night watching you rest, making sure that you're still breathing, still safe. doesn't mind when you cuddle up to him in the night, sleepily.

Gale

curses himself for not noticing your condition. he's a wizard, damn it! he's meant to be bloody perceptive.

wishes for the first time ever that he didn't just know wizard spells. wishes he knew how to heal, too.

makes you as comfortable as he can while he finds a book about what he can do for an infected wound, probably swallowing his pride and going to Shadowheart if it's bad enough.

you manage a weak, "Gale, you don't have to--", and he cuts you off, "if you're going to insist that I don't have to look after you, I'm telling you that I do."

fixes you something to help with the pain and infection, makes sure you drink it all despite the horrid taste, then tucks you into his bedroll to let you rest.

when you go to reach out and cuddle him he slips into your arms, presses his lips to your hair, and whispers as you fall asleep about how much you scared him. about how he'd never be able to lose you.

Lae'zel

only realises how unwell you are when you fall over mid-journey.

"tsk'va! why did you hide the extent of your injuries from me?"

hauls you onto her back and carries you back to camp, muttering about your foolishness the whole time.

makes you comfortable in her tent and uses her knowledge of githyanki medicine to help start healing you.

it isn't comfortable as she works on your infection but for the first time you feel her hands being soft rather than vicious.

"you should not have kept this from me." "I know. I'm sorry." "hm. ridiculous thing. zhak vo'n'fynh duj."

goes and intimidates the camp into being quiet so you can rest. it works. this is the nicest she's ever been to you. you could get used to it.

Shadowheart

obviously this is not a huge problem for her, but she is still worried that it got so far without her noticing.

immediately heals you, pouring far too many spell slots into your body in order to get it up and running again.

it helps, immediately breaking the fever you've been nursing, and the touch of Shadowheart's hand to your face is cooling and reassuring.

"lady shar teaches us to embrace our pain... but not like this. you should have known better. you could have died."

her hand slips down to cup your cheek, you cover it with one of your own. she's telling you off but you can tell it's because she cares.

"I'm sorry that I scared you." "I know. don't do it again."

she smiles and the ache in your heart is lifted, too.

Wyll

panics.

you collapse on day in camp and he immediately calls on the others for help, not so proud as to be unable to admit when something is out of his knowledge. he is not a healer. he needs help.

he manages to catch you in his arms as you tumble, hugging you close to his chest while magic is worked or a healer checks you over.

lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when you begin to stabilise.

helps you back to your tent to rest, gently chiding you but letting you know that he's glad you're alright.

when your hand weakly comes up to touch him, he indulges you in a kiss to let you know how relieved he is.

constantly watching you on the battlefield from that moment on. if he can help it, you'll never be hurt again.

Karlach

another panicker.

scoops you up in her arms and holds you to her chest, running to the tent of the nearest healer in camp - or, if you're in the city, kicking down the door of a local doctor.

begging the healer to check you over, but is reluctant to let you go. if she stops holding you it's like she's relinquishing control and that scares the life out of her.

you're healed and she feels you start to stir in her arms, peppering you with kisses of relief, choking through her tears that you're never to scare her like that again.

carries you back home, even if you're totally capable of walking. she just wants to make sure you're okay.

Halsin

sternly disappointed that you didn't tell him, but more annoyed that he didn't notice something was wrong himself. how could he not see how out of balance with nature you were?

squirrels you away to his tent to heal you, make you soothing and medicinal teas, his big hands over the source of the infection.

you burrow into his touch, into his chest, and you end up sitting in his lap as he heals you.

he wants to tell you off a little, but is more relieved that you're alright. encourages you to share all your burdens with him.

kisses you on the forehead, then on the mouth when he's sure you're strong enough for it not to knock you flat.

Dammon

my poor boy is just a blacksmith, so though he doesn't exactly panic, he does scoop you up and try to find a healer as soon as he can.

waits quietly and nervously as you are examined, silently cursing himself for being too busy to see how you were hurt. he's meant to be better than this. he's meant to love you, how didn't he notice?

when you come to he can't stop apologising, and it takes several of your kisses to soothe him and tell him it was not his fault but yours.

he makes you promise that you'll always tell him when you're hurt. has you look into his eyes and swear it.

he can't do much on the battlefield but he can protect you where he can.

Rolan

another one cursing that he doesn't know healing spells.

"you aren't meant to die, gods damn it! you're meant to be strong... what good am I if I can't keep you safe..."

rushes you to the best doctor in Baldur's Gate. pays for all the treatment that you could need. holds your hand at your bedside for your entire recovery... until you come back to consciousness, of course, at which point he just starts telling you off for being stupid enough to get into his mess in the first place.

you grab him by the collar and drag him down for a kiss. that finally shuts him up. but he never lets you forget how foolish you were.

Zevlor

practical but still worried about you.

you collapse in the field and he finds a safe place to hide the both of you from dangerous eyes, using his Lay on Hands ability to channel his magic into healing.

you try to apologise but a finger to your lips silences you, and all you can do is watch in quiet wonder as he burns the infection out with his Paladin's light.

when you're better he gently chides you. tells you that you have people relying on your leadership, and that a problem shared means there are more heads working on how to fix it.

when he sees how sorry you are lets you cuddle into him. when you say you'll repay him, he insists your happiness and well-being is enough for an old warrior like him.

does take the kiss you offer, though. he's been wanting to do that for a while...

[fictionalreads]

Could you pls do an Armando X reader angst where he shoots her instead of Mike🙈 Idk what their relationship is so you decide lol LOVE LOVE LOVE UR WORK!! I hope I make sense😭💗

AWE THANK YOU! This made perfect sense to me, and I just hope you like it.🥰 Title is from Goodbye by Victoria Monet. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog. Let me know how you guys like it.

After You, I'll Never Really Use My Heart The Same

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Reader

Fandom: Bad Boys Movies

Warnings⚠️: Angst, canon typical violence, like one or two cuss words

You’d been in love exactly one time.

You found being vulnerable, opening yourself so intimately and trusting them to accept and celebrate you as a person, difficult. Which was crazy because your job as an undercover cop meant you had to allow parts of yourself to show. The only way to truly fool someone is to stick as close to the truth as possible. You were good at it, faking the openness and trust. But maybe it being fake is precisely why you found it so easy. 

It wouldn’t mean anything.

Armando Aretas was different. He saw through the facade you’d adopted while in Mexico, working on a joint task force. He’d made his way past your usual defenses, no one else in your life ever bothering to try to truly know you as deeply as he did. It was like he saw straight through you, through all the hurt, through all the bullshit and pushed you to be the most honest you’d been in a while, even to yourself. 

The first time I love you's had been exchanged, it had been a fight. You didn’t want to admit it and he refused to let you hide and not face how you felt. You tried to tell him it wasn’t true, but he just told you he was just as afraid as you were and you could be scared together. You knew it was doomed, you were an undercover cop and he was poised to be a big name in the drug world, but you couldn’t stop it any more than you could stop a plane crash. You were meant to love him and he was meant to love you. Even if it had an expiration date.

So when the shot came, you knew exactly who had done it.

You had been waiting almost a year for him to find you and confront you. You knew betrayal was a sore topic for him so your betrayal would run deep. It would anger him and the longer he went without addressing it, the more it would fester. The longer he went without contacting you, the more you looked over your shoulder. You had signed up for this life, knowing that by showing criminals your face you were putting a target on your back, but you usually handled it well. This, like everything else with Armando, was different. You were genuinely afraid.

You had gone out to celebrate Marcus Burnett’s grandson being born. Lately you had been staying in, avoiding crowds out of an abundance of caution but Marcus had been a great mentor to you and you missed going out. After a couple drinks you felt more relaxed, even agreeing to be the endpoint in the ridiculous race Mike and Marcus were doing in an effort to prove they still had it.

One minute you were watching Mike and Marcus get set for the race and the next you were staring into the eyes of the man you loved. He had his visor flipped up, no doubt so you’d know exactly who it was that did the deed. You saw the anger, the betrayal in his eyes. You also saw the hatred that masked the love and hurt in them.

You knew what was coming next, but it didn’t help you prepare for the searing pain you felt. The bullet ripped through your chest, the feeling of fire in its wake. You watched as he watched you fall from the impact before speeding off. For a minute it was like everything had stopped. You couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anyone else. It was just you left behind like nothing. You turned your stare to the dark sky, too polluted for stars and wondered if this was the last thing you’d ever see.

Slowly, the world started to creep back into your senses. You felt the hard, cool ground beneath you. You saw the group of cops standing protectively around you, holding guns as if the attack would continue. You smelled Mike’s cologne as he hovered over you, pressing into the wound in an effort to stop the blood. You tasted the metallic blood in your mouth, knowing that was a bad sign. You heard Rita screaming, asking if anyone had eyes on the shooter.

Even in this state, you knew they wouldn’t. Armando was good at what he did, he’d be long gone by now. Oddly, you were okay with that. Despite everything, current situation included, you were glad he managed to get away. Maybe it was because if he was caught he’d tell the people you worked with the truth and you didn’t want to face their judgement. Maybe it was because you still loved him and the thought of him in a cage hurt.

By the time the ambulance got there, you were fading fast. Marcus kept telling you to keep your eyes open and you tried but your eyelids were so heavy. You were okay with dying. You were okay with this being your end, with knowing they’d never find the connection between you and the shooter. If you lived, you would have to come clean, face him again and you weren’t sure you could do that. Death was easier.

Death at the hands of Armando was forgivable.

[yolli-es]

I love jinx she’s my everything and my comfort character so I’m really insecure not even in normal insecurity like I’m on an deep level and I have a really bad eating disorder was wondering how would yandere! Jinx handle that I’m insecure about everything about me and i hide all my body I can’t eat or look in mirrors if I did I’ll break them (you don’t have to do this request I think it’s absolutely ridiculous also I’m okay I’m in therapy now)

Is it my fault? 🧊

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, mention of blood, theme of uncertainty.

Well, I was gone for quite a while, lol, but I was able to fight off the teachers and come back 💪🏻 I hope you are glad to see me again, and I also have to say that I wrote about this from my point of view, and I am sorry if I did not understand your state of mind. This topic is not so close to me, and I really tried 🙏🏻

Jinx knew from the start that something was wrong. You were always too shy, closed off, and scared. You never exposed your body. The world saw nothing but your palms and head. Is this your style? No, you always look embarrassed when your clothes suddenly ride up and just a little bit more is visible. She thought that society, all those people around you, were to blame for everything. They must have just rammed their shit into you and are enjoying themselves. Jinx won't let them trample you that easily! But nothing changes even when you become a couple and Jinx becomes your rock and protection from any unwanted contact. No, she cut you off from the world. Seeing your insecurities seemed right to her. Jinx just makes your life easier, doesn't she? You didn't change.

It seemed to only get worse.

Mirrors. It took Jinx a moment to realize you were doing this. Everything in Zaun was broken, even the people. And yet there was something strange about the mirrors in your house. She resisted for a long time and attributed everything to her new quirks. Then she counted the number of cracks on all the mirrors you could reach. And she knew. Her stomach twisted, her pupils dilated, and she wanted to pass out. No, she was going to do it right now. You were breaking mirrors. Everywhere you could reach. How could she not notice? There's blood in the cracks that can't be washed away. Damn, did you do that with your bare hand? No, no, no.

"It's my fault."

It took all her strength not to lose the last fragments of her sanity. She honestly didn't understand why. You weren't threatened, you didn't talk to anyone, and you were always under Jinx's supervision. Unless....no. She would never have affected you like that. Jinx held back then and didn't tell you anything. No matter how much Mylo screamed, Claggor was right. This would scare you; she had to act rationally now. She needs to give you time and herself time too. Jinx needs to know the real reason for your behavior. Now she will be even more attentive.

Jinx had no idea then that the broken mirrors were just the tip of a deeper problem.

You rarely dine together, usually having to eat on the run or while working. But today is a special day—your anniversary. You've been together for a year. 

Jinx bites her lip, Her nails make an audible sound as they scratch the tray with the rich cake on it. She baked it herself. But right now she's not thinking about the cake or even the anniversary. Jinx can't sleep, can't work, and even explosions don't bring pleasure. What else are you hiding? She's been watching you for weeks now after she found out about your horrible habit, but Jinx still hasn't found out anything new. But there's something else going on with you, something she doesn't know about. She feels it. Mylo chuckled. Jinx hissed. She smiled tensely before starting the conversation.

"We've been together for a long time, haven't we?" She forced herself to smile, but it came out ragged and menacing. "I mean, we're like family now. Do you consider me your family?"

Jinx, trying not to make it too obvious, leaned forward. It looked menacing. You certainly noticed it. She's just trying to keep herself together, not to give away the pressure that's built up inside her.

"Hmm, yes, Jinx, I've told you that many times! You mean a lot to me." You smiled, sincerely as always.

But Jinx doesn't believe you now. No, she just can't. Anxiety, fear, and misunderstanding are eating her up from the inside.

"Good," Jinx sat down on the chair, creaking it closer to the table. "Then let's eat."

But Jinx doesn't even try to start eating, just looking at you. A new thought flashed through her mind. Strangely, despite her obsession with your existence, she's never watched you eat.

"Are you okay? You're looking at me like that," you swallowed nervously. The atmosphere was definitely not friendly.

"Oh, sorry," she didn't even try to put on a happy face this time, "start without me."

You hesitated, looking down at the plate. Jinx carefully cut a small piece of cake and placed it right in front of you. It was fluffy, with lots of cream, and covered in food coloring. It looked beautiful and delicious. You picked up a fork and began to break it into pieces.

"So.. how's your work?" You looked up, suddenly more confident and clearly in high spirits. This confused Jinx. She responded without really thinking. Her gaze was glued to you and your hands. You didn't like it and began to distract her in various ways. This had been going on for ten minutes now, and you still hadn't put a bite in your mouth.

Jinx's eyes, which had been looking at you emotionlessly until now, suddenly narrowed in concern. And you realized. Your seat suddenly became uncomfortable, and the room was hot.

"You don't like it?" Jinx asked quietly, cautiously, almost scared. Shyness, hiding your body behind baggy clothes, breaking mirrors, and not wanting to eat your once favorite cake. Was it ever your favorite? It seemed like the puzzle was coming together in her head.

"What? Oh, no! I'm just not hungry." You were caught off guard. Is this the end? Has she figured it out, and is she going to leave you? Will she be angry or cry? You couldn't stop thinking, going over all the possible reactions Jinx might have. Unfortunately, your girlfriend wasn't stupid. She noticed it was evident on her face. The trick that worked on everyone else had no effect on her.

You can't eat. Every time you eat something like this, your conscience gnaws at you. You want to spit out everything you ate.

"I'm so sorry," was the first thing Jinx said. "I'm sorry; I should have noticed. Are you... is this because of me?" Jinx spoke softly, but there was no hint of tears on her face. There was no emotion at all. You were hurt by what was happening. Any reaction she might give would hurt you.

Jinx is about to explode with emotion. She's trying so hard to be "normal" right now so you can rely on her to open up. It's heartbreaking, but it's having the desired effect, and you're plucking up your courage.

You took a breath. This is going to be hard.

Of course Jinx thought she was just taking shitty care of you, cruelly ignoring your problems and leaving you to suffer alone.

But that's not true. You never shifted responsibility to others, realizing that you were simply insecure in yourself. You certainly met shitty people—more than you wanted. But who in Zaun pays attention to them? You just suffered from constant comparisons to others and couldn't do anything about it. You honestly fought with yourself, your shyness, and other shit that was dragging you down. Jinx only helped you along the way, without realizing it. Every time she proudly held your hand walking along the busy streets, every time she unashamedly said, "Yes, this is my future wife," and every time she ignored the advances of a conventionally beautiful girl.

Your silence and her speculations brought you here.

And yet you came to understand Jinx. How could it be otherwise? She will never let you go.

But you will never want to leave.

"Oh, I'm always here," Jinx hugged you, and you did the same in return. It was a pleasant ending after several hours of relentless altercations. You were silent, whispering, screaming, crying, and didn't understand each other. But now everything became clear.

Jinx, on her yandere side, is not ready to leave everything just like that. Now in your house there is only one whole mirror, specially stolen from Piltover. You often eat together, and Jinx tries to make each meal as relaxed for you as possible so that you simply forget about the food itself. She will definitely not let you go, love you less, judge you, or make the situation better by force. Not with this problem. She will do everything you ask to make you feel better.

Jinx loves you.

In her strange way.

That's all! I hope you haven't forgotten about me 😅 This work is quite short, but I hope I was able to convey the main points and mood.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Watching Reality TV

Requested: a request for the boys preferences, how would they react with f!reader live watching reality tv shows like Kardashian’s etc, would they love it - anon

A/N: Hope you like it my love! This was really fun to imagine :D My old roommate loved reality TV and I swear I heard so much about it it feels like I've watched it for myself lol. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher says what you watch is ridiculous, but, much like a dad who says this, he'll stand behind you and watch entire episodes. Only after it's ended does he throw a fit, claiming that was the dumbest thing he's ever seen and it's rotting your brain. When you talk about it with the rest of your friends, the latest episode or drama, Butcher is full of strong opinions and will tell you to your face this person is a c-nt and that person deserves better. You don't make a big deal out of this, though you share knowing looks with everyone else. He's not very good at hiding his interest in reality TV, but you also don't want to scare him away. You like watching it with him, you like his opinions. It's not often he shows interest in something outside of work. If this can offer a thirty-minute distraction, you're more than willing to share.

Hughie doesn't personally love it, but he would never tell you to stop watching it. He asks you questions about the people and the latest episodes. He never forgets who is who and forms his own opinions about the shows having never watched them. He likes that he can show interest in something you love. The least he can do is listen to you talk about it. When you and someone else are debating the drama and unpacking the story, he definitely shares his own ideas. He listens so carefully it's as if he actually watched it with you. If he catches you watching it, he'll sit beside you and put faces to names. He finds it incredible that his idea of these people was so wrong, yet so right. He really has nothing against reality TV and if it makes you happy, that's what matters. He uses it to bond with you more than anything else.

Annie has pretty neutral feelings about reality TV. She might watch half an episode with you, but it's just never been her thing. She's not going to pull a Butcher and make fun of you for liking it, but she's not going to go out of her way to ask you about your thoughts on the newest episode/season. It's just one of those things that aren't for her. Still, she can't deny how happy it makes you and she's glad you have some sort of distraction from all the craziness of your jobs. She makes sure not to interrupt your TV time and will pass you notes instead of distracting you, hoping it's less disruptive. When you and M.M. sit together and bond over your love for it, it can't help but make her smile. You two need this. A break from the drama and life and death for more silly drama about relationships and brands and family.

M.M. loves reality TV. He tries to never miss an episode. When he does, he's horrendous about spoilers. He will yell across the room for you not to spoil anything when you're telling Hughie about the latest drama. He acts like a child, placing his hands over his ears. You two sit together all night and binge the newest seasons. Sometimes, when it's been a while, you'll re-watch the last seasons so that when the new episodes start, you'll know what's going on. He always shares whatever snacks he's gathered and is a stickler about talking while the show is playing. If you can, he'll pause it so that you can unpack the drama. If not, you'll have to wait for commercials. Since he was placed in charge of The Boys, he's had less time to indulge in this vice. He's more lenient about spoilers which you find sad, but you do your best to give a good break down of the show.

Frenchie watches it with you, but he's pretty vocal about his distaste for their actions. If someone crosses someone or cheats on someone or gets in a fight, he's the first to be standing, yelling at the TV, throwing snacks at the screen. It always makes you laugh and more often than not you have to calm him down before watching the rest of the show. He just gets so worked up. Especially when they're doing stupid stuff that'll get them in more trouble. You've learned quite a few French swears from these tantrums. Sometimes he gets so worked up he has to walk away, watching the rest in his own time so that he doesn't disturb your enjoyment. He has so many opinions and makes it known that certain people are favored over others. He comes to their defense so fast it actually makes you laugh and defends their actions regardless of how petty or downright bad they are.

Kimiko doesn't watch it. She's not too interested in TV, but she can understand the appeal. Between you and Frenchie, she knows basically everything about the people and the plot, asking questions as if she's been watching the whole time. She loves how happy it makes you. Everyone on this team needs a healthy outlet. She noticed that your typical partner in crime (M.M.) hasn't been around to watch it and, not wanting you to feel the absence, Frenchie stepped up. If neither are around, she'll join you, working on something else that grabs her attention, but mostly she just likes the idea of just being with you. Every so often her attention will be grabbed and she'll understand why you like it so much, but overall it's more of an opportunity to just be with you. Be in your company. You don't notice this happening until it's happened a few times. It makes you feel seen by your friends, appreciated by them.

Bonus! Homelander thinks it's absolutely ridiculous. He stands behind you and will take a few minutes to watch (completely out of context) before deciding whatever show you're watching is shallow, and fake, and idiotic. He makes his opinion known of course and actively shows his disgust anytime he catches you watching it. He can't ban it from Vought Tower, though he's thought about it. Homelander doesn't watch very much TV as it is besides the news and a few select channels. Overall he thinks TV in general makes people stupid and reality TV is at the top of the list. He doesn't care how much you like it or the lore behind the stories, all he sees are six pack abs, and lip filler, and people doing dumb things to get famous. If you're talking about it with Firecracker or The Deep you know the conversation ends in Homelanders presence.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.2

George: We don't have to keep [an image] up, we just remain ourselves. Don't we, Ringo? Ringo: well, we do, I mean, it's the other two we're worried about. It's a joke about John and Paul being bigheads, but a crazy person – definitely not me – could also see it other ways if they wanted to.

Paul talking about their mutual friend when asked how they met and John telling him not to complicate it. They're so married it's ridiculous. 

Always looking at each other with every single joke. 

He looks like he's in a lovely enclosure at the petting zoo. I've always been so confused by this footage. Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on?

I LOVE that we now know Paul was cast as Thisbe and John as Pyramus and then they switched. I'm actually dying to know how and why that happened though. My first instinct was “of course. Paul was scared he'd look too convincing as a woman, so John did it for him.” But no. Paul dressed as a woman at the cavern, wore ladies lingerie in Hamburg, and wanted to do a full drag show on TV in the early seventies. So why not Thisbe?

Why do you as a man randomly bring up the color of your friend's dick while staring lovingly into his eyes?

It must be noted. They had a wonderful time playing star-crossed lovers. 

The bickering pianos are so cute! And then John (prompting Paul): and John and I . . . Paul: oh I hate this. John: will probably carry on . . . Paul: we'll carry on songwriting . . . You just know Paul didn't hear the end of that one interview answer for a long long time. And it's because John just had to hear it over and over again.

Love the editing so that Paul smacks John's ass right as the symbols crash. 10/10 A+

This iconic moment. Poor George tally number 4.

Interviewer brings up marriage and John takes a shot like he wants to forget that the whole concept even exists. Literally poor Cynthia. And not even in an “lol her husband's gay” type of way. Just in a genuine “the way their relationship fell apart actually breaks my heart because she really did love him and in his way he loved her too but they were just so thoroughly incompatible” type of way. 

Paul: makes a stupid dad joke. John: giggles gleefully and kicks his feet

I have never seen someone so disappointed that they didn't need to lend their friend a pen. Paul had his hand in his pocket before John even asked the interviewer for a pen and when the interviewer gives him one, Paul literally hangs his head like he's just been cut from the school play. I just. The obsession is frankly cartoonish. But also, he just needs to be needed, you know? How many songs does he have which conflate being needed and being loved?

The juxtaposition of Paul and John elaborately messing with the interviewer (“yes John Lenard, that's me” and “actually it's done by mirrors.”) vs George's “I don't know” and “yeah.” it's actually kind of mean editing but whatever. It is ULM not UH. Someone should make that though.

Again, John. Calm down. He's not that funny. Just look at Jimmy. That's the normal person's reaction to that joke. John is half the reason Paul has such a big head honestly. 

Paul's answer to a question about the Beatles gaining a lot of adult fans is nice. Sometimes he shocks with a bit of wisdom. Sometimes his words don't get messed up at the point they hit his throat as he says. 

What the fuck? Okay so the interviewer asks Paul what he likes in a girl, right? I've always been too distracted by Paul saying he likes a sense of humor and John doing an obnoxious fake laugh in the background because John. It's embarrassing how obvious you are. Stop.

But I never noticed Paul actually says “people”. The interviewer asks about girls and he says he likes “people - er - girls” to have a sense of humor. Huh. Okay. 

So ULM was actually what made me a serious Beatles fan and this was the first moment where I had to pause it and verify to see if what I'd just read was actually true. It really is a doozy. 

How to flirt. A guide by Paul McCartney. Step one: get your crush’s attention. This should be extremely easy. Just gesture vaguely at something you're holding. He'll be interested. Step two: do something suggestive to a phallic object. Step three: that's it. You've got him. He'll do whatever you want.

The editing in this thing truly is brutal. Just the jump cuts from a question about Cynthia to John and Paul making each other laugh to girls screaming to John and Paul unnecessarily touching to girls passed out on the ground to John and Paul desperate for each other's attention to girls waving signs to John and Paul sharing weird eye contact to girls physically mobbing them to John and Paul beaming at each other to a question about Jane. It really does drive home the immense pressure of compulsory heterosexuality back then. 

Then a question that's obviously meant to poke a nerve and start some bad feelings. “Paul. Is John the leader of the Beatles?” Easily rebuffed with “no I'm not” and “there's no real leader”. I know I'm dramatic but really it's like every aspect of that society was against them you know? And they just kind of said "fuck you, we're crazy about each other."

Question: what do they think about when they're imprisoned in their hotel rooms? John: we don't think about one thing. *Whips head to look at Paul* well, some of us do. Oh and you know that how exactly? What, do you just have a printout of his every thought? Do you keep constant tabs on his dick?

Someone give me the heterosexual explanation of that moment when John very clearly and obviously checks out and appreciates Paul's ass as he and Ringo are pretending to be cowboys. Seriously. I'm at a loss here. 

Poor George tally number six? Seven? They're asked what they'll do if England reinstates the draft. John brings up Southern Ireland. George brings up Germany. Paul and John plan their joint escape to Southern Ireland as if George hadn't even spoken. 

The choice to play “Another Girl” over that quote of John's being like ‘Paul's actually much meaner than i am’ is great. Because that's seriously such a jerk song. I don't much like Jane, honestly, but fuck, she deserved so much better than Paul. He was such a douche.  

Literally all the song choices in this are phenomenal. “Hide Your Love Away” over the montage of 60s homophobia moments? It's so genius. Saying everything without saying anything. Letting the Beatles do the talking. 

The laugh track over the cartoon is honestly so sad. Nobody asked them if they were okay with being mocked like that and they never even made a dime off it. What would that have felt like to know that your being “too close” with your best friend was a running joke on TV?

“It's only love and that is all. Why should I feel the way I do?”

[meanbossart]

do you have any thoughts on cazador as a character? personally i really loved the parallels between him and astarion & the way that the master/spawn relationship is used as an allegory for cyclical abuse. the scene with cazador’s master’s skull where you find out that he was once victimized in the exact same way that he later victimized astarion was really a lightbulb moment for me re: what vampirism represents in this game.

BOY DO I, i don't think much of it hasn't already been said, though. He's a tragic character in his own right of course, not that that takes away from the awful man he is.

Me and my boyfriend make fun of him a lot, we call him "the best BG3 character" as a little inside joke between us and come up with ridiculous scenarios of things that might have occurred throughout those 200 miserable years the spawn had under his command lol. Maybe he had a month where he was really specific about the shoes everyone wore, maybe once every other decade he had a weird week where he tried to be "nice" only to become frustrated when his efforts weren't immediately met in kind by the rightfully-terrified spawn, maybe between all the torture and horrific-ness he just did some plain weird shit like making someone crouch by in his fainting couch and wait by open-handed for grapes that he dramatically chewed on and then spat right out since he can't actually eat them lmao

And that's hysterical but I think we also started doing that because when you meet Cazador, when you first hear his voice and see his demeanor in person your immediate reaction is probably somewhere along the lines of "THIS is the clown you were so scared of, Astarion?"

And the answer is, of course, yes. This embarrassing little man stuck in a cage of his making instills fear beyond comprehension in Astarion and all his siblings. This man who undoubtedly showed all these spawn, inadvertently, the strangest, most arguably "human" aspects of himself at some point or another during these two centuries they had together is also an absolute monster. And i really like that! I think its far more effective and fitting for his story than if he was, lets say, a Ketheric type.

(this got very long so, more under the cut)

Look at Ascended Astarion in the epilogue now, for example. Everyone agrees that he's an absolute fucking dork - and I think we all also agree that he will go on to destroy the lives of many people beyond repair, especially his own, until the day he is killed.

In the topic of vampirism as an allegory for abuse, I both agree and also don't, at least not exactly - i just think it's deeper than that. I've spoken about this in another post but i find it incredibly refreshing how, to me, it seems like Baldur's Gate 3 has no interest in painting vampirism as sexy or fun past a surface level. It's a curse that nobody asks for unless put in a situation where they feel as if they have no other way out, and it shapes and haunts you for the rest of your undead existence.

Even if you enjoy its benefits at first, that has a time limit. You will see your family and loved ones die, you will see culture evolve while you stay perpetually the same. You will experience so much hurt and pain because the only thing that makes life truly sweet is knowing that it is finite, and eventually it will wear down all of your humanity. And since you can't die unless you are scorched by the sun, staked, or dismembered, you must live with the knowledge that you will never have a peaceful death - and since you won't have a peaceful death, you better not die - and if you don't want to die, you better not be weak - and if you don't want to be weak, you must seek out power at all cost and slash things like love and friendship out of your life.

And what is funny, is that in his attempt to be more like a mortal - to eat, drink, walk the sun, such incredibly simple desires - Cazador (and Astarion, if he ascends) is accidentally only drawing further away from the person he supposedly once was, because that fear of weakness has already utterly corrupted his soul.

That's quite a grim way to look at it, of course. But I genuinely think that it is the natural conclusion of something like immortality.

That's why I quite like that, even after Astarion has found happiness, even after he finds his peace, he still doesn't exactly embrace being a vampire - because It's not something he should be expected to embrace. I think it's a very unique take on the trope.

I also want to leave here this message written by his character writer, which really got me thinking about him on a deeper level since i saw it months ago. It is specifically about the sexual aspect, but I think it branches beyond it too, when you think about it.

[ruris-world]

｡･ﾟﾟ･ My sweet oblivion. ｡･ﾟﾟ･

➳ pairing: yandere!charlotte katakuri x fem!reader

➳ summary: you adapt to your new life, and your husband shows you his biggest insecurity, your reaction surprises him.

➳ content warnings: mention of previous non-con, male mastrubation, inappropriate use of devil fruit, uhh..voyeurism? dubcon,fluff, insecurity, kinda of dom!reader/ sub!katakuri, uhh, emotional breakdown [?? idk, lol ] ooc katakuri, err marriage kink?? [ i seriously don't know ], oh! a bit of a breeding kink, a smidge of a size kink [ i mean come on, he a big boii ], emotionally vulnerable katakuri doesn’t know how how to deal with feelings, a smidge of food play, I guess implied virgin!katakuri, reader is shy yet shameless, handjob, blowjob, pussyjob, no mention of aftercare, kind of rushed ending, also first time writing actual smut

➳ word count: 8.7 k [ 8,751 ]

➳ author note: i have katakuri brainrot, and he needs some love, so it's a win-win situation. also unedited and kind of a rushed ending. Please mention any warnings I missed. Inspired by this ask. English isn’t my first language, and I accept constructive criticism and any advice :)

»»———- ♡̩͙ ———-««

It has been a while.

7 months since the wedding, maybe.

you aren’t allowed out often, the few times that you are out you are attached to him, your husband, quite literally by his mochi.

you find it ridiculous, a power that is so powerful due to its user, you saw him fight once and it wasn’t a fair fight, if you could even call it a fight.

whatever…

days tend to blend in each other, especially if its spend in just one room, sure it’s a huge room even while not compared to your ‘normal’ sized body, but there isn’t one to really keep you company.

sure, servants come and go to bring you food, clean and organize, but they don’t speak

well, not to you at least

which you also find ridiculous, you find a lot of things are quite ridiculous.

the first month was spent crying, thrashing, and escaping, trying to at least, he would always find you, or one of his siblings would.

you stopped trying to escape when he emerged from a literal mirror

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the second month was just spent…existing?

you were, are scared of him, you just spent it in a haze, you guess, you don’t remember much but you do remember the time you almost caught him with his scarf off.

It was by accident really, but before you could even glimpse at what was hidden you passed out, and woke up with an aching head, and flowers with a bunch of donuts on your side of the bed.

you didn’t really care what was under the scarf to be honest, but after that incident you went out of your way to avoid him if you even thought his scarf was off.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the third month…, was when he ‘forced pleasure’ on you.

you guess he is a man after all….

he never did anything other than use his fingers, but even that was too much for you, if you would compare it, its like using a human cock.

well, that’s a lie…

he did use his cock once, just not his real one.

can you even consider a mochi finger shaped as one, a real cock?

you don’t want to think about it.

he never force himself at you, at least not in that sense, even when the budge in his leather pants looks so tight it may just burst.

he makes sure you are cleaned on clean sheets, then he gets off in the bathroom, and sometimes he doesn’t.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the fourth month, is when you got invited to his mother’s tea-party, it was…nice, to go outside that is, the party itself was chaos.

believe it or not, you tend to fall into routine once you are kidnapped and aren’t allowed to get out of the room being held captive in.

so it was a breath of fresh air when you were let out of your room, and into the tea-party, and yes his siblings are a handful, and you are scared half to death from half of them , but it’s nice.

nothing much happened during the month, you don’t expect much.

…except that one instance.

he makes sure to come back at night, no matter how late the time is, he is always back, and he always gets up early, his side of the bed messy and the distant smell of him still present in the morning.

most of the time you are asleep when he gets back, sometimes you are not.

it was in the latter end that it occurred.

it was late at night, can borderline be considered a morning, no one is supposed to be awake, but you are

you were on your side, glimpses of a well-rested sleep taunt you as the door to the room opens, you don’t get up, you already know who it is, and you’re too tired to entertain his bullshit.

when you hear him call out to you, you don’t respond.

you would’ve called yourself foolish, if not for the fact that he doesn’t use his future-something-haki when he’s with you.

evident by the time, someone walked in when he was pleasuring you, and you never saw that servant again.

there is a rustling present, and it almost lures you back to sleep, except that he calls out to you again

you are annoyed, and very much on the verge of snapping at him, but you ignore it since you aren’t stupid, that is until you hear it

“darling, fuck—j-just like that”

is he…?

he wouldn’t…

“ah—you’re s-so—shit—so good”

would he?

“mmhm, you’re—hah—so sweet f’ me”

what are you supposed to do? do you turn around? talk? pretend to be asleep? ignore?

his pants continue mixed in with a couple of curses and groans, most of them are stifled and you hate that his voice alone sends blood rushing to your face and awaken a second rhythm within you.

you shift to test the waters, he doesn’t make an attempt to stop based on his noises, maybe you shouldn’t…

you ignore that part of you that says you shouldn’t, as the ‘squelnch, squelench, squelench’ drowns your thoughts.

you just wanna see, peek at his tip, see what the obscure sound is, surely his hands and cock aren’t the only thing that can produce such sounds, and bring him such pleasure, right?

it should be fine, right?

you’re his wife, it’s ok, right?

right?

right.

you slowly shift your body, trying not to make such ruckus that you do stop him, and his pleasure from escalating any further.

‘fuck it’ you think as you lay on your other side, eyes closed and make a sleepy sound, you hope it won’t deteriorate him or the situation.

his grunts don’t last another second, as everything around you stills, and silence fill the air, the sound of your deep breaths, and his harsh ones are the only thing present, seconds pass by and then-

hands are on your head, they trail to you cheek, and you feel one of his fingers trace lines on your cheek, and then they let go.

you don’t feel or hear anything after that, and you worry that you caused him to stop, and not reach his end.

not that you should care if he does cum or not.

that thought is interrupted by the noisy sound of slapping of his skin against something that continues, only this time faster and louder.

you are afraid to open your eyes, but that fear disappears when you hear his next words

“i’m going—fuck going to b-breed, you, be -hah- be a good w-wife and take it” accompanied by a loud moan.

all caution is out the window, as your eyes fly open, and what you see leaves you breathless and dripping.

there he is, charlotte katakuri, sweet commander, cold, merciless, the perfect brother, the man who brought you here, your captor and husband, fucking his fist.

his mochi fist, that looks like a cushion and is suspiciously moving along with his hips.

you don’t dare look up, eyes transfixed on his hips moving in and out of the cushion, his cock looks so big and you can even see its imprint —despite the dim lighting— from inside the makeshift cushion, his other hand is gripping the mochi with a death-grip, and you can only imagine what his face looks like.

you hate what the image does to you.

you hate the fact that you can feel your slick drench your panties, even more and then it occurs.

“f-fu—ck!”

holy shit.

you think you can cum from the image of him cumming alone, his hips stall in their movement as he cums, his thighs tense, yet shakes, and his cum spills into and out of the makeshift cushion or fleshlight or whatever; no other thoughts enter your mind other than that you want that thing to be you.

you almost scold yourself for the thought, but then he starts moving again and he do so with a whine you can’t watch it, you wish you could but you honestly think you would cum if you would do, so you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

that night you sleep to the sounds of him panting, and wake up to the same messy sheets with no evidence of the night prior other than the drench in your pants and an almost un-noticeable tear in his pillow.

it’s also the month when he starts to become least present.

sure he sleeps at your chambers with you, but he doesn’t visit or stay or talk, not like he used to, and you find it ridiculous.

you find it ridiculous that he makes you crave his presence, you find it ridiculous that he makes you miss him, you find it ridiculous that you cry yourself to sleep twice a week because of him.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the fifth month, you snap.

he comes in one day, it's midday if you would assume, there are no clocks in your shared room so you have no way of telling, you are reading a stupid romance that can’t catch your attention, when the door open and the ‘clink, clink, clink’ of his steps appear.

you look up at him, as he shrugs off his jacket, and wanders to your shared closet.

you would have admired his back, if you weren’t so blinded with rage, you look at the mirror, think twice, shake your head then get up from your place.

you stalk towards the closet doors in the big room, and come face-to-face with his leg, oh what did you even expect?

you look up at him, as does he look down on you, he speaks first “darling? do you require anything?”

you stare, and stare and stare, a million thoughts rush into your head, a million more you want to scream at him, in the end just tears fill your eyes.

you sniff, gather all your strength and hit his leg, he may punish you but you don’t care, you are hurt.

“why did you leave?” another hit

“who do you think you are?” another hit

“you can’t j-just—just leave me like this!” another

“what? you can’t even spend time with me?” and another

“you’re so so…selfish!” another, and another and another, and then he bends down, and you break.

your eyes are closed, sobs recks your body and fills the air, your tears fall to the ground, and you probably look like a mess right now, but you don’t care.

your breath escapes in gasps, and you feel yourself being picked up, you’re so tired you can’t even yelp.

he brings you up to him, and when you open your eyes, blurry vision can barely see past his scarf, sobs, snot, tears, and even a bit of drool are falling all over his gloved hand.

god, you are so pathetic.

before you can wallow in more self pity, his other hand come to wipe at your face, and trying to save yourself from more humiliation, you go to help him, he doesn’t let you, and you don’t have the power to fight him.

your face is flushed, and you try to calm your harsh breathing that is broken by a few sobs.

once you have calmed down enough, he speaks, voice filled with an unknown emotion “I apologize darling, I hadn’t quite thought of how my actions may affect you”

you look up at him and hold his stare, after a few moments he pats your head.

you stare off at his scarf and decide to just spit it out before you chicken out “w-will you stay with me?”

his eyes soften, and you feel your heart flutter as the words “of course, my dear” are whispered into the air.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the sixth month is…messy.

your relationship is improving somewhat, there are still awkward moments, not that you are the one to blame; after all it's not like you asked to be kidnapped.

it’s the month he lets you out the most, he takes you on walks, and strolls, he combs your hair once, well at least he tried, he makes you sleep on his chest that month, you refused at first, but he didn’t care and either way you both know that you can’t do anything about it.

you think that his chest is warm and smells like mochi, and you had asked him to take you with him when he went to do his work, surprisingly he did.

he makes you a mochi bed thingy, which you quite enjoy as it is very comfortable and bouncy. You stopped asking for it though, since he would become red in the face almost every time you did ask for one, and would sometimes leave you alone in the room.

you find being left alone ridiculous.

you find the fact that you miss him, more so.

you find yourself catching feelings, the most ridiculous fact of all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the seven month, this month is…

you are in your room, getting ready for bed, he isn’t here, however you find comfort that he would be in the morning, after all tomorrow is your anniversary, and he had made sure that he got the day off, well half-a-day but it’s better than nothing.

you are in your nightgown, about to get under the covers when he enters the room, and locks the door, which he doesn’t normally do, unless he leaves you alone in his office.

something is wrong

the air around him is tense, you can tell from the frown present on his face, and the slight rigidity of his movement confirms your suspicion that something is wrong.

you are debating whether or not to ask him when he sit on the bed, you blink and tilt your head, the question lingers in the air, you ask nonetheless “is something bothering you?”

he looks at you, you hold his stare, your frown mirrors his, it deepens when he sighs, he looks to the side.

this is new, he is usually…well, straightforward, blunt.

you sit upright when he mumble a “it’s nothing”

“katakuri…, what is it?”

he looks at you, off to the side again, back at you, closes his eyes, then sighs.

“kata—”

“I may be a monster, but I will always protect you, you may find it unpleasant, many before you have, however that won’t deter my affection for you…”

you are confused as fuck.

his eyes are on you, watching you as if you’re the only one that matters, and in that instant you feel like you are.

“it’s an unsightly matter, I will not put the blame on you, if you may wish not to view.”

what the hell does he mean?

he stops, and makes his way into the bed adjusting himself so that his face is near yours, and then he continues.

“this mark of shame that is constantly on me, i will not be saddened if you may not require to view it, again…”

you can see the intensity of emotions in his eyes, and despite all the words spewing out of his mouth, you think that you can get lost in the pretty amber.

“after all it is the reminder of my failure, a-as a brother, my imperfection…”

his hands go up into his face, you feel obliged not to look away, as if you owe him this, grips his scarf with one large hand, stays there, waits.

his breathing is hard, like he has been waiting for this moment, knows how it will end.

…and in one swift movement the barrier between the both of you is broken.

his eyes scan your face, as you do the same.

you want to laugh, honestly.

scoff at his face, and laugh at him.

for thinking all of that, and making a speech over some fangs.

it’s laughable, but you don’t.

laugh that is.

what you do is scan his face, his lips are kissable, his fangs are nice, gives him a charm about him, you wonder how they feel, are they pointy? or soft? could a nip penetrate the skin? you want to touch them, no you want them to touch you.

you want to feel them, really feel them, want to kiss them, want to feel them running down your body, want them to go up and down, want to feel them between your legs, nipping at your—

his scar stretches all the way up to his ears, and you never thought a scar could looks so attractive before, you want to kiss it, every inch of it, you want to run your hand through it, you wonder if the skin feels different there? would the texture feel different than his skin, his lips? how far is he willing to let you explore him?

you intake a sharp breath, his eyes flicker to you, right now though, right now, with his heated cheeks, laboured breath and flickering eyes, he looks so, so…

“cute.”

he blinks, you do too.

a blush.

“you’re so cute, katakuri”

your hand goes to his cheek, his eyes follows.

your thumb runs over his scar, it does feel different.

not bad…, just different.

he blinks at you, you can feel the heat rising to his cheek, when you look at him, he holds your stare for no more than a second then immediately invades it, you swore you saw a glimmer of tears there.

a few more beats and breaths, his hand stops you from touching his fangs, his eyes still haven’t caught yours.

“s-stop, it’s not—you may hurt yourse—”

his words are cut off by your hum, you can almost feel his doubt, guilt, he’s nervous, anxious, and you never wanted him more.

you slip your hands out of his, you take a large hand into your tiny ones and begin pulling it towards you as your words fill the air between you both

“you don’t believe me, hm? well, you can use your whatever haki, or…”

your eyes goes up, up, up, as the hand that you captured goes down, down, down.

“you can check for yourself…”

until it reaches below your nightgown and presses his enormous fingers into the damp spot, leaves them there.

you take a deep breath, consider your choices, this man is the one who took you, forced himself on you, you feared him for the longest time, he left you alone multiple times, felt like you were abandoned, but…

his eyes speaks volumes, there are tears and disbelief present, and that speech that left his mouth still makes it so that he is open, vulnerable

you want to take care of him, eventhough….

ah, fuck it, you think and then speak.

one.

two.

three.

“…my dear husband”

he intake a sharp breath, and stills, you swear you could see his eyes darken, his fingers push where you left them, which makes a surprised moan leave your lips.

and then you pull yourself up into him, your hands are on his cheek, a few beats then he looks at you, a frown on his face.

you pay it no mind as your lips crash into his.

a beat, then another, and another, then he responds, and oh, does he respond.

its inexperienced, messy, your lips don’t mold together, but god is it satisfying.

you don’t think you have been kissed like this before, you don’t think you will ever be kissed like this again, and in that moment you don’t think you mind it so much.

at first it's slow, then escalates and escalates, and then there is tongue, and spit, and drool, and teeth, and fangs.

you find out that the fangs do break skin, well at least the ones on your lips.

a beat, and a second, then a third, your heart throbs against your ribcage, and escalates until you are almost sure that he can hear it, you want to stay there forever, trapped into an infinite kiss but alas you are a human and you need oxygen.

you pull back, he chases after you, trapping you again against him, you smile, pull back, want to tease him yet his hand pushes your head pressing into him, he wants more and more and more.

he is greedy.

he is insatiable.

he is selfish.

but only with you.

only for you.

you put your hand on his jaw, he jolts, you break free, with only a string of spit trapping you to him.

pants escapes you, making you breathe harder, and harder, he isn’t in a better state than you, in fact you would say he is in a worse state.

drool escaping from the side of his open mouth, face flushed till his neck, you can swear there are hearts in his eyes, along with unshed tears—your heart clenches at the sight.

your lips brush against his, and he almost captures you again, if not for the grip you have on his hair, one tangled in his now messy hair, another grabbing at the nape of his neck, he groans as the grip you have on him causes you to pull on his hair. 

he presses his fingers into you, both of you are playing a dangerous game.

none of you mind.

“wait, kata…lay on your back.”

his eyes that were previously glazed with a haze clear a bit, yet there is a confused frown on his face.

“huh? b-but you—”

“shh, kata, let your wife take care of you for a split second, and relax.”

“come on, katakuri…” a peck on his lips, “be a good husband and lay on your back” another peck, this time near his fangs, “let me make you feel good” another peck, this time on his nose, his eyes flutter close at the contact.

with a groan he gets off you, and lays on his back on the bed, you follow after him, straddling his heaving chest.

your hands slowly travel along his abdomen, towards his pecks, slowly trace over each nipple, lingering there and then escalate towards his neck, to his jaw which is slack open for you, his eyes continue to follow each movement as your hands stay at his jaw a bit further.

you dully note that a past you would call you ridiculous, what you are doing is ridiculous, would probably shout at you, tell you that you shouldn’t do this with your kidnapper, the man who strike so much fear inside you, the man who hurt you for far too much, that you should hurt him just as much, and even if it was a lie call him ugly, disgusting, a monster.

you leave that part behind you whenever you press your lips to his jaw, trailing pecks over there, he jerks in your hands, you guess he is pretty sensitive there.

you hum, with a smile, and whisper in his ear “what’s wrong kata? did i hit a spot?” he shudders in response, and you get more wet at the thought that a man so big, powerful, and beefy is reduced to a shuddering and blushing mess with just a few touches.

Katakuri has no idea how to feel, or process the situation before him.

He didn’t expect your response in a million years, and the mere thought that you not only said those words but continued to mark him with your wet kisses and wandering hands makes his head spin.

and while surprise and bashfulness full him and heat his cheeks at the way you called him your husband—the tone, the hidden emotion, and the way you looked at him—he can’t deny that it turned him on, immensely.

perhaps he should feel more grateful for you and your reaction, however he can’t help feeling that maybe you do deserve to feel some level of disgust at viewing his face, that maybe you should have screamed, or that maybe you should have—oh

“Fuck”

“Hmm? now tell me dear husband of mine—” he almost whines “—where have i lost you”

he flushes more under your gaze that captures him feels like it will swallow him whole, it's lustful and full of want, he duly notes the effect you have on him, and that a past him wouldn’t be so appreciative that he is allowing himself to be weak and vulnerable.

but that’s ok.

because the past him doesn’t have you around.

because the past him doesn’t have you kissing down his tattoos.

because the past him doesn’t have you whispering hushed praises about him.

because the past him doesn’t have your lips kissing and licking down his body.

because the past him doesn’t have you willingly blushing and fumbling as you ascend his body.

because the past him doesn’t have you, just you, so tiny, and exposed to him.

his hands flex at his sides as you kiss down his happy trail, leading you to his prominent bulge that's straining against his leather pants.

you hum and look at him through your lashes, his breath catches in his throat, god he’s so weak for you, its almost pathetic.

Almost.

your tiny fingers go to his belt, trying to free him, yet as you fumble with the skull on his belt, his hands come to join you, he’s hesitant, you note “can you help me?” you encourage him and the blush is consistently increasing down his neck as he whispers a “yes”

you let go and watch in fascination the way his hands quickly and masterfully unbuckle his belt, then proceeds to remove his pants, your hands flies to his, “take those off too” you motion to his gloves.

he nodes then does as he is told, and you inspect them, you know how they feel, but seeing every little detail in them? appreciating how his hands are much bigger than yours? how are his fingers longer? knowing they could reach spots you never dreamed of experiencing?

god, they were pretty, looked calloused and rough, like they have texture, and the veins that ran down them, you could drool.

your thighs unconsciously rub against each other to gain some friction, but you remind yourself that this isn’t about you, it's about him.

“kata, kata, you’re so pretty..”

his closes his palms at that, and flexes them open, you can’t help it, your hands go to grab his fingers and bring them to your lips “can i?”

“yeah.” he says the word breathless, and you don’t wait a second before you put two fingers into your mouth, both of you groan at the contacts. Your hands goes to hold his hand and guide more of his fingers into your wet cavern, you suck on them and run your tongue under them, as response he presses on your tongue, weighing it down, you moan at the feeling, dragging his fingers backwards and forth, a few more times until you feel harsh breaths blowing into your face, you open your eyes that you haven’t even realised you closed, to meet amber ones.

Katakuri’s eyes were wide blown, watching the way your mouth sucks his fingers off like its a cock, and the way you seem like the simple act of having his fingers in your mouth has brought you pleasure, he couldn’t help it, he normally has enough self-restraint, but it was like his fingers had a mind of their own.

you are taken aback by the taste of a mochi-like substance that suddenly erupts in your mouth, and you stare at him yet find his gaze distracted at the way his fingers escape your mouth to make the liquid dribble down your chin and into his leather pants.

You swallow what you could of the liquid, and he watches with eyes of a predator as it gobbles down your throat, you lose yourself for a moment in his face, and once again you are captured by the beauty of the man infront of you.

Katakuri can feel the heat of your cunt on him, and the realization that he is the one who got you all hot and bothered turn him on more than he cares to admit, he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, and when his eyes flicker to you, he is stunned by you for a second, and just when he is about to be captured in your spell again its broken by your small “hi”, and he thinks you never looked more adorable than this, so flustered and tiny, cute little gasps escaping you, and the way you keep fidgeting around.

“Hey” his voice rumbles, a rare smile crossing his face, and the giggle that you let escape warms his heart a bit more.

The wholesome moment is yet again interrupted, by the gasp he lets out as you adjust yourself directly into his bulge, and the shocked expression, followed on by the smirk on your face lets him know that he’s in for real.

You continue your previous actions, and pull down your kata’s pants, he helps you by raising his hips and then continuing to pull them down further down, and yet again you are infatuated with the man below you. The way his thighs are flexing and twitching, they looked so muscular and you find yourself wanting to bite them, kiss them, and worship them, yet the only thing that you find more delicious is the way the now much larger bulge is wet, you’re not even sure if a man can spare that much pre, without cuming.

You wont lie, you are intimidated by his size, that isn’t fully revealed, yet you find yourself strangely aroused, you’re not even sure why, thus before you can back out, you pull down his boxers, and your jaw drops.

The way he almost slaps your face as he springs up, only to be hung down by the sheer weight of him, the way he has veins running up and down his shaft, the way he is continuously twitching and the way he throbs, the angry red tip that is all but leaking delicious pre, all that and more makes a second rapidly fast heartbeat in you awaken, and all you can think is that you want him i– no.

you need him inside you.

“Darling, y-you don’t have to do this if you–oh fuck” he is cut off by your mouth leaching on his tip, and sucking on him, you can’t fit him inside you, yet you hollow your cheeks and push more of him into you.

Katakuri is convinced he has died and ascended to a heaven-like place for monsters like him, not only is he feeling toe-curling pleasure, he is receiving it all from you, and katakuri has never felt more loved as he does now.

Laying on his back, with you pleasuring him, and both of you having such a vulnerable yet intimate moment, he would have never imagined this the day that you came into his life, not by the way you reacted at first, screaming and thrashing all around.

No, he was fully prepared to live all his life loving you while you hated him and despised him, you are his everything, and as he gasps at the way you littered him with kisses, all wet and sloppy, he can swear that he has never felt more loved and in love than in this moment.

You lick up the pre from the underside of his cock all the the way to his tip, where you kiss it, before smearing some on your lips, you lick your lips as you watch the way your hands continue to pump him, he’s so big, both your hands can’t even fit around him.

“You taste so good kata, like mochi” you giggle at the sound that escapes him at that statement, before going back to licking and sucking him, one hand goes to his balls, while the other sneaks its way to rub at your embarrassingly wet panties.

You close your eyes shut, as you hear the few groans that he lets out, his mouth otherwise covered by his hand, you would have told him to let you hear him, if you couldn’t feel that he was close.

You try your best to relax your throat, its painful you won’t deny but you know you will be rewarded with the sight of him cumming, so you push through, you force your muscles to relax, to fight the discomfort, you bring both hands to stroke his twitching length, you try what you know, your drool and his previous pre helps serve as lube.

Your eyes snap to him, intent on watching him climax, katakuri’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his mouth is covered by one hand, drool escaping the side of it, his other hand gripping the pillow beside his head so hard that you worry about it for a moment, yet the best treat of all is his eyes, rolled to the back, and if the light focused just right you could see the tears mark down his flushed cheeks.

it’s all too much for you, and yet it proves the same for him as his hips suddenly jolts, with a keen moan–more like a whimper of your name–and then he cums, it’s sweet, yet thick and is too much, your eyes water trying to swallow as much as you possibly can, however it proves futile as after a few seconds you’re getting off him, choking and gasping for air, you try to get your breathing under control, and when you do, it’s when he just finished cumming.

Katakuri does not recall what happened the moment his orgasm has him, all he know is that the pleasure was too much, and then he was seeing stars, he barely registers the sound of choking, nothing but pleasure that he never has felt before registers in his veins, it’s as if every fibre of his being is experiencing it, and he thinks he passed out for a few moments, he cannot recall.

All katakuri knows is that by the time his eyes are opened again, he feels at easy yet so ridiculously sensitive for the first time in his life he doesn’t have the words to describe how he feels, only that he was feeling an after-glow of pleasure he can’t comprehend however that was contracting the look on your face, your eyebrows are crossed in a frown, and you had your hands holding the side of his face.

your thumb rubbing his cheek, which was a weird sensation, not unpleasant…just different; he feels exposed, like he is showing something meant to be a secret to everyone and everything around him, yet he never more close to you than at that moment, and he quite liked that, he liked having you and him alone, intimate, vulnerable together, to be able to indulge in each other like this has to be a blessing, or divine intervention to have an angel like you gifted to him.

“You’re drooling, kata”

He didn’t think he had the energy to blush even more, nevertheless you prove him wrong once again in the same night, yet the sound of your laughter makes it worth the temporary embarrassment, without him noticing a smile stretch into his face, he feels safe and content with you.

But then he remembers, “darling?”

“Kata” he can hear the smile in your voice, he takes both hands in his, and your smile flatters a bit, “what’s wrong? Did you not like it?”

He shakes his head, before pressing his lips to your palms, he’s careful not to graze you with his fangs. “No, i did, i enjoyed it quite a lot, frankly”

“Then what's wrong, do you-”

“Darling, rest, i just…”

“Hm?”

“Well, i–you, i want to return the favour…i need to make you feel good” he feels like a fool, stumbling over his words like that.

“...you don’t have to do that”

“No, I want to, I need to bring you pleasure, as the one you have brought upon me, only if you are comfortable with that too. darling , do you want this?”

“Yeah” it's breathless, the way you say it, just like he previously did and the way your lips are, it’s like every movement you make is to tempt him, tease him, it feels like a trap, and even if it was, he would gladly fall into one, if it's for you but now, now he wants to kiss you.

So he does.

You’re surprised for a moment, and he thinks that he did something wrong, before you respond back, with the same intensity. It's passionate, full of electricity and emotion, it's like two lovers have met after a long time. It's pleasant, but then it’s not. It quickly escalates, until it’s all drool, teeth and tongues clashing with each other, it’s like taking a bite out of a forbidden fruit, something that you know is wrong yet feels good, too good, both of you want more, so more you take of each other, until the moment you can’t go longer with oxygen is reached.

God, this must be the millionth time you kissed him tonight, yet you can’t get enough; you want to makeout with him forever, his lips are addicting, and the way his fangs feed that addiction is unmeasurable.

Somehow during that process katakuri managed to get rid of your nightgown, you don’t even notice until you feel one of his hands creeping up your back, and that sends signals down your spine.

The way his fingers are delicately running up and down your back, and fiddling with the strap of your bra leaves goosebumps down their path that you are sure he can feel, you would be too occupied with the thought of that if it weren’t for his lips that are moulding against yours.

You let out a gasp that is swallowed by his tongue, as he manages to get you out of your bra, he keeps a hand on your hips, holding you still with one and the other one goes to your cheek pulling you away but not before ending it with a peck on your lips, you try to deepen it drunk off the taste of him but he doesn’t let you, instead he chuckles at the whine you let out and the sound goes straight to your core.

“patience, pretty…” his voice is sharp, deep, and sends tingles all over your body, the ability of his voice and the entirety of him that has a hold on you can’t be denied any longer, no matter what you try it always catches up to you.

katakuri ‘s thumb rub over your bottom lip, teasing you, everything stalls for a moment, it's like there’s only you and him, he looks majestic like this, almost heavenly, the way his amber eyes are gazing at you, almost devouring you, and then the cold air hits you, and you realize your bra has abandoned you, almost instantaneously his eyes widen with an emotion your brain cannot decipher.

Your hands go to cover yourself, suddenly feeling shy and bashful under his intense gaze, he doesn’t say anything for what felt like forever, until he grasps both of your wrists in one broad hand, and rubs circles into the back of your hand.

The other hand still trapping you against him, almost like he needs you two to be close, intertwined with each other, desiring you, becoming selfish and indulging himself for once, and yet he will be selfish, if it's with you, never once daring to think of a warm embrace, a chance to rest, to be vulnerable with no judgement, he needs you, and you need him. It’s a simple fact, yet one that seems as a sin, and yet, yet…if a monster like him is to be able to serve you, bring you pleasure, will it be less of a sin?

“Darling, don’t hide from me..” he sounds almost hurt, as if the mere thought of you thinking you’re undesirable brings him pain, as if you’re anything less than perfect, the mere thought of you not seeing yourself as he sees you, not being treated like you deserve to be makes a flame lit inside of him, he needs to show what he sees through his eyes when he dares lay his gaze on you, and he starts by pulling your hands away.

The hand on your hips brings you further into his chest while the other lets go of your hands, not before placing a kiss on each of them, your hands land uselessly into his pecs, as his mouth graze the tender flesh on your breast, hesitantly he begins placing kisses there before taking a nipple into his mouth, the euphoria you feel from such a simple act causes your hands to press down on him, and such a simple act makes you feel a heartbeat raising under your touch.

He gains courage the longer he keeps nursing on you, one hand is already playing with your other nipple, teasing you as he rolls it in-between his fingers, he’s good at this, almost too good. A choked moan escapes you at a particularly hard twist accompanied by sharp fangs scraping your skin, it’s too much and yet not enough, your hands somehow found their way into his hair, pulling at him, and you feel rather than hear the growl that follows your actions.

“katakuri, please” your voice comes out more pathetic than you would like, yet you don’t have time to dwell on it, as he releases the bud from his mouth with a ‘pop’.

He leaves a wet kiss into your other nub before whispering against it “no one else likes seeing me like this” Your hands grips his hair harder, pulling him away from your chest, his eyes unhoded and hazed with lust takes a moment to adjust to yours, ignoring the way his saliva and cool air makes your nipples stand hard you took in a shaky breath to arrange your thoughts.

“…stop” you don’t know what else to say, this is the same man who kidnapped you, and took you by force, and yeah sure your feelings for him developed into something, but it’s complicated.

it’s within your right to be upset at him, you should curse him and after all the things he had done to you, be ingratiated to be within his vacenitg yet you can’t bring yourself to do it, you look at him and his eyes stare back at you.

There it is again, that look in his eyes, it makes you want to scream, why? why? why?

You can feel tears brim near your eyes, he blinks at that once, twice, “stop, just stop!” it comes out more than a sob than you would like, yet you can’t do anything about it, you don’t want this, you don’t—

Katakuri’s lips are on yours, his knuckles brushing against your cheeks, other hand on your back, pushing you more into him, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle, connected, pulling away just to whisper sweet nothings against your lips, apologizes spill from him, and continue doing so as his kisses trail down your jaw and into your neck, his fangs scraping along them, neither painful nor pleasurable, just applying pleasure.

You gasp as wet kisses are being planted into your collarbone and descending further downwards, yet not fast enough, large large hands busy themselves by pushing you into him, other hand hovering on your thighs, hesitant, before grabbing a handful of them.

“kata, please…” It's amazing how a couple of words can make your husband snap, as soon as these words are let out into the air, his grip on you tightens where it can almost be considered painful.

He drags you closer to him, and the feeling of countless hard years of training runs deliciously against your clothed cunt. Your moan is wet and full of sound as the first real friction of the night is received by you. Familiar fingers push your ruined panties to the side before proding against your entrance, they move slowly coating themselves in your juices before plunging into you.

The wanted touch of his makes your back arch, and suddenly your back hits the mattress, and his mouth is on your nipples again, it’s all too much stimulation, the way his fingers is constantly moving in and out of you, the way his tongue leaves marks and kisses everywhere, the hold he has on your hip bone preventing you from running away from his ministrations.

Too much.

Too much pleasure, it's almost painful.

And yet.

Yet you want more.

Need more.

Your thoughts are in a jumbled mess, and it takes way more effort than you would care to admit to speak, still you do; because as his desire for you is insatiable, so is yours for him.

“W-wait, wait, please stop!” his hands stall almost immediately, he detaches his lips from your body, and his hand is again in your cheek rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, which you lean into, before meeting his gaze.

It’s full of worry, his brows furrowed, a pout on his flushed lips—really all of him is— before asking in a whisper, as to not startle you “are you alright, darling? have I gone too much? Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

You feel bashful under his gaze, and the way he is so concerned for you, you try to regulate your breath, but you want it so bad, need it in you. “Hah- god no…no, no, I-I wanna cum on your cock…”

“Darling.., I–We can’t…”

Katakuri feels bad for the frown on your face, he doesn’t want to deny you it saddens him and as he watches a frown settles on your face, your lower lips wobbles, it pains him to see you like this and he is ready to apologize again, offer you another option to bring you pleasure as the one you brought him, yet his thoughts are interrupted again by you.

“We– you don't have to put it in…” your voice is small, mumbled but he is sure that he had heard you, he is confused for a moment before you say again, your voice wavering “you.., I can just rub it against me..” your hands immediately goes to your face.

He doesn't say anything, too stunned to say anything, his mind is running around trying to figure out how that will be possible.”We–we don’t have to do it…it’s ok, just forget I said anything” God, he really is terrible at this whole thing, however he won’t let his inability to express himself to you get in his way.

“Yes.” you sniffle and peek between your fingers to look at him “Whatever you want, just show me how to please you and I will.” The way he says those words makes your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You whine as he pulls your hands away from your face, he kisses them as an apology, before his breath hits your face, “whatever you want…” he whispers, so genuine and full of emotion that you almost burst out crying, but you don’t, and the only thing that manages to slip out of you is a tiny “uh-huh”

He pecks your lips, and looks at you expectantly “lay back” he does as he is told, slowly manoeuvring his way so he is sitting with his back to the headboard. His cock is semi hard, laying on his stomach twitching every other second.

Katakuri watches you intently as you fix yourself on top of him, keeping a hand near your hips to support you whenever you need it.

Your hands go to grab his cock, coaxing a bead of pre from him, his groan makes you clench, impatiently wanting to have him against you.

“Hah, you can touch katakuri, help g-guide me” you say breathing harshly, it’s not like you can go around his whole length by yourself, you need some form of assistance.

His hands grab your hips, thighs spreading widely to accompany his size, helping you align yourself with his cock. Your clit is swollen and twitching, desperate for some sort of stimulation, his precum serves as lube mixing in with both of your juices.

Your hands are on his abdomen searching for stability before you make contact with him, an embarrassingly large moan a result of that

The drag of him feels heavenly, your eyes don’t tear away from the sight of where the both of you are mixed, your lips are spread open, you can feel every vein on his shaft, every throb of him, the entirely of him, you slid easily against him, the pre of him helping you in accomplishing that.

Your breathing is harsh, biting your lips to conceal your moans before wet lips press against yours, you gasp unsuspecting of your husband's actions, before reciprocating trying to shove and mold your tongue against him

He pulls away just just for you to chase after him missing the familiar warmth, he doesn’t let you, capturing your jaw in his hands, cupping them before breathing into them, you’re practically breathing each into each other and sharing the same breath.

“Please…” you’re not above begging and thus you find yourself with a thumb in your mouth and his dark voice whispers into your ear “don’t hide, darling, speak to me, let me hear you…” you don’t think, you just nod, desperate to have him against you again “i need to hear you say it darling…”

“I-I won’t hide…just please” He can never deny you, your head is thrown back yet you can feel his gaze on you, moans escape both of you—an indicator and reassurance of the pure bliss and ecstasy you both are feeling.

He guides your hips making you feel the drag of your clit, so puffy and desperate against his cock, feels like paradise to you, the only thing that would feel better is having him inside of you—but that’s for another time.

You’re enthralled to have him like this, countless nights you have been spending thinking of a moment like this, with him, charlotte katakuri.

Your husband.

You can feel the coil in your stomach reappearing, you won’t last long—that you know, yet as you look down on your panting husband you feel the need to hold off your orgasm a bit longer, in hopes of seeing him cum.

His face is concentrated, and all scrunched up, the warmth of your cunt against his frustrated cock is nothing like he had imagined, and he distinctly notes that he can’t go back to a mochi cushion after feeling you since he can never replicate the feel of your pussy, something so divine.

Any sense of rationality katakuri has disperse as he hears your voice, high pitched, whiny and desperate—so heavenly to him “I’m gonna cum, please, wan’a cum, fe—ah!—feels good”

Your hands dig into his skin, and his speeds up, frustrated desire accompanies him, intent on watching you unfold before his eyes, he can feel his end too, never imagining something like this could feel so good.

“Go ahead and let go” and just like that with a broken moan the coil in your stomach snaps, it feels beyond heavenly to be rewarded after such a long time, and katakuri keeps you upright with a hand while the other still stimulates you, makes you ride off your orgasm and he keeps going even your orgasm washes over you in waves, it’s too much stimulation for your brain and body, no coherent thoughts are present in your body “too much, ‘s moree pleaseee….”

“Fuck.” with a curse word that seems too improper for your husband, he manages to cum for the second time of the night, semen splattering all over his stomach, his grip on your is the only thing keeping you stable from falling into his heaving chest.

The afterglow of your orgasm basks you into sleep, you’re sure when you wake up in the morning your body will be filled with bruises and an ache in your muscles, but you can’t seem to focus on that with the way your husband’s voice lures you to sleep, baking you and consuming you whole.

“Darling, you did so good, I didn���t hurt you, did I? Was I too rough? Do you require a—“

“Mhmm, want you..please, don’t leaveee…”

“Never.”

“Mhmm”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

current status: unedited

©ruris-world 2022 — do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate my works to any platform! reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated

[audinosaur]

Please tell me more about the kyoutani and Yachi stepsiblings headcanon? I'm obsessed with thia concept

OF COURSE!! so glad u asked, this headcanon fills me with joy <3

‣ ok so in my mind madoka (yachi's mom) began dating kyoutani's dad while yachi was in middle school and kyoutani was starting high school

‣ and they technically don't get married until their kids have graduated high school, but kyouyachi still refer to each other as step siblings before it's official regardless

‣ yachi was TERRIFIED of kyoutani when she first met him omg. he had his default glare on his face and his hands were stuffed in his pockets and poor little hitoka was just internally panicking the whole time

‣ little did she know that kyoutani was equally as terrified (albeit for a very different reason, he was worried about making a bad impression, scaring off both hitoka & madoka and leaving his dad heartbroken)

‣ however! this nervousness faded when yachi saw kyoutani's phone background (a cute picture of his cute dog) and she, of course, had to show off her own (a silly picture of her silly rabbit) (bc if anyone were to have a pet rabbit it would be yachi)

‣ once they started talking about their pets the conversation flowed easily!

‣ yachi got kyoutani hooked on all her favorite girly kids shows, so now whenever anyone brings up sailor moon or winx club he perks up bc he knows the lore

‣ in return, he imparts all his eyeliner wisdom onto her

‣ i've mentioned this before but they edit some of their baby photos to make it look like they grew up together. then they'd give the photos to their parents as an anniversary present goof

‣ they rant to each other about crushes all the time!!! they related to one another on being enamored with someone unattainable that they greatly respected (kiyoko and iwaizumi)

‣ yachi has also heard all about how much yahaba pisses kyoutani off and has made countless jokes about how "you talk about him so much you might as well be in love with him lol"

‣ cue kyoutani turning into a blushing wreck of denial and yachi clutching her pearls like a scandalized aristocrat (she teased him relentlessly for months to come)

‣ kyoutani got her back when he properly introduced her to kanoka and realized yachi already had a massive crush on her

‣ additionally, kyoutani has proofread thousands of texts from hitoka to amanai (bc she needs to be double, triple, quadruple sure that it is "the best message to send" and makes her sound "cool" and not like "a desperate loser who wants to kiss amanai on the mouth")

‣ the kyoutani's are more quiet and relaxed compared to the anxious yachi's. kentarou & his dad really mellow out hitoka & her mom

‣ they go thrifting together all. the. TIME! literally one of their favorite pastimes is to try on ridiculous clothes and make up stories about who the previous owner was

‣ when kyoutani got his drivers license he automatically became yachi's chauffeur. his car also became "their" car as she began to leave some of her things in there and add her own hitoka flair (ie. a crochet bumblebee hanging from the front mirror)

‣ speaking of crochet!! yachi is such a crafty girl and she 100% crochets a bunch of things for kyoutani. namely she crochets little accessories and clothing items for his dog :)

that's all for now! these 2 are both such wonderful and interesting characters individually, so imagining their dynamic together is even more wonderful and interesting!!

[melonteee]

How do you feel about people who judge one pieces worthiness to be watched by the fact that all the women have big tits? Some people literally refuse to watch it for that reason alone and I think that's..kind of sad? Like I understand where they are coming from to an extent. (I must admit when I first watched, i thought it was very unnecessary) but over time I've actually grown to not mind/even like it LOL because I realized that it literally doesn't take away from anything at all. Unlike other anime. Which tends to take characters out of their own characterization just to give a boob to face gag or panty shot. But one piece doesn't do that?? And I was honestly kind of shocked. (I mean besides nami seeing ussop again after the time skip, but I thought that was fucking wholesome as hell) I would do the same thing to ussop LOL i say this as a fellow lesbian with big tits (like nami) who also wants to walk around half naked but can't because people are scared of the titty 😔

One Piece's style is so interesting because Toei do amp it up, but when you read the manga...Oda's style is like, ridiculous, but his women really do NOT look that bad. Like take this cover for example

Yes the waists are tiny and some of the boobies are boobying but is it...really THAT ridiculous looking??? I don't think there's anything bad about it at all apart from the fact the bodies are just the same, but it doesn't feel hyper sexual in any extreme way. While I do wish there was variety, the style doesn't make me jerk back in disgust.

Of course there are some panels where he DOES go a bit crazy with it, but it's nothing compared to what Toei does sometimes. But, as you said, Toei's fanservice is very minimal. We don't get out of place, weird panty shots or anything - at most we just get like...underboob LMAO.

Maybe I'm just super used to the style of One Piece now, as you also are, anon, but I do think Toei's ridiculous proportions is one of the reasons One Piece has SUCH a bad rep with it's women on a visual level. Because another example is Viola and this famous scene:

Like ??? Viola looks FINE in the manga, the proportions are whacky but not grotesque. Unlike the Toei version...which is where I can see why people judge watching it on the style alone LMAO

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

S/O stays home alone because skeleton has to go get groceries. It's still early in their relationship so they didn't met skeleton's brother yet. When Skeleton comes home, their brother is tied on a chair and it's pretty visible S/O knocked them out with a pan, that they're still holding menacingly in case their brother wakes up lol. Their brother came to visit but didn't bother to knock at the door, which resulted in this situation.

Undertale Sans - His soul misses a beat when he sees his baby brother completely unconscious, but turns out he's fine. Sans doesn't find this very funny at first, but once he has the whole story, he can't stop smirking. This is ridiculous. Poor Papyrus never saw what hit him luckily and he's just so confused when he wakes up taped to a chair. Sans can't never stop teasing him after this. More scared than hurt. Luckily Papyrus has thick skull.

Undertale Papyrus - OMG?! What did you do? He runs to his brother and starts to shake him like a coconut to wake him up lol. Poor Sans is not sure what's going on when he wakes up with the headache of his life to Papyrus shaking him in every direction. Actually, he's pretty sure he's going to be sick.

Underswap Sans - He looks at you in complete disbelief. See, he can understand you knocking him out for no reason, but Honey??? The poor guy doesn't even have any survival instinct. Why did you knock him out? You know that if you stare at him long enough he will just leave right? Added to that, that probably won't help him warm up to you lol.

Underswap Papyrus - He can't say he's surprised. Blue often makes that impression on people. Usually, either you love him at first sight or you want to bonk his head. He guesses you're on the bonk-a-Blue team then. He's not mad, you just had the common Blue experience honestly.

Underfell Sans - Oh shit. He's both very impressed and very horrified. Did Edge see your face? Because if he saw your face, he doesn't know how to tell you that you're going to pay that very much as soon as he wakes up lol. But at the same time... The temptation to draw mustaches on his face while he's out... Well, you know what? He draws the mustache, you start the car, and then you both escape the town before he wakes up and realizes!

Underfell Papyrus - Edge smirks seeing his brother in such a ridiculous situation. He can't say he's surprised actually. But that's a sight he didn't expect to see today for sure. He's very entertained right now. So entertained that he's actually going to do nothing about it. No, he just sits, pretends he doesn't know Red, and waits for what's next lol.

Horrortale Sans - He comes home to see poor Willow cornered, desperately trying to calm you down and talk to you, as you're bouncing to try and hit him behind the head with your pan. Uh. What? Oak is so confused about what's going on. Because he feels like he has to protect his S/O but also he needs to protect his brother and somehow his brain can't figure out how to do both at the same time? So he's just standing there, growling at nothing. He's not even looking at the both of you. He's staring at the wall. And growling?

Horrortale Papyrus - Willow gives you the disapproving stare, then snatches the pan from your hand, then starts to lecture you about asking who they are to strangers first and then hitting them with the pan after. Use your brain and do things in a logical order, god dammit. Thank Asgore Oak forgot who you are the second he woke up, so confused about what just happened.

Swapfell Sans - Oh well. He's not going to defend his brother on this one. Nox kinda figured he played with the limits too much and found out, which is definitely good for his gigantic ego sometimes. He simply sits in the couch with a cup of coffee and watches as you start to interview Rus, who is begging Nox to do something. Nox has no idea who that man is in the chair, obviously. Keep going, please.

Swapfell Papyrus - He struggles to keep his composure as he takes photos """to show the cops""" and definitely not to keep as a forever memory on his phone. Nox is awake now, staring into his brother's soul with so much anger Rus is pretty sure he would be atomized if he wasn't tied up like that. You're not sure what's going on between these two but you have a feeling Rus is not telling you everything about the intruder. Nox will have full resentment against you for years after this though lmao. He already decided he doesn't like you.

Fellswap Gold Sans - Uh oh. Wine is not pleased with what you did to his now completely traumatized little brother. Poor Coffee is screaming his brother's name, desperate, trying to escape the chair he's prisoner on. You're confused, but since Wine starts to act like a scary freak, you let the other skeleton go. Coffee won't say a word to you for a good three months after that accident, and he won't stay alone in the same room as you for an entire year lol. Wine will forgive pretty quickly though.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Are you crazy? What is wrong with you? Wine is going to kill you! Coffee is panicking because sure, it's impressive you managed to knock Wine out, but you don't know who he is and what he can do. To protect you, he decides to lock you up in his wardrobe until he can talk to his brother and convince him you didn't just try to murder him, which is going to take a few hours lol. Wine is icy with you after that, and it's pretty clear he's taunting you to have his revenge. He patiently waits. For Coffee to not be in the room anymore. You're terrified.

[itsblasttothepast]

I live to provide so: The Chestappen kids in order from olders to youngest:

Pato - He's the oldest of the group and at first he was only Checo's but when Max tried to win Sergio over Patricio was his source of knowledge about Mexico. Sergio is proud of him (even though he works with McLaren) and Max treats him more like a buddy than a son (shameful, Sergio can't be the bad cop all the time), Pato admires them both but likes Sergio more;

Yuki - Adopted by both but it was Sergio's idea - he wanted to protect the kid that reminded him of Kamui from whatever RBR could do and he made Max invested too so they'll have more power against Marko's racist ass. Yuki doesn't mind them babying him a little (Checo gives him food and Max is fun to argue with so it's all good) and doesn't really care;

Logan - Sergio took him in because who wouldn't fall for that helpless kicked puppy look and Max didn't really have a say in that (Checo was angry with him and he wanted to win favours); they supported him through the pains of being in Williams and offered advice after he was dropped from the team;

Oscar - unofficial chestappen kid, he would want to be one but the team wouldn't let him; Sergio likes him and treats him well but Max isn't sure how to feel about that - he can admit Oscar is a good driver but doesn't like how he talks to Checo (or about Checo with Lando);

Liam - the first legitimate chestappen kid, he wants to be like Max but also admires Checo. Sergio wishes him all the best and swore to himself that he wouldn't let RBR hurt him (not possible to do but well) and Max is a bit sad for Daniel but he's proud of his son;

Hamda - she's definitely Max's favourite, she's happy with the unofficial family - Sergio makes her laugh and Max helps her improve; she kind of willed herself into the chestappen group but neither minded; (she has Sergio's character and wit so Max is a little scared of her);

Franco - that's the golden child, in Sergio's eyes he could do no wrong and he knows how to play his cards well and get the older man on his side. A bit cheeky but fun. Max was jealous at first but now he thinks Franco will be a great driver and Checo is completly enamoured with the kid - he will bite if anyone hurts him;

Ollie - stolen from Charlos = they were going through their divorce era, now it's good but Sergio refuses to let him go back (he wants to avoid future drama after Abu Dhabi, or so he says), Max likes him enough but this is the moment he started to be concerned about Checo's adopting habit - he tries to be firm but Ollie and Sergio's puppy eyes broke down his defences - now the little red driver is part of their family.

Kimi - while he is not yet a part of the family and Toto is trying his best to ensure Sergio won't have the chance to adopt him, there is no way the baby driver won't be in the chestappen flock as soon as he is in F1 fully - he's skilled - something Max likes - and he's determinated - something Sergio adores; in short - he will be the youngest Chestappen baby before we can even realise what's going on;

I know this is ridiculous but it was fan to imagine (since I don't want you to get any hate for my delusions I'm gonna state - IT'S JUST FICTION SO PLEASE TREAT IT ACORDINGLY)

:)

(I also have some OC children if you want to hear about that lol)

Anon, you have opened my eyes! I mean, I know Checo adopts every rookie in the paddock, but you are so right in how everything went down!!

First, of course Pato has to be the oldest! (although I differ and think it's both, Checo's and Max's, he looks just like them!!). Pato being in McLaren is such a sore spot, but Checo loves him anyway, and Max is trying to be the cool dad.

Yuki is their baby, the first rookie they adopted together, and Checo felt he owed this to Kamui. He's so spoiled, so this is why he sometimes is just a brat and also a little ball of fury.

Logan hurts, Checo tried hard to protect him, I mean, they had been chatting in the drivers' parade lately, but Checo and Max will support him no matter what (when he gets in Indy, they will fight to see who they will support, Pato or Logan).

Oscar... I'm torn. I can see it, but he's in McLaren and with Lando.

Oh, Liam is to me, the second legitimate Chestappen kiddo (the first is Pato). And they know he deserves better and will fight for him and stop Yuki from bullying him (too much).

Hamda IS SO THE FAVORITE! We can see in all their interactions they both love her, but Max has a soft spot for her. And she's so adorable and knows she has them wrapped around her little finger.

Franco is Sergio's favorite, he thinks he can do not wrong, and Max has to accept it recluntanly.

Oh anon, here I disagree, Ollie has to stay with Charlos, even if they are divorced. Lewis maybe tries too hard to be the father that stepped up (like Max) but he never will manage to do so.

Kimi is going where Ollie goes, so I think he will be adopted by Charlos too, even when they are divorced.

Please, tell me all about the OC kiddos!! I hope we get more girls, here we have too many guys, this is why Hamda is the favorite.

[malikselfindulgence]

Could I request a romantic LMK fic/ficlet with RedSon and a female reader asking them for help foguring out demonic self care? Reader is kind of in the same boat as MK where they absolutely just thought they were human and now they’re discovering they’re not and they’re kind of struggling to get used to their new body, in this case grooming wise. I was thinking a bat demon reader struggling to brush their teeth without breaking the toothbrush with their fangs or getting the fur between their new wings brushed because it’s getting matted lol (it’s already hard to get your back it’s super hard when there’s two things in the way). It can be a bit suggestive but it doesn’t have to be.

RED SON X BAT DEMON!READER

A/N: AGHH thank you for the request!!! Literally had sm fun writing this it's such a cool idea >w<!! Also the way you worded the request makes it sound like YOU'RE a bat demon 🤨🤨 lol

Content: negative self-talk from reader at the start, kind of hurt/comfort, ending is suggestive!

Fic under the cut!

You know- you used to think demons were cool. You thought the monkey king's tail was cute, you thought about how convenient it probably was to have those claw-like feet, you thought DBK's horns looked cool [though you'd never say that to his face] and you still think Red Son's bull form is very pretty, fur and hooves and all.

Now, though? Not so much.

You weren't handling the change as well as you thought you would- being struck by the fact that you're not human, not even mortal, wasn't easy on anyone, but you didn't think you'd struggle with your new physical form this much.

While, yes, you looked cooler, you suppose- every new feature came with about a million more hurdles. You thought flying would be pretty neat? Wrong, you can barely stay balanced for over 10 seconds, and you got too air-sick to make use of it's travel anyways. You thought the new big ears were sick? How much do you like them out in public, when there's too many sounds attacking you from every angle, too loud and too overwhelming? And your sense of sight keeps deteriorating- you think you might need glasses now.

You hadn't left the house in a while- a long while, actually. Everything was just too much, and frankly, you were embarrassed being seen stumbling like an idiot in your new form, hunching into yourself at every noise and bright light. You hadn't been checking your phone either- you knew they had questions, you knew they were checking up on you, and it only made you feel more pathetic.

You were at home now, cursing your ancestors and stupid demon blood and stupid fucking bats, trying to wrangle your arm in position to brush out the fur on your back, but your stupid wings kept getting in the way, and you could barely even see in the stupid mirror, and-

You're not sure when you started crying, but you looked down to find teardrops landing on your sink. God, this was ridiculous. This was basic self-care, shouldn't you just figure it out? Demon instincts or whatever? You'd considered asking Red Son for help, and even though you know it's just your insecurities eating away at you, you can't help but be scared that he'd laugh at you-

'CRASH'

You pause, looking through your open bathroom- you think that was your front door. You think someone just busted open your front door. You think someone's currently in your house- you rush to grab a pair of sciccors from your cabinet, ears straining to pick up on the noise outside.

You hear footsteps, some angry mumbling, and your shackles slowly go down- was that...?

"I've called you thirty seven times! Thirty seven! Not that I got worried, but you're not responding to the dragon horse girl either, and I swear on the jade emperor's life if you don't-"

His rant comes to an abrupt stop once he sees you, cheeks still red with tear streaks, hair flat against your head, wings bent awkwardly to cover your sides from view. You smile nervously in an attempt to ease the tension, but it comes out strained.

"R-Red Son! Funny, ah, seeing you here- you could've rang the doorbell, or something-"

He scoffs at your words, walking closer- your wings wrap tighter around you, trying to shield yourself off- you don't want him seeing you like this.

"With how you've been rudely ignoring just about everyone, I wasn't even sure if you were alive, let alone willing to open the door." He hisses out, and although he tries to come off as mean, you can tell he felt on edge, his concern showing in the way his voice cracks at his words, his eyes boring through you. He's waiting for an explanation, but you're not sure you can give one.

"I'm sorry, it's just been- I didn't mean to ignore you as long as I did, really-" you stumble over your words, embarassed and guilty and scared, scared of how he'll react and what he'll say.

His eyes squint at you, his face softening as he takes you in- you look a mess, and as his gaze falls to the broken tooth-brush and tweezers by your sink, the way your fur is dull and matted down, he starts realising that you'd been struggling, and just what you'd been struggling with.

He sighs, slowly stepping closer, his eyes down-cast and worried. He settled his palm over your jaw, thumbing at your cheek to wipe away a tear. "You could've asked me for help, you know." He frowns, gesturing to your state, "There's....specific tools for this kind of thing. You can't just use your usual mortal appliances, they're too frail, and frankly repulsive. They're more likely to make it worse than anything."

You nod to acknowledge his words- you can't even pretend he was being dramatic and snobbish this time, he was right, your toothbrush being enough proof. You feel your frustration settle down into something quiter the longer he stays next to you.

Red Son suddenly pulls away, fire enveloping his form for a brief few seconds- you stand there, confused and wide eyed, as he returns with some form of bag in hand. You're not sure how he managed to get that so fast.

"Well then, up you go." He sets the bag down and shoos you towards the edge of the tub, urging you to sit down. You do so without hesitation, though you raise your brow at him and hum, a little dazed, "Huh?"

"I'll be grooming your fur, of course. As well as trimming your nails- they don't exactly look comfortable." He takes out a fancy looking hairbrush, better-looking tweezers than yours, as well as a few other things you don't recognise. You're still reeling from the fact that he's here, not making fun of you, and now he wants to take care of you?

"Wait," He pauses his movements to look up at you, hair crackling in the air above him, "You...you don't have to do this for me."

You're about to reassure him that you can take care of yourself [despite the fact that you rather evidently need his help] when his finger settles on your lips, shushing you entirely.

"I'm well aware I don't have to do anything, and I'm sure you're aware I wouldn't be caught dead doing something I didn't want to do."

He leans in to peck your forehead, a quiet show of affection to reassure you.

"Now stop with that self-deprecating talk and let me help you, alright?" You nod silently, your ears twitching lightly, and his lips tilt upward just the slightest bit.

Red Son instructs you to turn around so he can start with your wings and back- he handles them with care, especially around the tendons and legions where skin meets bone, the areas sensitive to his touch. His palms and fingerpads are rough, no doubt from all the handi-work he does, and they scratch pleasantly against your skin.

He washes out the areas you couldn't reach no matter how you positioned yourself with a wet rag and water from your tub, making sure they're clean before starting to brush your fur, "hold your left wing for me?"

You find yourself relaxing as time goes on, the rhythmic brushing and untangling soothing your nerves. You can hear Red Son's hair sizzle, his content breathing, the small murmurs he lets out every once in a while, and rather than overwhelm you it comforts you- you feel enveloped in his warmth.

"My mother used to do fur treatment baths for me, when I was little." Red Son starts quietly, his fingers prodding at certain spots on your wings, perhaps checking to see if something's out of place, or perhaps he's just fidgeting.

"I couldn't control my powers, back then, so my fur was always left charred and dry. It was a sensory nightmare for me, honestly. She hated trimming my hooves, though." He laughs a little, lost in a memory, "always said it was beneath her, but the servants could never quite get it right, so she had to until I was old enough to do it myself."

"Do you paint your hooves? Like, with nail-polish?" You wonder aloud, and you feel him smack the back of your head playfully. "Don't ask such ridiculous things."

"You're avoiding the question."

".....well, yes, o-on occasion."

You giggle at his reply- you'd already painted his nails over the course of your sleep-overs, and you were going to abuse the hell out of this new information.

"Speaking of hooves, could you turn around? I'll start trimming your claws, now."

You do as instructed, watching him pick up the tweezers. You hold your hands out on your thighs for him, watch as he eyes them with a thoughtful look. He picks up one of your hands, pressing it against his lips gently before settling it down again. You try to push down the flush rising up your face.

He rubs his thumb over your fingers, separating them so he can work better, the 'snip-snip' echoing through your ears, "I'll leave these behind for you, since sciccors aren't normally strong enough. You have to be careful not to go past this white line here, though, otherwise applying pressure to your claws will be painful"

You nod, a little speechless. It was easier when your back was facing him, but now you can see his face- the focused look in his eye, his pretty lips pursing in concentration, and you feel your chest warm at just how considerate and loving he's being. God, you should've just picked up the phone and called him so much sooner and saved yourself the trouble.

"Hey, Red?" You mumble with a smile, and he hums to show he's listening. "Thank you, for all of this. I love you."

He freezes, refusing to meet your eyes- you try to hold back a snicker, but you can't help yourself. You'd been dating for ages, and yet everytime you said that he got all flustered and shy like a schoolgirl. He grumbles, cheeks tinted pink, "Yeah, don't mention it."

Red Son rises to his full height, taking something you can't really see out of the bag before leaving it on the floor- you really need to look into getting a glasses prescription- grabbing your hand and pulling you upwards, towards your room. Your muscles feel lax and relaxed, and you yawn, realising just how taxing the day was.

"I think you should rest for now- we'll have to go to the market early morning before all the high-quality merch gets sold out." Red Son pushes you into your bed gently, settling down beside you, putting something over your ears. You feel all the overwhelming background noise drown out, leaving your mind fuzzy and....relaxed. You're not anxious anymore- you can't hear the earth buzzing constantly in your head anymore.

"They're noise cancelling headphones- loud sounds tend to...stress me out, sometimes. I have a spare back home, so no need to- mmmfh?!"

You rush forward to kiss Red Son- your wonderful, considerate, stupidly observant boyfriend, who you love so much you can feel it rush through your heart in waves- melding your lips against his. He starts kissing back once his surprise wears off, arms slowly wrapping around you to pull you closer. You feel refreshed, you feel happy and content and loved, and as you pull away you think he can see it in your gaze, because he smiles in relief.

You start peppering his face in kisses and messy smooches- all over his cheeks and jaw and nose, the corner of his lips, the endearing scar on his cheek, making loud kissing noises all the while. He tries to act annoyed, but the way he blushes and leans into you is telling enough.

"Glad to see you back to your old exasperating self."

You push him down onto the mattress, and although he's strong enough to flip you over again, he doesn't, simply laying there and letting you do as you please.

You kiss his jaw and trail down to his neck again, this time slower, paying close attention to the spot between his collarbone and shoulder, fangs just barely grazing the surface of his skin. You feel him gulp against you in anticipation, his eyes following your movements.

"Just let me thank you properly, okay?"

"W-well," his voice is shaky, your hands roaming over his body, claws now freshly-cut and scraping against his skin deliciously, "I suppose I can't say no to that."

[luaspersona]

Snow Flower | kth (m)

pairing ↠ himbo!taehyung x reader (f. reader)

genre ↠ college!au; holiday!au; smut; humor; fluff; strangers to almost lovers to idiots to lovers; one-shot.

summary ↠ after making some terrible memories together, Taehyung wants nothing more than to never see you again; and he was pretty much succeeding — until he finds himself having to spend Christmas alone with you in the middle of nowhere.

rating ↠ +18

warnings ↠ taehyung is bi y’all; alcohol consumption; sexual tension; taehyung is a menace but he’s also stupid; some religious jokes are made; some kink shaming (tae is lowkey offended by furry kink?? idek); minor accident; very minor parent issues (this is really in the background, but i was going through stuff and writing it helped); a bunch of Christmas movies talk; taehyung is scared of grinch lol (i'm serious 💀); second hand embarrassment; pov switch; explicit smut (the warnings are long as fuck, so beware).

smut warnings 👀↠ mentions of anal; masturbation; orgasm denial; orgasm control; a whole lot of teasing; edging; dirty talk; pet names; soft dom!taehyung; switch!reader; fingering; light pussy slapping; nipple play; oral (f. and m. receiving); choking on cock; tae has a huge dick ‘cus it’s christmas and we deserve it; unprotected sex (pls don't do it. this is unhinged fiction); praise kink; marking; biting; light spanking; a splash of degradation (he calls reader a slut once); reader has sensitive thighs; tae has stamina for days; so much begging; a bit of overstimulation 'cus taehyung is a man on a mission; multiple orgasms; squirting; creampie; cum eating; it’s rough but it’s also super silly; they joke during sex, it's ridiculous; aftercare.

teaser ↠ (wc:0.8k) read it before to make sure this is for you ♡

word count ↠ 22k (7.5k are just smut y'all, i went off 🥴)

estimated reading time ↠ 60 minutes

note ↠ just wanna come out and say that i listened to mistletoe an unhealthy amount of times to get into the mood to write this and i think i’m damaged for life. also, i know it’s march lol, but i went through some shit™️ while writing this and it took some time to get back on track. to be honest, i almost gave up on this fic at least once a week, and it was hard as fuck to finish it. i struggled a lot with the plot until i was actually satisfied, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

note² ↠ if this fic is finished, i have to thank @uarmymoonlight for lowkey bullying me into seeing this story through, always ready to motivate and help me brainstorm and fix plot points. you know i love you, and i hope you get a himbo to yourself one day. also wanna thank @vsualitae for being such a sweet listener, and for helping me through writer's block. you’re amazing, and i will cherish you forever, please don't give up on me because i'm terrible at replying.

note³ ↠ thank you again for @imakeamess for the amazing banner!

playlist ↠ this is what i think reader and tae’s playlist would look like

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡

Jungkook suffering a car accident two days before Christmas was honestly so damn selfish of him.

It took five whole weeks of mature conversations (read: Jungkook calling Taehyung a pathetic little baby before resorting to messaging Taehyung’s mom) to convince Taehyung to go on this stupid Christmas trip to the middle of nowhere, only for Jungkook to think it’d be funny to drive his shit ass car straight against a light pole barely five minutes out of Soojin's dorm parking lot.

“You won’t be alone with her,” the asshole promised “Soojin and I will be there too”.

On top of that, Jungkook had the nerve to first go through a bunch of x-rays and cat scans before letting you and Taehyung — already settled in the shit chalet Soojin rented — know that him and Soojin would have to wait the 26th for the next bus to the hell hole that they mistook as a city, because no one in their right minds would willingly come here.

Well, of course Taehyung should’ve known that there was no way he could spend time in the same environment as you without wanting to kill himself: with or without Jungkook and Soojin, being reminded of your existence makes Taehyung feel nothing but nausea.

…

Ok, maybe he should rephrase that.

It’s not that he hates you, or anything. In fact, when Taehyung met you, hate was pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling. That night, in the frat’s living room, surrounded by dozens of other bodies as you danced to a song so loud he couldn’t even recognize, Taehyung swore you were the hottest, most sensual person he had ever seen.

It was one of the first times Taehyung went completely sober to a frat party, the only alcohol in his lips being the one he sucked straight out of your tongue. The choice of going teetotal had to do with the terrible lunch he made earlier that day that still rumbled in his stomach as he kissed down your chest (quick unrelated question: how much mayonnaise are you supposed to use in the pudding recipe to replace heavy whipping cream?).

Naturally, he couldn’t have thrown up before he went to the party — no, no, his stomach had to wait until you were straddling and grinding on him in one of the house’s empty bedrooms to push his excuse of a dessert out of his mouth.

Taehyung was pretty damn good at making up excuses to avoid people he slept with. But with you? He barely saw your tits and no fucking excuses were needed.

It took around two months for him to find his will to live again, and things started to go back to normal — until Jungkook started to date Soojin, that is. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung loves Soojin and how she makes Jungkook happy and all that bullshit, he just hates the fact that she also happens to be your roommate.

[10:36] taehyung: jungkook how could u

[10:37] taehyung: i can’t believe u right now, istg

[10:37] taehyung: u could’ve come by bus with me, but nooooo

[10:37] taehyung: u absolutely HAD to suffer a fucking accident now, didn’t u??

[10:38] taehyung: i’ll never leave this room

[10:38] taehyung: if i don't die of shame before u are arrive, u are dead to me

[typing] taehyung: btw F for u and all, hope your leg’s fine, i lov

A loud thud startles Taehyung, making him drop his phone on the bed.

He waits a second to make sure his heart is still beating before slowly getting up and leaving his room. He steps around some bags placed on the floor near your chosen bedroom to reach the open front door.

Taehyung first notices your car parked near the house with the trunk open, before his eyes descend to your sprawled form on the icy ground, your head snapping up when he calls your name with a confused frown.

“Oh. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Wait, that sound was you slipping? Shit, you ok? Can you get up?”

“Yeah!” You assure, before he can cross the threshold. “Yes, don’t worry.”

You shift on the ground, but as soon as you place your hands behind you for leverage, your face turns into a grimace.

“Fuck”.

“What?”

You don’t answer, instead trying to find different ways to get up while avoiding moving your left arm, and failing adorably every time as the thickness of your clothes restrains your movements.

“Ok, maybe I can’t get up.” You slump back, sighing. 

He closes his coat and changes from his slippers quickly, sidestepping the frozen paths to make his way to you.

When Taehyung crouches by your side he is taken by a sudden urge to swallow his fist. As if the whole situation wasn’t already perfect, you simply had to become even prettier than the last time he saw you. Are you some kinda wine or something? Why the hell you gotta be so gorgeous for?

“Should I…” he starts “uhm, sorry, can I touch you?” Has his voice always been this high?

You nod, and Taehyung automatically starts to rub his hands together.

“What you doing?”

“My hands are cold.”

“I’m… laying on ice.” Your face softens with amusement.

He pauses.

“Right.”

He grabs your upper arms and helps you to your feet, stepping away as soon as you’re standing. 

“Thanks.”

You take your hand to your upper arm briefly, letting out a low hiss.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, think I hit my shoulder.”

“That sucks for you… damn.” He eloquently says.

You glance back at your car, slowly walking back to it. Taehyung assumes you’re going to close the trunk, but when you lean to secure a bag he calls for you once again.

“What you doing?”

“There’s more stuff to take.”

“What? You’ll hurt your shoulder.”

“Did that already.”

“Stop that, let me do it.”

“No, it’s—” you look at the luggage in front of you when he comes to your side “it’s kinda heavy.”

Taehyung chuckles through his shattered ego.

“I can manhandle just fine.” He cringes as soon as he says it.

“... Right.” You clear your throat. “I got Soojin’s stuff too, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook put some of his shit in before I closed it.”

Your roommate’s name rings some bells in Taehyung’s head, and he realizes that this is the longest you two have talked since he… well, y’all know it by now, no need to keep remembering.

“Just tell me where you want them.” 

You reluctantly step away from the car, and Taehyung takes a deep breath: he can’t afford to further embarrass himself in front of you, and maybe it’ll be a good opportunity to make some new, healthier, memories with you.

There are only two things that could explain why Taehyung’s forehead vein is almost popping from carrying a few bags and boxes for less than ten minutes.

First: he should consider finding the fastest way out of here because you brought bodies for a Christmas trip.

But then, this isn't really fair because he sure never had problems handling some bodies before.

…

Shit, that came out terrible. Just to be clear: he means in sex.

Which brings him to the second possible explanation: Taehyung should probably start tagging along Jungkook to the gym, because holy fuck why are things foggy?

The worst, of course, is that you’re watching him, and there’s only so much panting someone can get away with without sounding on the verge of death, so Taehyung does his best to swallow his grunts as he crosses the living room to drop a bag near your bedroom door.

“Taehyung?” You ask, and wow. You look so pretty surrounded by little white spots. Who would’ve thought.

“Yeah.” He gasps.

“You ok?”

“Absolutely! Why you ask?” His laugh sounds more like asthmatic breathing than anything else.

He blinks a few times to try and see you with some definition, and he's like, 63% sure you just furrowed your brows.

“The last thing is Soojin’s gift to Jungkook, so you can leave it there and I’ll help you get it later.”

“What? I got everything else already, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, and thank you for it, but—”

“Really, no sweat. Where?” 

You consider him for a second, sighing when you point to the spot between the window and the fireplace.

“Can you place it there?”

Taehyung nods before he returns outside, carefully making his way to the car and sitting on the open trunk as soon as you’re out of view.

He can't pass out. He looked it up before and changing names is way too expensive.

So, instead, he turns to the last thing you brought: a large box, enveloped in a wrapping paper so ugly he immediately knows Jungkook chose it. He adjusts himself to grab it, but almost sobs as he realizes it’s the heaviest yet.

He takes a deep breath and secures it in his hold, sprinting back inside, blessed enough not to fall (because the universe couldn’t possibly be that cruel). He rushes to the spot you indicated and sets the box down, unable to prevent the most ridiculous little whimper to leave his lips.

“... Taehyung.”

“Again, I’m fine, it was pretty light actually.” He says, but inhales so loud that he’s sure he sucked all the room's air.

“That was a drum set you just carried.”

“... what.”

“Soojin bought Jungkook a drum set. I think it weighs about 55kg.” You explain, biting back a smile.

“Well. As I said, no biggie.” Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Oh. Kinda sore, but I'm fine.”

“Great.” He slowly gets up, swinging to his room. “I’ll go uh, unpack.”

If you say anything after that, Taehyung doesn't hear it, closing the door to his room and crashing onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide and lets out a long, tortuous breath.

He allows his body to relax for a second, dazedly looking up. He’s not sure if his vision is now compromised, if he’s about to pass out or if there’s mold in the room’s ceiling.

Hum.

The price of this place starts to make more sense by the second.

A notification draws his attention to his phone beside him. 

[10:58] kookie: just try not to puke on her and you’ll be fine (;

Here’s something people don’t tell you about fuckboys: they are often really lonely and depressed.

…

Oh, no— not Taehyung, though, he’s just fine. 

He enjoys the simplicity of getting his dick wet and the minimal brain power it takes to flirt.

Besides, people say love makes you stupid and Taehyung promised Jungkook he’d try to be less of that. So yeah, he likes to cuddle and maybe do some of that stupid corny shit sometimes, but as soon as the knot in his stomach starts to feel a hell lot like butterflies he’s dipping out. 

The sound of your door closing across the hall snaps him out of his mind. Fucking finally!

Jumping out of his bed, Taehyung furtively exits his room, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It takes around ten minutes of opening and digging into cabinets for him to remember Soojin was the one assigned with bringing the food.

He opens the fridge, hopeful that maybe the host left something before vacating the house, but he’s met with nothing but a half empty milk bottle (that looks a hell of a lot like yogurt when he shakes it, and even he knows that’s not a good sign) and an unopened beer can.

He rubs his chin, considering his options, but starving or walking on an empty stomach under negative temperatures feels like a whole new level of dumb and he sure doesn’t wanna die with dry ass lips. So, alternatively, after a quick second of quietly and tearlessly sobbing, Taehyung brings himself to knock on your bedroom door.

When you open it he— wait, were you going to sleep? The puffiness around your cheeks and the way you lazily look at him makes Taehyung think so. Also, there’s the fact you’re wearing a pajama set, cute little bears drawn all over your legs.

“Taehyung?” He snaps his eyes up.

“Uh, the nearest town is an hour away on foot.” He blurts, gulping at the way his name sounded laced in your raspy I’ve just woken up voice.

You frown.

“... right?”

He clears his throat; tries again.

“Soojin was supposed to bring the food, so there’s nothing for us to eat. I would grab something, but I think she booked a place near Earth’s butthole, ‘cus there’s nothing close.” You chuckle. Wait, you just… chuckled? Oh god, that must mean you think he's funny!, does that mean you think he's funny oh and your smile damn he feels like that's the first time he's seen your smile quick say something funnier oh wait, not— “But nothing like a good Christmas anal, right?”

Shit.

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait for you to react before adding, “sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I mean,” he snickers nervously “only crazy people do anal.” You close your mouth immediately, and Taehyung fights the urge to cry — the fuck is he saying? “I mean, that’s not— I don’t, uhm— I do anal all the time!” He can't tell if he's laughing or crying at this point. “Oh my god, I—”

“Taehyung?” He promptly shuts up. “I think I got it.” Your tone is teasing, but he doesn’t dare meet your eyes as heat creeps up his neck.

“Sorry.”

“What were you saying before? About the food?”

“Right!” He lets out a relieved sigh, shaking his head to try and remember what he was saying before deeming it important for you to know he does anal. “We don’t have any food so… would you mind uhm, driving me to go grocery shopping?”

“It’s not like I have any choice, right?” You let out a little laugh and oh, my god, he hopes that was just a terrible attempt at a joke. “Let me just change real quick, then we can go.”

“Ok.”

He turns back to his room before you even have time to close your door.

It takes around two minutes of screaming into his pillow for the embarrassment to die down. When he starts to change into more presentable clothes, Taehyung tries to remember where the fuck he dropped his brains before this trip.

The shithole Soojin rented is around twenty minutes from town, and Taehyung spends each one of them in pure agony.

Despite the fact that you were very comfortable, idly checking out the landscapes as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel leather, Taehyung was sure that you were seconds away from jumping out of the car to free yourself from the torture of his company. He couldn't stop wondering if he was breathing too loud, but his attempts to hold his breath quickly backfired when you kept asking why he was turning purple beside you. 

Overall? Safe to say this weekend will be great!

Trying to get out of his head, he spots a convenience store a couple streets into town. 

When he sets foot out of the car, Taehyung is glad you parked right in front, because holy shit, is cold as fuck. He wraps the coat tighter around him, but his shivering only stops after he steps into the establishment’s heating.

The place has only three aisles, barely stocked. A few fluorescent lamps cast the room in faint, clinical lightning and Taehyung spots a little fake Christmas tree over the counter. If art is about eliciting a reaction, whoever was responsible for decorating the place is a hell of an artist, because Taehyung feels immediately depressed.

You, on the other hand, don't seem bothered. In fact, you quietly take in the environment, and Taehyung anxiety goes nuts, ‘cus if you are not talking, then he has no clue of what you’re thinking and what you’re thinking scares the shit outta him.

His eyes travel around the shelves in an attempt to find something he can comment on, quickly grabbing a mini reindeer ornament kit while you set your purse between your knees to remove your thicker clothing.

“Hey, check this. Don’t know why people buy shit like that, it's not like reindeers even exist.”

He turns to you after laughing in the most ridiculous, unnatural way, but his smile drops immediately when he catches you folding your coat in your hands as a large — and corny as fuck — reindeer head stares back at him from your sweater.

You know what? He’s gonna own his shit talking ability as a talent, because it takes effort to be this clueless.

You look at him, bottom lip jutting out slightly before your gaze drops to your sweater.

“Damn, I’m sorry. Actually, I think reindeers are really cute, and it’s not like Santa is real anyway either.”

You frown “Taehyung?”

“Huh?”

“Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know reindeers are real, right?”

“No, they are not. What you saying?” His brows knit together in his forehead. Your lips curve up in a smile before you start chuckling. He lets out a relieved sigh. “I knew you were just messing with me. Almost got me there.”

You shake your head as you keep laughing, but… wait— holy shit, reindeers are fucking real?! But what about the whole flying thing?

…

Well, damn.

On second thought, Taehyung should definitely be more scared of opening his mouth than he is of silence.

Your laughter melts into a large smile, before you glance around. 

“Should we eat first?” You suggest, pointing to some tables near the large picture windows at front.

“Sure.” He agrees, still kinda thrown off.

You go to the cashier, asking for a menu. “What should we get?”

“Anything quick.”

“Ok. You good with ramen?” He nods and you order two bowls.

It takes no longer than five minutes for the server to bring the steaming instant food to your table.

Here’s another thing Taehyung’s just realized: keeping your mouth shut is a hell of a lot easier when your whole vision of life has just been challenged. What else is real?!

“God, this looks awful.” Your voice cuts through his existential crisis, eyes trained on the street outside the window.

“Huh?”

“There’s almost no one around and barely any decoration. Doesn’t even look like Christmas.”

“I mean, if I lived here I’d want to get the hell out for the holidays too, so.” Good! That was civilized. 

“Fair”, you grant.

You tilt the bowl back a bit to drink some of the broth, giggling to yourself when you set it on the table again. “Have you ever wondered what Whoville would look like if Grinch had actually stolen Christmas?” 

“What?”

“Like the Jim Carrey movie?” He nods, and you go on. “He wanted to ruin the town's Christmas spirit and shit. I think this town is what would happen if he succeeded.”

“I hate that movie.”

“Why?” You frown, but you still have a soft smile on your lips and Taehyung feels encouraged.

“A big green furry guy that uses onions as deodorant and commits arson? How the fuck is that a kid’s movie? I’m pretty sure anyone who likes Grinch is into furry or something” he snickers, “don’t know how that kinky shit can get people into their Christmas spirit.”

“You being hella judgy for someone who just found out reindeers are a thing.” You scoff.

Taehyung's smile drops.

“You… like Grinch?”

“It’s a classic, of course I like it!”

Taehyung groans, but the way your teeth nibble at your lip to hold back a smile makes him hesitate.

“Are you offended?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” You’re so blatantly amused that even Taehyung could’t miss it — and he can’t help but open a large, boxy smile at your teasing.

“Damn, I’ve been saying all kinds of deranged shit the whole day, and Grinch is what gets to you?”

“It was all shits and giggles until you decided to come for my holiday movie.”

“Your holiday movie? Shit, all I’m hearing is you not denying your furry kink.”

You gape at him, “I do not have a furry kink! Grinch has a very important message and is a very nice, sweet Christmas story.”

“Except it’s terrifying and kinky as fuck,” your playfull pout earns a chuckle out of Taehyung “sorry to be the one to ruin your Christmas spirit, but it kinda feels like I did you a favour.” 

“You have no place to say it.”

“Oh?”

“Ain’t your Christmas about anal or some shit?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”

“How’s that a better way to get into your Christmas spirit?”

“Well,” he smirks “maybe you should try and see for yourself.”

You dismiss him with a laugh, and Taehyung feels something melting inside. Jesus fuck, what an infatuating sound.

Shaking your head, you finish the rest of you ramen before breaking the now comfortable silence between you.

“No, but for real. How do you do it?”

Taehyung frowns — but who is he to deny such information?

“I mean… if you must know, most people think you should start with pegging, but I think—”

“No! Why would I ask you about anal?” Oh my god, Taehyung needs to keep saying weird shit so you keep laughing like that.

“Of course, sorry, you know your stuff.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about anal.”

“You brought it up, just outright shaming me.”

“Ok, fair. My bad.”

He smiles, “what you wanna know?”

“How do you get into your holiday spirit?”

Taehyung slurps on his ramen before replying “uhm. I dunno if there’s a ritual or anything.”

“Like, when do you start to feel like it’s Christmas?”

“Usually when I get home.” Taehyung shrugs, but when his eyes meet yours and find an expectant glimmer swimming in your gaze, he makes an effort to think about it. “But it fully hits when me and my sister decorate the tree or when my mum bakes cookies.”

“That seems nice.”

“My birthday is on the 30th though, so I guess it’s kinda natural to me in a way.”

“Huh. So you’re almost Jesus.”

“Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before.” He chuckles.

“Too sinful?” You taunt, and he bites.

“Something like that. Wouldn’t pass being nailed in a cross, though.”

“Holy shit.” Your laugh sends a smile to his face. “Don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Didn’t he die so we could sin? Just doing my part.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” You shake your head, groaning dramatically. “You gonna ruin Christmas for me if you keep this up.”

“Let’s be real here, Soojin’s to blame too for renting the serial killer shack. You can’t get into the holiday spirit when your place is full of very suspicious wine stains.”

“That's fair,” you allow. “When she told me she rented a secluded little place for us to spend the winter break, I fully expected some fancy cottage like the one from The Holiday.”

“The Kate Winslet’s one?” 

“Yes!”

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have that kinda budget. Jungkook spends too much on mattresses anyway,”

“What—”

“— besides, if this is a movie, it looks more like one of those big morality ones.”

“How so?”

“One of us is super greedy and presumptuous, so this is the universe’s attempt at humbling us.”

“Sending us to spend Christmas without our friends in a shitty place in a shitty town?”

“Clearly.” 

“I mean, I’m a Literature major, it's not like I'll make any money.”

“Yeah, I’m in History, so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went to a regency themed party once and everyone looked so fine.” 

“You chose your major for aesthetics?”

“What else is there to consider?”

You smile.

“And how's that going for you?”

“Three years in, not one costume party yet and my Duke attire is just gathering dust, so not great.”

“Maybe you should consider Fashion. I thought that was your major.”

“Yeah?” He pauses, considering it. “That's nice to know.” You smile and he taps his bottom lip. “But if it ain’t that kinda Christmas movie, what kind is it?”

You both ponder for a moment, before your attention returns to him, a mischievous edge to your eyes.

“Maybe it’s one of those we’re supposed to face our shit. Like the weird stuff we did in the past.”

Now, he knows you’re trying to imply something — but what? That he shouldn’t have run from you when he puked on you? ‘Cus that ain’t reasonable.

Ugh. Taehyung hates when people talk in riddles, he’s way too pretty for that.

“Maybe” he concedes, grabbing both of your bowls and getting up to throw them in the nearby trash.

He hears the small chuckle you let out, before you make your way to the door to grab a basket from a pile beside it.

Taehyung and you fall into peaceful conversation while roaming the few aisles in the store, and as the basket grows fuller, he wonders what he was shitting his pants for. Like what, he actually thought you’d just outright mention that day? You’re not cruel. 

“It’s been a while since I went grocery shopping. Soojin usually buys for the two of us.” You say, grabbing some cookies from a shelf.

“I do it every week because Jungkook hates sharing food. He lost his shit once because I used all of his mayo.”

“All of his mayo? The hell kinda recipe you were making?”

…

You actually got pretty familiar with it.

“The food poisoning type.” When you laugh, he pretends that he's joking. 

You finally reach the frozen section, eyes inspecting the different meat cuts available.

“What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?”

“My mom likes to make bulgogi and kimchi. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

You hesitate.

“Have you seen Home Alone?” 

Taehyung scoffs.

“What you take me for?” 

“Do you remember the mac n’ cheese scene?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’ve always wanted to have that for Christmas.” You purse your lips. “How do you fancy some bulgogi with mac n’ cheese?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You smile. “Budget Christmas supper.”

“Just how Jesus would like it.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Taehyung. It's the man's birthday, have some respect.”

“It’s about humility.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Having a dirty mind is also a sin, you know.”

“Yeah, you’d know that.”

“Just spreading the word. You’re the sinner here.”

You level his gaze, a challenging smile tracing your face.

“Does that mean I won’t get presents this year? Have I not been a good girl?”

Ha.

No, you didn't just say that — his last brain cell just imagined it. 

God, please don't say anything about being naughty. 

He exhales quietly, opting for an easy out. 

“If Soojin bought Jungkook a whole ass drum kit but got you nothing, then you should reconsider your friendship. Chicks before dicks or whatever.”

“I already accepted that Jungkook won. At this point I’m just the girl she shares rent with.”

“Well, I haven’t accepted shit. You please tell your rent sharer that Jungkook is mine.”

“You should tell him that, too. I’m afraid he might’ve forgotten.”

Taehyung whines. 

“You don't have to say it.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you live in denial.” Your attention returns to the refrigerator, choosing a package of beef and placing it in the basket. “What about you get us something for breakfast and I figure out our dinner today?”

Taehyung nods, walking down the next aisle. He picks up what he deems necessary not to starve the next few days and secures a mediocre wine bottle on the way before he follows you to pay for everything.

Once outside, Taehyung opens the backseat door and starts to place the groceries there, but you don’t make a move to enter the car when he’s done.

He calls you, and when you turn to him, he finds a large, beaming smile plastered on your face. You point down the street where a decaying sign announces a Christmas tree lot sale.

Taehyung shakes his head, shivering as he rubs his hands together.

“No, c’mon. They probably just have those really ugly scrawny ones.” The way your smile immediately falters makes Taehyung feel like complete shit, so he strides to your side and adds, as convincing as possible: “but! We might be lucky! It’s a small town, so they probably didn’t sell that much to begin with.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“You think so?”

“We can at least try.”

When you reach the sale, however, Taehyung cringes. There aren’t many trees left, and most of them already look terrible. He’s already trying to come up with something to comfort you, but when he looks at you? Shit, he might have thought it was Christmas morning already.

And the sight melts something inside of him. The warmth of your gaze when looking at utterly fucked up Christmas trees, as if they're brand new, makes him wanna be on the receiving end of that look.

You start to roam through the rows, inspecting the trees around you.

Now that he's not actively walking anymore, Taehyung feels his body stiffening from the cold, and he starts to tremble beside you.

“I don’t know why you're wearing that thin ass coat in this weather.” You taunt.

“My goal was to look hot, not to be warm.”

“Haven’t you regretted it yet?”

“It depends.” He smiles. “Do I look hot?”

“You look cold. Actually you look kinda purple now.”

“Not even pretty?” He pouts.

“You are pretty. There’s no changing that.” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him. “But now you just look so cold that I almost wanna warm you up. Make you hot.”

What. The. Fuck.

Your tone immediately takes him back to that day at the party. To the way you flirted with him with your back pressed against his front before he took you upstairs.

The way you never once darted your eyes away from him and he felt delirious, hot, under your attention — and it’s that same intensity he finds flashing across your gaze now.

No fucking way.

Forgetting what came next, Taehyung’s mind traps him in the memory of your hand reaching between your bodies to palm him through his pants, the recollection not as sexy due to the weird rumbling of his stomach. 

Coming back to his senses, to your very present eyes staring at him, he curves his lips up.

“Sorry, but this Christmas I'm good girls exclusive.”

“You saying I’m a bad girl?” You pout.

Taehyung blinks a few times.

“Shit.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Fuck, you gotta stop pouting like that.

“You just messing with me.” He shakes his head, pointing at you. “I’mma go look on the other side of the lot now.”

You laugh as he turns, walking away from you.

He does not have the necessary control to deal with you flirting with him. Not when it makes no fucking sense. And the thing is that he isn’t often the smart one in his life (that’s Jungkook’s job when he isn’t struck dumb by his love for Soojin or his occasional hatred for Taehyung), so he isn't exactly the best at understanding people.

However — although he knows he’s unfairly hot — it makes no sense for you to want him. Not after what happened. And he’s not gonna risk another embarrassing situation after things are starting to resemble normalcy with you. As a matter of fact, Taehyung is too dumb to risk anything when there isn’t clear and explicit interest.

He shakes those thoughts off his head, focusing on finding a decent enough tree, but it takes around fifteen minutes of touching crumbling twigs for him to hear you calling his name from the other side of the lot.

You’re staring quizzically at a medium sized yellowish-green tree when he reaches you. To its credit, most of its branches — although looking like they could break just from being started at for too long — are still pretty full. Hopefully it can hold some ornaments to keep that smile on your face.

“What you think?”

“It does look better than the other ones.” He points. “You want this one?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so fucking happy” you declare, staring at the wack ass tree on your car’s roof.

Taehyung chuckles.

“I’m glad.”

You step to the driver’s side, moving to get in when you notice that Taehyung isn’t following.

“Ain’t you coming?”

“You bought a Christmas tree but won’t buy ornaments?” He teases, and a large grin spreads across your face. “C’mon, I saw some in the convenience store.”

You return to Taehyung’s side and you retrace your steps down the street.

“I feel like I must warn you that the last time I decorated a tree was when I was a kid.” You confess. “So it’ll probably look like shit.”

“That’s dumb. Every tree looks good if you decorate it with love.”

“Now you’re just being corny.” You nudge his side.

“I’m just trying to anticipate you to the fact that I also can’t decorate for shit.”

“So much for being experienced.”

“Experience means shit. For example, Jungkook is like, five years old and is so wiser than me already.”

“He did drive straight against a light pole in a parking lot. So maybe you’re setting the bar too low.”

“You know, you can insult me all you want, but I won’t let you come for my Kookie.”

“Your cookie?” You tease.

“What you smirking for? God, you have such a filthy mind.”

“Do not!”

“No way you watch Grinch with that dirty mind and do not have a furry kink.”

“Shut up.” You give his arm a light smack, but you’re giggling when you push open the store’s door for the second time that afternoon.

Taehyung guides you to a shelf with a bunch of Christmas themed products, and you both start to choose from little foam and plastic ornaments.

“Fuck, that’s so cute.” He says, holding a mini foam sock you picked in his large hands.

“I know, right? Loved those little stars you got, too.” You say, placing it all over the register.

“Nice to see you two again.” The cashier grins.

“We bought a tree, so we needed some ornaments.” Taehyung reasons.

“Sure.” He looks at the two of you for a second. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys are such a cute couple.”

Taehyung’s face falls.

He kinda hates hearing stuff like this.

He’s heard people saying that about him and Soojin when they were fighting at a toy store trying to settle on something to buy Kook for Children’s day, and he’s heard it when he was having breakfast with a girl he had hooked up with — whose name he spent the whole meal trying to remember.

However, he never really heard it with Jungkook, even when the boy spent a whole dinner fucking sniffling his neck due to a new loation Taehyung had bought. Neither had he heard it when he was all smiles and giggles with a guy he saw for a while some months ago.

So he doesn’t really give those comments any credit. Especially because he knows he looks cute with anyone. 

You, on the other hand, seem to think it’s outright hilarious.

“Thank you!” You laugh. “We aren’t together, though.”

Ha.

No way you were seriously flirting with him.

“Oh. Sorry if I…”

“No, it’s okay.” You reassure. “We sure are cute.”

Your prideful smile has Taehyung smiling too, despite himself. He likes how confidence looks on you.

The cashier rings you up, and Taehyung grabs the bags, following you outside.

When he finally stops struggling to place the tree near the house’s fireplace, it’s already dark outside.

You tried to help him a couple times, but Taehyung was intransigent, especially because of the branches — he was full of little cuts and scratches when he was done. Which is fine, makes him look kinda edgy, but he didn’t want to see them on your soft skin. 

You drop the bags with the ornaments on the floor by his side, hands coming to rest on your hips. “You know, oddly enough I don’t know of any movie that has a Christmas tree decoration scene.”

“There’s that Friends scene where they decorate Monica’s tree.”

“Really? Never watched Friends.”

Taehyung gasps dramatically.

“And you like Grinch? Can’t believe I’m gonna spend Christmas with a psychopath.” He pauses. “Oh god, did Soojin rent this house for you to kill me?”

“Still with the Grinch judgment?”

“If anything I think I’m not judging enough.” You roll your eyes. “You seriously never seen Friends?”

“I don’t really like series. Too much commitment.”

“Ohhh, didn’t know you were a player.” He teases, and you laugh.

“What can I say. I'm as heartless as they come.”

“You do look very cold holding that little plush candy cane.”

“Isn't it part of the fuckboy agenda to pretend to be sweet and caring?”

“So you're manipulative kind too? Damn, you should come with a warning.”

“Who cares about affective responsibility anyway?”

He sighs, “I have so much to learn.”

You giggle, shaking your head, and Taehyung grabs another ornament bag.

“Wait, let me set the mood.” You turn around, grabbing your phone from the couche’s armrest and putting on a Christmas playlist.

As Justin Bieber’s fetus voice starts filling up the room, Taehyung lets out a loud chuckle.

“Mistletoe?”

“You seriously coming for every Christmas thing I like?” You groan at his mocking tone. “Let me live, Taehyung.”

“I’d let you, but you not doing it right.” He says, approaching you to grab the phone from your hands, but you quickly step away.

“Hell, no. This song is hella cute, you’re not changing it. Just enjoy.”

“Uh, fine. Can I choose the next one?”

“... ok. But it needs to be Christmas related.”

“I have my own Christmas playlist, you know.”

“If it doesn’t have Mistletoe on it, then I already know it’s shit.”

He gapes, feigning offense.

“Damn, the disrespect. May George Michael never hear you.”

And then you two start to assemble the little ornaments around your shitty tree, mocking each other’s music taste but enjoying and absentmindedly swinging to every song. 

It’s only when Mariah Carrey’s voice sounds through your phone that you stop for a second. Your eyes find Taehyung’s with ease, when he too halts his actions after carefully hanging a little star in one of the branches. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Need more Christmas wisdom?”

“Kinda.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you tell me more about holidays with your family?”

“Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Anything.”

“Please, be more vague.” 

You think, before grabbing a little Santa hat from the bag.

“How is decorating the tree with your sister like?”

“Uhm, she’s always very organized. She likes to plan it and she used to come up with different themes every year.” He smiles to himself. “One year she convinced us to buy a fake white tree because she thought it was fancy or something. It looked like shit when we finished decorating it, so my mum took us to a last minute tree hunt and we all started a whole different decoration before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah, now she loves little elf ornaments. My dad bought some once and she lost her shit because of how cute they are, so she plans her decoration around them every year.”

“Oh. We should’ve bought little elfs, then.”

“Nah, I’m tired of them. This way is nice.” Taehyung opens a bag with little plastic sleigh decorations and you two start to distribute them.

“So she’s a planner. How do you decorate?”

“I usually just do as she says. You know. Shoving the little things and hoping they don’t fall.” You chuckle and Taehyung looks at you. “What about you? How’s tree decorating with your family?”

You pause, letting out a long breath before you answer, “Don’t have that many memories to choose from, honestly.”

Taehyung frowns, before a little confused laugh leaves his lips.

“What, are you traumatized or something?”

Your eyes widen when you meet his gaze, smile completely wiped from your face as your hands halt mid-air.

Taehyung immediately panics, synapses synapsing before—

Well. Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”

His apologies are interrupted by the loud sound of your laughter. He almost thinks he’s imagining it before he turns to you, the little sleigh ornament falling from your hands as you lean on your knees.

“Are you… uh, okay?”

“Can’t believe you just asked that.” You try to catch your breath, laughter breaking into little giggles.

“I’m really sorry, though, I don’t kno—”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt again, biting your lip in an attempt to contain your amusement, “it’s fine, honestly. I’m okay with it, just didn’t expect you to straight up say it.” You giggle a bit more as he processes your words.

“Oh… so you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a good relationship with my parents, and this is my first Christmas without them. Don’t wanna talk about it… sorry if it’s weird or it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t.” Taehyung fights the urge to apologize again, but he can help repeating himself. “You really ok, though?”

“Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about it.” 

He nods, thinking before clearing his throat, “so. Want me to tell you more holiday with the Kims stories?”

Taehyung makes an effort not to let things become awkward, but it hits him then that this must be a pretty important Christmas for you — if the eager way you nod is anything to go by — and he kinda feels bad that you have to spend it with him. 

Despite his concern, you fall into your now familiar laughing and teasing as he goes on to tell a bunch of family memories while you two finish up the tree.

Taehyung never had problems falling asleep. Actually, if anything, he had problems staying awake — being so hot can be exhausting sometimes. Ugh, who is he kidding? If anyone knows this, it is you. You, with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes and your pretty hands and your pretty face and your pretty voice and your fucking gorgeous body and your sense of—

Uhm. You got the point.

Anyway.

Ahem.

Where was he?

Oh, yeah.

Taehyung never really had problems sleeping, but that night, after bidding you goodnight and returning to the warmth of his covers after a good steamy shower, he felt restless.

A weird sense of responsibility weighted on him, and he promised himself that he’d try to make this holiday remarkable for you — and that he’d keep that fucking smile on your face. But even after his resolution, his body felt foreign. Taehyung kept shifting inside the covers, gut turning and twisting almost as if he had eaten something he shouldn’t and the thought kept him awake for hours on end until he realized that it resembled butterflies.

He pretended like he didn’t know why he was feeling that, but, after he finally drifted off, your face starred his every dream.

“Merry Christmas Eve!”

“So you finally remembered I exist, hum?” Taehyung secures his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places the dishes in the sink.

You were twenty minutes deep into a Love Actually rant when his ringtone pierced through your argument. You shut up immediately, only then realizing how caught up you’ve gotten, but Taehyung was almost disappointed when you put away your lunch plate and left the kitchen to provide some privacy.

“What? I don’t remember you calling me when I was in the hospital yesterday.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone properly as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“People grieve in different ways, Jungkook. You must learn to respect that.”

“What are you grieving, asshole, I didn’t die.”

“Your dignity did. Driving straight against a light pole then whining over a twisted ankle.”

“The light pole was in my blind spot.”

“So you did whine?”

“Like a proper man.” Taehyung chuckles.

“I know you’re fine, Soojin kept me updated. I figured you were tired, so I didn’t call or anything.”

“Pretty sure you sent a text blaming me for getting into an accident.”

“It kinda was your fault, though, wasn’t it, Kook?”

Jungkook gets silent on the line for a second, before letting out a loud exhale. 

“Are you mad with me?”

Taehyung frowns. 

“What you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are, aren’t you? I just… I’m sorry, man. I know you didn’t wanna go in the first place but I kept asking you to go, and now you’re there alone.”

“Hum. I don’t accept your apology, tho—”

“Wow. Okay, then. I mean, it wasn’t my fault you puked on her and went all incognito, so it seems a bit harsh, but go off, I guess.”

“The hell? I was gonna say I don’t accept it ‘cus there’s nothing to apologize for, jackass.”

“Oh.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Appreciate it, man. But for real, I’m sorry. Hope things aren’t too awkward there.”

Taehyung chews the inside of his cheek.

“Actually? Things are ok. Went to town to buy some stuff with her yesterday and she’s so cool, man. We’re cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was a bit in my head at first, but it’s fine now.”

“Sweet! In that case, you’re welcome.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle.

“Yeah, thank you for crashing your car, it made me happy.”

“Everything for you, Tae.”

“Shit. I kinda miss you, tough.”

“Yeah, same. But we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Great. Now, have you ever realized how amazing Emma Thompson is on Love Actually? I feel like we don’t give her enough love, and I was just reflecting on some shit.”

“Oh my god, I kinda thought the same thing the last time we watched it. I mean, let's think about it for a sec here.”

Taehyung could distinctly hear the corny Christmas soundtrack when he set foot outside his room after hours trying to soothe his Jungkook deficiency. He smiled to himself, approaching the living room.

He finds you clutching the blanket to your chest, eyes focused on the action on the TV screen.

“You ok?” His question makes you jump on the couch, hand immediately flying to your chest.

“Jesus, Taehyung! Announce yourself, goddammit!” You try to catch your erratic breath as he chuckles.

“My bad.” You grab the remote to jump back a few scenes. “What are you watching?”

“Nightmare before Christmas.”

“Nice choice.”

“Wanna join?”

“Nah. Think it's time to start making dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go.”

You start to peel the covers off you, but Taehyung shakes his hand quickly. 

“Let me take care of it! You can chill.”

You frown, “you don't need help?”

“No, I can figure it out by myself, enjoy your marathon.”

Okay, he knows what you're thinking, and it does seem like a pretty terrible idea given… well, the way you two met. But! Taehyung is nothing but a dedicated man, and that night with you he was humbled. So, he spent the months following the incident learning and researching and — after getting fairly acquainted with food poisoning and stressing the fuck outta Jungkook — he finally mastered the art of cooking.

…

That was misleading, sorry.

He can confidently make popcorn, and hesitantly make ramen and mac and cheese — everything an adult needs to survive, honestly —, and tonight's menu just so happens to contain one of his specialties. He just has to figure out the bulgogi part, and then he's gonna blow your fucking mind.

“Oh, by the way,” you call from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen area “I didn't find any good brands of mac and cheese yesterday, so I bought the ingredients to make it from scratch. Hope it's okay?”

Well, shit.

Taehyung reassures you weakly, not wanting to take that smile off your face, and takes a deep breath before starting to gather the ingredients. 

How hard can it be, really?

Surprising absolutely no one, Taehyung didn't figure shit out.

What he did, though, in the twenty minutes it took for him to come to his senses, was learn a few big words. Like marinated. What does it even mean? And why does every recipe site assume he knows it? He knows shit.

Also, why is mac and cheese sauce not just melted cheese? Makes absolutely no fucking sense. Honestly? Straight up cynical.

But you see kids, Taehyung didn’t just learn to make popcorn and instant food during the previous months. In fact, he also did a little of what you could call a character development (who would’ve thought that throwing up over the hottest girl he’s even met could teach you so much about life? Amazing, honestly), and that’s why now, instead of getting creative, he decides to just call for you.

“Yeah?” You answer dismissively, attention still in the skeleton singing on the screen.

“I, uh… need your help.”

You pause the movie, turning your body to face him over the couch.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Honestly?” His smile is shy as he looks away from you. “I can't cook for shit. Hate to ask after telling you I would do it, but I also feel like food poisoning isn't on your Christmas bucket list, so… can you help me with dinner?”

Your smile, on the other hand, is blissful.

“How do you survive?”

“Barely. But Jungkook is a good cook.”

“Oh, yeah.” You consider. “Soojin has started to eat more at home after he started cooking for us too.”

“So… will you help me?”

“Of course.” You're already on your feet by the time the words leave your mouth, and Taehyung can see you're wearing that cute ass bear pajamas from yesterday. You look so fucking soft and comfortable.

When you join him in the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the way your outfit matches his own — although his pattern is of little tigers. You search briefly around the cabinets and reach for the wine he got the day before, and you two let the sweet alcohol tint your lips as you look through all the ingredients he displayed on the counter.

“Soojin made mac and cheese the other day, so I’ll do her way. Also, bulgogi ain’t really that hard, anyway. Just… do as I say.”

“Sure.” 

Taehyung pays close attention to your instructions, and you task him with a basic chopping job that — although really fucking dangerous considering the size of the knife — seems easy enough that he won’t fuck it up. You charge yourself with the pasta, filling a pan with water and turning up the heat.

“What does one usually do after supper?”

“Well, it varies. My brother likes to watch Christmas movies. My parents would just sleep. Jungkook likes to get shitfaced and dance.”

“And you?”

“I’m the one he dances with.” You smile.

“Cute.”

“What you wanna do?”

“Uhm… watch movies? There’s a few remaining on my list.”

“We could do that.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I give you the impression that I wanted to do it with you?” 

“As if. I’m your Christmas mentor, you need me.”

“Need no such thing anymore. Besides, I feel like I mentored you a bit too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“For one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still think reindeers aren’t real.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“And you’d be left to eat basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

“What I’m hearing is that you took the fun outta my holidays.”

“Oh, yeah? I bought some ramen yesterday, suit yourself.”

“God, you’re so mean, so cold. But that's okay. I happen to have a very big heart, so I forgive your lack of gratitude. We can still watch something together.”

“But I’m not apologizing.”

“You’ll watch your movies alone then?”

“Don’t exactly feel like holding your hand when you get scared.”

“What kinda Christmas movies are you watching?”

“Old scary Grinch.” Your smile only widens when Taehyung groans.

“Stop it.” He nudges you. “Your water is boiling already.”

“C’mon, Tae, let’s face some childhood fears, maybe that’s what our movie is about.”

He rolls his eyes, but your laugh pulls a smile outta him.

At some point, after around two hours of teasing and working through the wine bottle — now long forgotten and replaced by the cheap beer you got at the store —, you two manage to finish dinner. Now, Taehyung ain't no chef. But if the smell is anything to go by, this might just be his best meal, and he's happy he was able to contribute.

He sets the table while you give the food the final touches, and in no time you two are sitting across from each other, bulgogi mac and cheese bowls waiting in front of you, while Michael Bublé's voice envelops the house.

Taehyung fills his spoon and takes the first bite.

Holy shit.

For a second, he just lets the food sit on his tongue. The flavor coating his every sense as you stare expectantly at him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a low sigh; he could never have enough creativity to describe such a taste.

What he knows of, though, is that it tastes like shit.

Thoroughly and unmistakably garbage and he's left surprised at how you two were able to mess up this bad… Okay, maybe not that surprised: he was there after all — but oh my god, you can't cook for your life!

But, when he opens his eyes, meeting your glimmering ones, he doesn't have it in his heart to tell you. Maybe you just have a different taste or something, maybe your food is too refined for his traumatized palate.

So, he gathers his strength and chews the fucking pasta.

“So?” You ask, after he swallows. 

“Mhmmm” he hums “it's definitely something.”

Your face drops on cue, and Taehyung offers a weak smile when you reach for your own spoon, shoving pasta in your mouth and groaning when it touches your tongue.

“Oh my god”, you quickly get a napkin to spit the food. “But… it smells so good. How did I fucked this up?” You drop your head on your palms over the table.

“It does smell delicious.” He inhales deeply, letting the deceiving dish smell soothe his senses after the atrocious taste.

“I’m so sorry.” You groan.

“For what?”

“Ruining our Christmas dinner.”

“What you talking about? Pretty sure I can get full just by sniffling the shit out of this.” You lift your face from your hands, meeting his attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I’m serious.”

“So what? You think I could’ve done better?” He chuckles. “Honestly, you’re miles ahead of my cooking skills just for making it smell like food.” He continues when a small smile tugs at your lips. “Definitely understand why Soojin wasn’t eating at home before Jungkook, but it looks great nonetheless.”

You giggle faintly.

“But for real… what are we gonna do?”

He looks around the kitchen, before smiling at you.

“Think I'm gonna suit myself with some basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

After cleaning the table and making sure to strictly follow the basic three step ramen instructions, you two move your Christmas supper to the couch — or rather, you return to your cozy place under the blankets and he gets acquainted with the nearby armchair.

It feels ridiculously comfortable. And as you two keep making your way through Bridget Jones' Diary, Taehyung realizes a few weird things.

The first, is that he doesn’t know how you ever manage to finish movies, because you constantly feel the need to pause and over analyze a scene for at least five minutes before you deem him informed enough to move onto the next one. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it adorable, especially when you rolled up your sleeves, tossed the empty ramen bowl on the coffee table and explained to him almost angrily why Bridget’s resignation scene is real cinema or something.

The second, and perhaps most alarming one, is that he hasn’t paid attention to a single scene after the first time you paused. His eyes apparently forget how to strain away from you. From your arms, from your hair, from your smiles and chuckles. You seem to be aware that he’s staring, but pretend that it's just the spiciness of the ramen that got you fanning yourself, while making no effort whatsoever to push the blankets away from you.

You’re just… entracing. So beautiful, so excited, so worked up, so cute and just such a fucking menace that he feels like he’s spinning — cheap bear aside, he doesn’t think it’s on alcohol he’s drunk on.

Although, from the amount of cans accumulated by his and yours feet, you two aren’t exactly sober either.

…

Yeah, sure, it’s the beer. The alcohol. He’s drunk. That’s it.

“Taehyung, can I ask you something?” Your voice breaks through his mind, snapping him out of his inner ramblings.

“Sure.”

“I know you hate it. But can you maybe watch Grinch with me too?” And you quickly add, before he can even open his mouth to contest: “I really like it, and it’s the last one on my list, and” you hiccup “maybe you can grow to like it now as an adult!”

He groans. 

“Why do you like that shit?”

“Please! I don’t wanna watch it alone.”

“I don’t know…”

You look around the room, as if trying to find something that will convince him, but it’s when Taehyung sips on his beer that your eyes lit up with an idea.

“Didn’t you say you liked to get shitfaced and then dance with Jungkook during Christmas?”

“... yeah?”

“Then let’s do that! Let’s get really drunk,” you hiccup again, letting out a little giggle. “Ok, maybe that part is covered. So, let's dance, then watch Grinch!”

“You wanna dance?”

“Then watch Grinch!” You repeat, words slurred in the cutest little way. “I’ll do it for you, you do it for me.”

You don’t wait for him to agree before you’re on your feet, crossing the space between you and grabbing his hands to help him rise from the couch — but Taehyung doesn’t fight any of it. Because the pout on your lips and the way your eyes are glimmering with fondness (and intoxication too, he’s sure), makes him wanna do just everything you tell him too.

You set your phone on the coffee table and face him again.

“Oh” you giggle, clumsily stepping back when you realize just how close you two are. You clear your throat. “So how do you two do it?”

“We just dance. There’s no plan or a right way to do it, just… dance.” He blinks.

Fuck, he’s really drunk.

“Okay.”

He giggles at your uneasiness, reaching for your phone and starting one of his Christmas playlists. He doesn’t need much to start swaying when a sweet jazz rhythm sounds through your speakers. He shakes his shoulders playfully, earning a laugh from you.

“Damn, you’re so old.”

He chuckles.

“What you waiting for? Just dance with me.”

He grabs your wrists and guides you to swing with him, lifting your arms and twisting you before letting you to set your own pace with a large smile on your face.

Taehyung feels so at peace. The alcohol easing his thoughts, the jazz moving his body, your cute giggles gracing his ears.

“I'll give it to you, your music taste isn't bad.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn't be swaying like that to Mistletoe, I guarantee you.”

“Wanna bet?” You challenge, already grabbing your phone to change the song.

Taehyung laughs when you switch up your dancing style to something far more agitated than the song demands, clumsily circling the coffee table. He's clearly more skilled than you, so he tries to exaggerate and act up his movements to match yours.

“Okay, now sing with me” you clap your hands “— but Imma be under the mistletoe. With youuu” you point at him “shawty with you.”

You can't finish the chorus as you burst into little giggles, and Taehyung follows suit.

“Shut up.”

“That's the only tradition left, I think.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe.”

He stumbles on the couch.

“What?”

You look at him for a second, and your grin falters just a little before you shake your head.

“Why so violent with the couch? No need to be scared.” You laugh. “Damn, you're such a bad dancer.”

Taehyung can't understand mixed signals when he's sober — so it's not like he's gonna try when he’s this drunk.

“How dare you! If the music was better it'd definitely be easier. Put on some nice Stray Kids if you really wanna know what I'm made of.”

It’s a ridiculous scene, really. One that he wouldn’t believe could’ve happened a day before, but here you are, dancing around the living room, bumping into the furniture and laughing like two children as a way to force him to watch a stupid Christmas movie with you.

And fuck, he likes it.

He likes the way your shirt lifts whenever you raise your arms, exposing a line of your lower stomach. He likes the way your ass shakes when you try to make a funny move. He likes the way a thin layer of sweat coats your exposed skin, and how desperate he is to lick it clean. He likes the way you look at him, like he is the one making you this fucking happy.

And then you finally pause the music.

“I'll admit. If History doesn’t work, you can definitely make a career out of dancing.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “You should stick to Literature, though.”

“Hey!”

You laugh, shoving him playfully as you let your body fall on the couch, pushing the blanket to the armrest and away from you. He doesn’t bat an eye when he sits beside you this time.

“Can we watch it now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”

You reach for the remote and before Taehyung can ever prepare himself, the stupid narrator is already introducing you two to Whoville.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s not ready to face any childhood fears today, because as Jim Carey’s furry face is slowly but surely shown, he’s already shivering and looking away.

This time, though, you don’t ignore his lack of attention to the movie. 

“Oh my god” you laugh, pausing the movie six minutes in, Grinch’s ugly ass face occupying the whole screen. “You’re scared scared of it. Actually scared.”

He scoffs. 

“No, I’m not?”

“Why are you looking away, then?”

“Nothing, you can keep going.”

You smirk, “okay.”

Taehyung is able to stomach the next few scenes, complaining at the stupid hairstyles and outfits the characters use while you just eye him amused. When Grinch’s face shows up again, Taehyung starts to restlessly shift on the couch to have an excuse to look away, and the constant cracking of the backrest is what prompts you to pause the movie again.

“Stop moving so much. You gonna break the couch.”

“It’s just uncomfortable. Can’t find a good position.”

“Taehyung, we can choose a different movie if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared though, this movie is fine.”

“The movie is, you aren’t.”

He crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.

“You know, you don’t look like someone who scares easily.”

“Because I’m not.”

“You've been cringing since the movie began.”

“Because it's bad.” Damn, he sounds like a five year old.

You shift on the couch to face him, before tugging on his elbow lightly, compelling him to meet your eyes.

“If you admit you’re scared, I’ll change it.”

Your stare is intense as you wait for him to give in and he suddenly feels warm. Your hand is still resting on his arm, and a weird stir on his stomach makes Taehyung feel like that isn’t contact enough — but he blames it on the beer for the time it takes for him to remember how to form syllables.

Shaking his head, he scoffs.

“No wonder you like Grinch so much, you’re just like him.”

“Damn, just like him? Now who’s the mean one?”

“Still you.”

“Well, you just compared me to Jim Carrey in a hairy green costume, so.”

“I mean, you’re not as bad on the eyes.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s some competition.”

He doesn’t think. He says.

“You don’t have competition. You're like, in a league of your own.”

The chalet Soojin found was the only one with three bedrooms y’all could afford, but as you two have quickly learned these last days, that doesn’t mean that it was a good place. Actually, Taehyung only stopped calling it a shack because Jungkook told him it made Soojin sad — but even with every door and window closed, he’s still able to catch you shivering under the cold breeze breaching through the shit heating system. Fuck this place and how it makes you cold.

“Oh.” It's all you manage to reply.

“And that’s even worse.”

“How?” You offer him a little, unconvincing laugh.

“You deceive. Grinch would’ve succeeded on his stupid plan if he seduced people.”

“So what, am I seducing you or something?”

He doesn’t answer.

No, he can't answer that. Not with words, at least. Not with the way the alcohol is steadily dissolving his filters, and not with the way you're looking at him. So he just stares at you.

He just stares at you as if your eyes hold the answers to all of his questions — and that’s saying something because he has a lot of them — and then you wet your lips, dragging his eyes down your face. The sensitive flesh is tinted red, a memory of the spicy sauce and wine you just had, now glistening with your saliva too. And Taehyungs feels the urge to taste it.

It’s you, however, that finally leans in, erasing the space between you to smash your lips against his in a kiss that Taehyung feels like he waited his whole life for.

And the desperation is evident, the need to make up for a missed time neither of you were aware of, so his hand reaches for the nape of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against yours. It's messy and mostly sloppy, but it lights a fire inside both of you.

You further press your mouths together, Taehyung’s breath tangling with yours in what looks like an attempt to eat each other’s faces off — and fuck, he wants nothing less.

It takes only a light touch on your thigh for you to promptly sway your leg over his hips, straddling his thighs without breaking contact for a second.

The new angle allows for him to feel all of you. The weight of your body and the taste of your tongue makes his mind spin, and shit he can’t focus on technique for his life, he just wants to keep his mouth on yours forever.

Taehyung’s large palms skim up your thighs, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pushing a low breathy moan out of your throat. Shit. If he was eager before, Taehyung’s actions now turn straight up feral, hungrily seeking your lips while pressing you down on his body, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the way you seem to effortlessly fit above him.

The new found intensity makes your knee jolt on the remote beside your leg. You pause the kiss for a moment to giggle drunkenly when Grinch’s voice sounds through the room, and that’s when Taehyung’s inebriated thoughts finally seem to catch up to him. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re drunk. Shit, you’re drunk as fuck. He can taste it. He can feel it in the way your hands clumsily tug on his hair, and in the way your hips uncoordinatedly roll over his.

Shit.

He squeezes his eyes further shut, trying to get some sense into his head, and finally gathers enough control to pull away.

You immediately frown, chasing after his lips, but he turns his face. 

“Tae?”

He swallows at the breathless way your voice comes out, the nickname rolling off your tongue just makes him wanna grab your face again and resume the messy make out session. So, with his mind still spinning, he struggles to find the right words when he opens his mouth.

“I think we shouldn’t do this.” His voice is slurred.

You freeze, backing away just a bit to inspect his elusive face, and whatever you find there makes your whole expression drop. You clear your throat awkwardly and lift your leg to move away from his thighs. Taehyung’s hands feel hella empty without your hips to hold on to, but he pushes through the feeling, rising from the couch as soon as you’re securely away, and bolts away to his room down the corridor, pants awfully tight.

Taehyung feels like shit the next morning, in more ways than one.

He’s not sure how he was even able to fall asleep — although the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood might have helped.

He knows he did the right thing stopping it: you were both way past clarity for clear consent, but in all his years as a certified fuckboy he never communicated that so poorly, and never ever made someone feel undesirable — and he fears that's exactly what he did last night. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, because holy fuck he doesn’t think he’s ever desired someone so desperately.

However, as much as he would love to do it all again, much much more sober, he can’t assume the same for you. Especially not after the ridiculous way he handled the situation. But he shouldn’t leave it like that. No, he has to talk to you, to explain and then apologize. It’s still Christmas after all, and the last thing he wants is to give you another bad holiday memory.

That thought is enough to prompt him out of bed, and Taehyung crosses the corridor with surprising confidence before stopping at your door.

Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocks before closing his hand around the handle, turning it and pushing it open.

He expects to find you sleeping. He kinda expected you to be awake too, deep in thought just as he was — but fuck, he definitely wasn't expecting that.

You coat your fingers in your arousal before pushing them up to circle your clit. The relief is immediate, and you have to cover your mouth with your free hand to prevent your pleasure from spilling from your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut when you imagine what Taehyung's long fingers would feel like replacing yours. How he would drag them up and down your folds, spreading your juices and making your pussy all nice and slick for him, before plunging them inside, scissoring you open and curving just the right way.

Fuck, you’re so fucking horny.

You should've found a way to blow some steam, to relieve that pressure before you came on this trip. Granted, you didn’t really know you and Taehyung would be by yourselves, so the only thing you expected from him were avoidant eyes and quick, uncomfortable escapes — which you got last night, after your stupid drunk ass thought it was a good idea to kiss him. Shit, what did you have in mind?

Oh, right. Kim Taehyung.

The first time you ever saw him, in that cursed party, you were immediately sure of one thing: Kim Taehyung is tailor-made by hell. There’s no other way to explain his alluring eyes, that burn with such intensity that the mere glance your way makes you feel like the hottest fucking person alive; or his lips, soft and plumpy lips, that spread in the utmost tempting smirk you’ve ever seen. And his body? Fuck, he’s so hot that you honestly wanna eat your fist whenever you look at him.

So, it’s fair to say, you were pretty fucking happy that he made a move on you on that party. To this day, remembering the way his back was pressed against yours and the words he whispered in your ear? The promises he made? You just knew you would do everything to see them through.

But you feel like you’ve been trapped in your own fucked up version of groundhog day. One in which every time a hot person sees something in you that deems you fuckable, you’re always fucking interrupted. You feel like you’ve been edged for months now, starting with Taehyung puking on you, followed by you and Jimin being interrupted when you were searching for something to use as bondage and last month, when you had your fingers deep inside one of your classmates pussy and her sister decided to visit her the very same moment.

You’re a simple girl, with simple needs. You just want to cum.

And despite all the months without basic, mature communication, you still fucking wanted Taehyung to blow your back. God, the things you heard of him, the rumors, the giggling feedback… all ruined because as soon as he made sure you were clean and held no evidence of his lunch, he disappeared as if you had imagined him. But how could you ever blame him for getting sick? You’ve worked six months in a nursery last year, you’re pretty much immune to vomit at this point.

Nonetheless, his lack of opening after it all made you shut down that window, and you didn’t really gave it much thought until Jungkook decided to fucking destroy his car (honestly, how could he drive straight against a fucking pole, so damn inconvenient!) and you and Taehyung were left to your own devices in a shitshow of a town. And then, you got everything but what you expected.

You found out that his sweet smile can be just as alluring as his smirk. And that his eyes can hold a kindness and an innocence so genuine that’s almost infuriating. That he’s the silliest fucking man alive and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to make you company during Christmas — he is basically Jesus after all. The GOAT of Christmas and shit.

But after last night? After remembering what his lips taste like? After remembering the weight of his hands as they trace your legs and set every inch of your skin on fire? Shit, you’re not sure how you went a single day without it.

Consequently, after an hour tossing and turning on bed, you came up with a clear plan of action: you would apologize. Would face him, and apologize for kissing his last night and for making him uncomfortable. But fuck, you have to deal with that knot in the pit of your stomach before setting foot out of bed.

With that in mind, you push your fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking your walls the way you can just imagine that he would, reaching spots that yours never could. You bite the palm over your mouth, trying to keep a loud moan from slipping out when you start to pump your fingers with purpose, seeking release as if your life depended on it.

You’re so pent up that it doesn’t take long before you start to feel your pussy constricting around your digits, and you can sense your sanity drifting away the closer you get — making you thoughtlessly drop your hand from your mouth.

“Fuck” you moan, curving your digits to seek your g-spot “Taehyung!”

“I’m here!” 

It takes longer than it probably should for you to understand that no, you didn’t just imagine his voice replying to you — but realization does hit you eventually, and you snap your eyes wide open.

You take your soaked fingers away from your center, opening your legs as your head lifts from the pillow to find Taehyung, not imagined — although dreamy — with his back turned to you on the threshold.

“Oh my god” you whisper, desperation lacing your tone as you rush to cover yourself, even if he can’t see you “oh my god, shit, I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, voice strained. “I just… I came to— I’ll go now.” He stutters, and the next second he is out of your room, closing the door behind him.

Your body doesn’t move for the next ten minutes at least, and you have to gather all of your self respect to cast away the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming shame consuming you. 

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy, moaning his fucking name.

And you didn’t even get to cum.

Is it too dramatic to pack your things and drive back?

People change universities all the time, right? Maybe you can find a nice Literature program in another city, move the fuck away from Taehyung to never have to see his face again.

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Get your shit together, you’re not a spoiled white young man. You have to face your shit. You have to apologize.

In.

Out.

You slip out of bed, putting on sweatpants and a shirt over your sweaty skin, feeling warm all over. You walk to the door, testing different sentences as you let your head thump against the thick wood. How could you forget to lock this shit? You’re never ever getting drunk again.

Your steps are hesitant as you make your way across the hall, rehearsing a weird apology in your head as you try to build momentum — all in vain, because as soon as you see him, sitting on the floor and looking at the gift in his hands as if it has just spoken to him, your body tenses up and every possibility of courage evades you.

The experience is almost humbling, because you finally understand why he ran away all those months ago instead of facing you. Fuck being the bigger man, you’re gonna pretend as if nothing happened.

Taehyung acknowledges you when you step closer, coming to a stop near him with your hands shaking behind your back. You regret not washing your face before leaving your room, because you can only imagine how disheveled you look right now: embarrassed and sexually frustrated. You’re feeling so hot that for a second you wonder if you can actually melt.

His face doesn’t betray any emotion. If you squint, you can find what looks like confusion in his gaze, but you don’t level his eyes for enough time to assess it.

“I figured we could open up the presents we got.” He states, simply, as if he didn’t just catch you masturbating. You blink, setting your lips in a thin line. You know what? Fuck it. You drop to his side, crossing your legs and keeping your eyes on the gift Soojin bought you and feeling your face burning with his attention. “Let’s open them together. That’s… uhm, that’s how me and my siblings do it.” He instructs, and you nod, but as you both busy yourselves with the wrappings it’s clear from the clumsiness of your actions that your minds are clearly somewhere else.

You peel off the covers of a black paper box, and absentmindedly open the lid, baring its content to both of you.

“Fuck” you hear Taehyung choke under his breath when his gaze falls on your gift, completely forgetting the Céline pants Jungkook got him.

You see, Soojin is a strong advocate for self love and all of her presents always involve some kind of weird liberal feminist agenda to help you girlboss your way through life. So, when she started to randomly ask for your clothing size, you were sure she was gonna buy you some of those weird shirts with a corny quote like Happy, Unbothered, Disciplined and Growing (all things you couldn’t relate too, but would undoubtedly sport in the name of friendship).

You should have suspected, though, when she went through your underwear drawer, but she did seem genuine when she said she just wanted to do your laundry for you.

Well, people surprise you, apparently.

And it’s fair to say you are pretty fucking surprise as you look at the black lace lingerie set in front of you, with a little hope this helps you break your dryspell 😘 note on top of it — the icing on the fucking cake.

You almost want to laugh, the heat in your face becoming unbearable as you quickly reach for the lid to cover the gift up, trembling hands making a poor work to hide your embarrassment.

Forget changing universities. What about a different fucking country?

All moving plans are cleared from your mind when you hear your name. Said in a voice so deep you actually take a while to process it came from Taehyung, and a shiver runs down your spine when you halt your hands, leaving the box half open.

“I’m gonna ask you a question.” He starts, and he sounds so serious you’re suddenly scared of looking up. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be as clear as possible, because that’s the only way I’ll understand.”

You gulp, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you nod.

“Why did you say my name?”

Your breath hitches on your throat, and you assume it’s because you expected anything but that question that you raise your head — regretting it immediately, because you don’t meet the familiar soft and kind eyes that you’ve grown accustomed to these past two days. Rather, in its place, you find a dark shade of desire burning through you, enhancing your every sense when he darts his tongue along the seam of his mouth.

“You do that a lot, you know.” You huff out a laugh. “Lick your lips. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

When he repeats your name this time, he sounds almost angry, and that prompts you to admit. 

“I said your name because I want you to fuck me, Taehyung.”

He immediately shuts his eyes, and a deep exhale passes his lips before he opens them again. Every inquiry, every doubt has left his eyes when he unabashedly smirks.

“Then what about you try this on, princess. Let’s see if it fits.”

When you step back into the living room you can already feel the anticipation pooling at your brand new panties. You can't help feeling kinda uneasy, so exposed while he's still fully clothed, but when his eyes find your lace clad form, basically eating you whole, something about his shameless attention sends a boost of confidence through you, and you’re sure you’ve never felt sexier in your life.

“Holy shit.” It comes out so quietly that you can barely hear it.

His eyes explore every inch of your skin, and you honestly thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker, but a thick layer of lust makes them so deep you might just get lost on them.

“Come here.” He commands, and you immediately comply, cutting through the space between you and relishing in the soft touch of his hands as his arms snake around your waist, pressing your chest on his.

The fabric of his hoodie is smooth against your skin, his body exuding an intoxicating warmth, leaving you dizzy, sick to be touched as you drive your own hands up his torso and around his neck.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems to be in no rush whatsoever. His palm is hot against your lower back, pressing you against him, molding you to his figure. With his left hand, he starts to trace your body, trying to commit every inch, every mole, every scar, every expense of skin to memory, starting at your hips, darting inwards to your stomach, grazing up your chest to barely touch the valley between your breasts before his fingertip trace up the column of your neck, finding a resting place around your jaw. 

“Never want to forget this body.” His breath fans across your face, and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lean in.

The way he kisses you now is vastly different from the kiss you shared last night.

Then, you two were messily trying to suffocate one another, tongues clashing together with little coordination as alcohol fueled your actions and clouded your judgment. 

Now, the soft press of his mouth over yours is calculated. Sweet and deliberate, tasting you like your lips are sacred and taking his time to cherish the way your sensitive flesh feels on his. You have to gather all your self control not to bite him, not to take over, not to just groan out your frustration, and in no time you’re melting under his lead.

He gradually starts to speed up his movements, tilting your face to open your lips with his and slip his tongue inside to lick inside your mouth. Your breathing soon turns into panting as Taehyung acts become more intentional, kissing you as if his life depends on it. 

You entangle your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to further deepen the kiss — and he matches your enthusiasm, lips moving relentlessly against yours, sucking on your tongue and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, bruising the skin and making sure to swallow your every sound. His hand leaves your face to find your hips, grabbing and squeezing the flesh eagerly. 

Fuck, he’s such a good kisser and you’re already so turned on, you wonder if you could cum just from making out with him.

God, that'd be embarrassing.

After what feels like hours — although you think you could keep kissing him for days — Taehyung pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, recollecting his breath. 

Can he feel your nipples hardening over the thin fabric of your bra? Because you can sure as fuck feel the agonizing press of his growing erection against your thigh.

He smirks.

“Can I mark you?”

“Yes, please.”

Your pleading voice seems to ignite something feral in him, because when he latches on to your jaw his kisses are nothing short of hungry. He drags his tongue along your cheek, before making sure his mouth acknowledges every spot of your throat, licking, sucking and biting all over your skin.

You can feel him smiling against your neck when your soft, quiet gasps turn into full on whimpers. 

“Shit” you exhale, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it.

The moan that he graces you with makes your eyes roll back in delight. A shiver runs down your spine at the way he shamelessly grinds your hips on his crotch.

He pulls away, hair completely tousled, golden skin darker as he admires the blossoming colors on your neck, painted by his skilled lips. His eyes fall to your panting chest next, and he takes his hand there, enveloping one of your tits and squeezing it not nearly hard enough.

“Fuck, this shit looks amazing on you, but I kinda wanna rip it with my teeth.”

“Don't you dare ruin it, I literally just got it.”

He quirks his eyebrow, and his hand leaves your tits, tracing down your belly and reaching to cup you over your panties. Your hips jolt with the contact and Taehyung chuckles, the cockiest smirk settling on his face.

“Think you’ve already ruined it.” He groans. “God, you're really fucking wet and I've barely done anything.”

“You're hard too. I've done even less.” Your teasing is that much less effective when his fingers are ghosting up and down your pussy.

Taehyung chuckles. His hand rises to the hem of your underwear, grazing the skin below it with tortuous patience, making you clutch his hair even harder. He's sure going bald by the end of this.

“You must be so fucking messy after this morning.” He hums to himself, and you nod. “Did you get to cum?”

“No.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” His hand thread down again, tracing your folds over the lace. “Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Tae. Please.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Now, that’s just a shame.” He slightly slaps your pussy, making you jolt in his hold and then completely takes his hand away. “Because only good girls get to cum, princess, and you’ve been such a bad girl to me these past days, so damn mean. What makes you think you deserve a present?”

Jesus Christ, if this man doesn't let you cum you're gonna seriously kill him.

“No, I promise I can be a good girl for you, baby, please” he's about to say something else when you drop to your knees, effectively shutting him up. “Let me make it up for you. Show you how good I can be.”

You try to get closer to his legs, but the movements make you wince when your knees scratch against the hard floor. You look around for something to place below your legs, but Taehyung quickly catches on.

“Here” you lift your head just in time to see him pulling his hoodie above his head, revealing his long, toned torso, golden skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and just begging for you to lick and suck some marks up his stomach. 

You're so entranced by his chest, that you take a second to understand he's giving you his clothing, and you don't give it much thought before placing it under your legs. The relief is immediate. 

“Thanks.”

He doesn't answer when your hands spread over his strong thighs, creeping up his leg to his crotch. The hardness of his cock under your palm makes you lick your lips, and you squeeze him, eliciting a sigh out of him. You hook your hands on his waistband, not wasting another second before pulling both his sweatpants and underwear down his legs.

The sight of him almost makes you choke. He's big. So fucking big and thick, but also the prettiest fucking dick you've ever seen and the realization makes you just as frustrated as it makes you wetter. His tip is engorged, flushing dark as a bead of precum accumulates at the crown. God, what a fucking sight to behold. You admire it for a second, mouth watering as you anticipate its weight on your tongue.

“Look so damn beautiful like that, baby.” He praises, hand coming down to wrap around the base of his length. “Wanna suck me?”

“Yes.”

“Go on then.” He pumps himself. “Suck my cock like a good girl.”

You promptly open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and welcoming the weight of his member with a loud moan. You suck his slit, tasting the salty precum with a satisfied hum before licking up his length. You glisten him with your saliva before flicking your thumb over his tip, teasing him and making Taehyung gulp above you.

“You’re so big,” you whine, and he twitches “so fucking sensitive too.”

You alternate between long and short licks, soaking him and coaxing sweet hisses out of his mouth. Your fingers rub his crown, and you wrap your lips around it to give it a dainty suck.

“Look at me” you command, smiling when he does — a large, loving smile before you take his tip closer to your lips and let your spit fall on his cock, spreading it all over his length.

“Holy fuck” he shudders, a long elongated groan passing his parted lips “so fucking hot.”

Pride fills your face as you dive to kiss at his base, palm diligently working on his tip. After some minutes of thorough, but tame motions, Taehyung finally caves in, tone laced in exasperation. “Stop teasing, princess” you can feel your panties sticking to your pussy “do something already.”

“But I’m giving you so much already.” You pout.

“No, no—” his groan is nothing but frustrated “c’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“Ain’t this good?” You smirk, hand still leisurely stroking his now painfully hard cock.

“You’re so mean.”

“Really? Then I should just stop.” You pause your hand, and Taehyung’s hips jolt.

“Baby” his tone is a warning, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game here, one that’ll definitely bite you in the ass later, but fuck it. It's already so worth it just to see the way his thighs clench and his gaze burns through you.

“You want me to suck you?” You lick your lips slowly, directing his impatient eyes to your tongue.

“Yes, princess.”

“Then why don’t you beg for me, Tae? Ask me real nice and I’ll think about it.”

He chuckles.

Actually chuckles in a weird, choked way, but the ferocity that clouds his eyes only makes you that much more horny. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t fucking care, or — if the throabbing of his dick is anything to go by — maybe he’s just too hard to think properly, but when he opens his mouth again is to grant you the sweetest fucking words you’ve ever heard.

“Please, princess. Be a good girl for me and suck my cock. Make me proud.” You grin.

“With pleasure.”

And you do it, because god knows how much you want it too.

If your pace was teasing, insufficient before, now Taehyung feels on the verge of passing out with the way you sink his length inside the heat of your mouth. The second you take to adjust to the stretch is not nearly enough for him to adjust to the devastating pleasure that you elicit on him, and Taehyung just instantly knows he'll lose his mind when your head starts moving up and down his dick with finality.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good.” He growls, bewitched by the way his cock disappears inside your mouth, mind blanking when you start to hollow your cheeks.

Every little sigh, every breathy moan and especially his strained praises just spur you on, encouraging you to take more and more of him with each passing, relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. The noises filling the living room are anything but decent, but the vulgarity of it just makes it even more delicious. 

“Sucking me so well” when you glance up, you can’t help but moan at how fucked out Taehyung looks. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with bliss while sweat collects on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his glowing skin as he swallows. You release him with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip as you try to catch your breath — hands not stopping. Taehyung’s thumb finds your chin, and you lick your mouth clean “You’re sexy as fuck.”

You take two seconds to make a decision.

“Want you to cum in my throat.”

He looks at you as if you just punched him.

“You want my cum?”

“Want all you’re willing to give me.” And it's true. “Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck yes, baby. Wanna paint that sweet fucking throat of yours.”

You smile up to him, and when your attention returns to his cock you make sure to trace every inch, every vein with your tongue, making it as slippery as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you bring him to your lips again, letting your tongue lay flat under his length as you begin to push it further down your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you try to control your gagging and relax your jaw to better accommodate him — and also to not suffocate or something.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now.” But you kinda do, though, if the way he throbs inside you and his knees slightly tremble is any indication.

You start to slowly stretch your throat with him, and Taehyung’s overwhelmed expression is enough to make you deeply moan. His hips jolt at the vibration, making you choke.

“Shit, sorry” he backtracks, helping you recover before you’re guiding him inside again.

When your nose brushes the skin of his stomach, you know you’re not gonna be able to hold in for much longer, and you need him to cum soon, so you push through the discomfort, the tears and the way you just know your throat is gonna be sore as fuck after this, and swallow.

“Ju–just like that, that’s it” he stutters, “I'm close.”

You resume your bobbing movements, head relentless bouncing up and down his cock before you take your hands to his balls. He shudders when your light massage turns into a more thorough fondling and squeezing while you suck around him.

When you glance up at him — tear-filled eyes with nothing but lust looking up at his mesmerized ones with your mouth full of him — Taehyung’s body shudders. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure erupts on his body, and you can feel the thick stripes of cum shooting down your throat while your lips suck on his tip, milking his high as much as you can — and he cums so much that you struggle to swallow it all. When he removes his cock from your mouth, sucked dry, he’s still jolting with sensitivity. 

“Jesus fuck” he closes his eyes tightly, trying to ground himself. You clear your throat, licking around your mouth to collect any left juices. “You’re unreal.”

He grabs your chin.

“Let me see.” You open your mouth, tongue sticking out to show him no traces of his orgasm. “Such a good girl.”

He then grabs your forearms, pulling you to your feet.

Taehyung gives you no time to stabilize yourself before his lips are on yours, but it’s only after he secures your wobbling form in a tight, strong embrace that you’re able to kiss him back. Your fingers trace up and down his biceps with as much languidness as he makes out with you with. And it surprises you, because you can’t possibly taste good right now, but his lips are so soft that you don’t even protest, thankful for the unhurried touch.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s to pull you into a hug — full on giggling into your ear.

“Fucking thank you.”

You laugh.

“You thanking me for a blowjob?”

Neither of you care about how hoarse your voice sounds, but you clear your throat to try and soothe some of the roughness nevertheless. 

“Hell yeah, your mouth is amazing. Feel like you just sucked me stupid.”

You laugh even harder.

“Nah, I feel like you were already pretty stupid before that.”

His chuckle tickles your ear, leaning his head so his lips touch your shoulder.

“Oh. You completely ruined my hoodie, by the way.”

“What?” You pull away from him in an instant. Gaze falling to his clothes on your feet — and the new wet patch that tinges the gray fabric darker. Your eyes widen in mild panic. “Shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'll—”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you should be sorry. How dare you get horny from sucking my dick, that's just unacceptable.” You pause, face still hot when Taehyung pulls you back to him, guiding his hands between your legs. The pad of his fingers ghost over your pussy, feeling all your arousal through the damp lace. “God, look at that.” He taunts, and his fingers rise to hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them up and pressing the fabric up your skin. He clicks his tongue. “This must be so uncomfortable.”

“Mhmm” you nod, tightening your grip on his arms.

“What do you say, baby? Think you deserve a present now?”

“Yes.” You sigh when he pulls your underwear even higher.

“No, no, baby. How do we say?”

“Pretty please?” You pout and he grins.

“Uhm, now that's better.”

And then he's kissing you again — but gone is the softness of his lips, now hungrily moving against yours. His hands find your ass, gripping and kneading you to his liking.

The way he shifts from shy-smiling-face-surrounded-by-hearts emoji to smirking-devil emoji is sure to make you lose your mind — and you can't fucking wait.

As you two stumble to your room, you make sure to not leave any inch of his golden skin unattended: bruising up his neck like he did yours, tugging on his hair and running your palms all over his body. Taehyung guides you past your threshold, handling you with care until the back of your knees hits the bed. He hurries you on top of it, promptly falling above you.

“You're so hot” he breathes, lips following the path between your breasts, “the hottest girl I’ve even fucking seen.” He sounds almost angry.

You’re panting as he kisses down your stomach, body squirming in anticipation — gasping when he hoists you closer to the headboard.

“Damn, princess, you’re so desperate.” He chuckles, sucking a hickey onto your hips. “Pussy must be begging for some good fucking.”

“Yes,” you sigh “want you so fucking bad.”

His smirk is devilish, lips hovering down your skin until they're just above your aching core. You raise your hips, trying to get closer to his face, but he easily avoids you.

“Tae,” you whine. “Please.”

“You wanna cum, baby?” You nod eagerly, and he shakes his head, slapping the side of your thigh. “Words.”

“Yes! Fuck, I wan— I need to cum.”

“Good.” And just like that, he is gone, sitting back on his heels.

You grunt.

“Taehyung, I'm not above murder, you should know.”

He laughs, hands coming down to your ankles and pushing them apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to your pussy — or, rather, to your arousal soaking through your panties. 

“You're so wet, baby. Feel like you can cum just if I look at you nice enough.”

“Taehyung” you glare, but your voice is too shaky to hold any power against him.

“I want you to show me.” He says, and the instant confusion on your face prompts a sheepish smile on his own. “How.” He clarifies, massaging your calves. “Want you to finish what you started this morning.”

The prospect of teaching him how to please you makes you warm all over, and if you weren't so distressed you might deny it, ask for his tongue or his fingers — but you are desperate, and no one can make you cum faster than yourself. So your hands jump to the sides of your panties, already pushing them down when Taehyung’s hands stop you.

“Want them on.”

“Kinky” you tease, earning a dramatic eye roll.

You hook a finger around the center of the fabric and push it aside.

Taehyung’s gaze grows darker when you expose your bare pussy, and he slowly licks his lips. His feasting eyes are entranced by the way your arousal drips down your folds, slicking you all the way down to your ass. He swallows thickly, hands pushing your legs further apart.

You don’t give him enough time to bask at the sight, though, because your fingers find your entrance immediately after, spreading your juices around before coming up to circle your clit.

The well-deserved, but so fucking delayed attention making your his jolt. Not wasting any second, you hurriedly roll your fingers, closing your eyes to focus on your precise, familiar movements.

After feeling lubricated enough, you sink two fingers inside your cunt and curl them to stroke your g-spot. Loud, wet squelching sounds fill the room, but you can still hear Taehyung’s ragged breathing above you; his soft grunts encouraging you as you keep fingering yourself, whispering sweet nothings to you. He tells you how pretty you look, how good you are for him, how hot you look when you’re knuckles deep inside your dripping pussy. You take your free hand to your tits, pushing them out of their confinements to twist and pinch your nipples. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, look at that” his voice is thick with lust, “such a filthy girl.”

His words tighten the knot in your stomach.

“I–I bet I’ll take your cock so well.”

“Yeah? Fuck, I can’t wait to stretch you, princess.” When you open his eyes, you almost cum just from Taehyung’s all-consuming gaze alone, completely hypnotized by the way your fingers disappear inside your cunt. 

“My thighs,” it comes out so quietly that you force yourself to speak again, “grab my thighs.” 

Taehyung takes a second to process your words, but then his hands are on you. Massaging, gripping, pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with such enthusiasm that will surely leave bruises there too. The added stimulation makes you arch your spine off the bed, eyes rolling back as you can feel more arousal soaking through your fingers.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna make me all hard again.” He moans, and his movements pause for a split second before he asks: “are you close, baby?”

Your legs start to tremble, and every hit to your g-spot makes you whimper.

“Yeah” you breathe, barely registering his words at this point.

“Look at me.” He commands, and you do. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.” 

“Wanna make me proud?”

“Yes!” You scream, tears blurring your vision — but his next words make your whole body stiffen.

“Then stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. But your fingers do lose momentum.

“What?”

“Stop.” And a slow smirk creeps up his face as yours scrunches up in hazed confusion. “You’re not cumming until I want you to.”

When you fully realize what he’s asking you, your orgasm has already been washed far out of reach. You shudder as your fingers leave your pussy, the tears collected from the pleasure roll down as frustration, but when you open your mouth to complain, Taehyung slots himself between your parted legs. His hair tickles your thighs as he pushes your underwear aside and suddenly licks up your cunt, tongue gathering all the arousal from your folds before his lips close around your clit, sucking hard.

The unexpected stimulation makes your hips jut, shuddering so violently that Taehyung pulls away, chuckling lightly as confusion coats his expression.

“Did you just cum?”

“No!” You whine. “I just… I want to cum so bad, I was so, so goddamn close and now I’m just sensitive as fuck.”

He gives your clit an experimental kiss and you grunt, hands fisting the sheets.

“Shit” he smiles, “that’s just too bad.”

Your head snaps up.

“What… what you mean?”

“You teased the shit out of me before, sweetheart. I’m still deciding if I’ll let you cum.”

“Taehyung,” you sob, “if I don’t cum soon I think I’ll legitimately die.”

“Poor thing.” He mocks.

“I’m so serious right now, please don’t do that.”

Another kiss to your swollen pussy.

“Then fucking beg, princess.” 

Well, that you can do.

“Baby, please” you sigh “please, I’m so sorry for teasing you, just–just please make me cum. Let me cum, please.”

He chuckles.

“As you wish.”

He swiftly pulls your damp panties down your legs, tossing it on the floor behind him, and then his warm tongue meets your pussy again. This time, though, you swear Taehyung is trying to fucking suffocate himself on you. He flicks your clit the same way your fingers did, skillfully twisting it and eating you out with devotion — and you sure feel worshiped. Worshiped by the way he moans, enjoying it as much as you; by the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and licks your dripping juices; but also by the way he grabs your thighs, long fingers massaging and digging on the flesh.

The stimulation is so hard and you’re so pent up, that it doesn’t take longer than five minutes of him thoroughly eating your pussy for you to start to feel your orgasm slowly building up on your body again.

“That’s it, Tae, fu–fuck” you cry out “eating me out so good, just like that.”

You’re basically grinding on his face now, and he flattens his tongue to encourage you to ride him as you please.

“Taste so fucking sweet” he hums. “Should’ve had this for Christmas dinner.”

Your chuckle is shaken when Taehyung plunges one of his fingers inside your walls, stroking you gradually to stretch you up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He mutters. “Do you want my cock?” You nod, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t appreciate it, humming against you. “Tell me.”

“I–I want… want your cock.”

“Wanna give it to you, baby, but I’ll need you to relax for me. Let me stretch you.”

And you certainly try, but you feel so tense, so desperate to cum that you can’t seem to find your breath.

“That’s–that’s your fucking fault!” You hiss when he finally starts to thrust his fingers faster. “Edging the— nghh, fuck outta me.”

He smiles against your pussy, but says nothing when he slowly introduces a second finger. His movements are precise, careful not to hurt you but determined as he scissors you open, slowing down for you to adjust every time you flinch or so much as goes silent above him. He also changes the pace of his mouth to try and help loosen you up, and holy fuck, you don’t think you have the capacity of imagining such sweet, toe-curling oral, not even in your filthiest, most unrealistic dreams.

When he works you up to three fingers, Taehyung has to pin you down with his free hand to stop you from lifting your hips.

“Shit! Feels so–so fucking good” you whimper.

“Grab my hair.” And you do, hand releasing the sheets to push his sweaty locks away from his view, and the intensity of his eyes on yours almost makes you feel more naked somehow. 

“Jesus fu— nghh”.

Taehyung now fingers you at a relentless pace, and the skill with which he does it — angling his fingers to hit your g-spot, reaching for different sensitive areas and making your walls clench around him — is almost overwhelming.

Your legs quiver, threatening to close around his face.

“Close?”

You’re kinda scared to answer, but it’s not like you can hide it anyway.

“I’m so close! Please, Tae, let me–let me cum!”

The pleasure running through your body is so intense you feel like you could actually pass out if he denies yet another orgasm, and he can surely feel your anguish as you start to chase his face, chuckling lightly before finally saying the sweet words, “Then cum for me, princess. Cum all over my face.”

The orgasm that he coaxes out of you is maddening. Your mind blanks as your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers — which continue to thrust into, prolonging your pleasure. Your whole body shudders, toes curling with everlasting bliss, but you are surprisingly able to keep your eyes open. The sight of him, between your legs, eating you out through your high and making sure to collect every bit of your sweet release on his warm tongue is almost enough to make you cum again.

When you finally come down, refamiliarizing yourself with the whole concept of breathing, Taehyung is looking at you as if you’re sin incarnated, a loose smile on his lips. You feel so spent, but suddenly so impatient too.

“Want you to fuck me.” It’s the first thing you say after your head stops spinning.

He laughs.

“Barely took my fingers out and you’re already asking for more, damn.” He peppers your thighs with soft, soothing kisses. “Pussy so fucking greedy.”

“I want you so bad.” Your voice is so small, so quiet. You swallow dry.

“I want you to, baby.” He comes up to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours in such a sloppy, lazy way that you can’t help but smile, ignoring the taste of your cum lingering on his mouth. “You made me so hard again, fuck.”

Taehyung grabs your thighs and hooks them around his waist. He takes his fingers to your pussy again, smearing some of your release around to better slicken you up. After deeming you lubricated enough, he guides his dick to your cunt. He drags his tip along your dripping folds, and your breath hitches.

“Fuck, you’re soaking my cock.” He grins. “Who got you this wet, baby?”

“Taehyung,” you sigh, heels pressing down on his lower back, “don’t you dare tease me again.”

“Then answer the question.” He rolls his hips harder over yours, rubbing your clit. “‘Cus I can be pretty fucking patient.”

“Fuck you.”

“I let you cum one time and you’re already talking back again.” He clicks his tongue. “One more chance, baby. Who got this pussy so… fucking… wet?” He punctuates every word with a slap of his cock against your cunt, and you gasp each time, digging your fingers on his back.

“Ungh, fuck, yo–you! Shit, you did, Tae.”

“I made you cum so fucking hard, didn’t I?” He smirks, and your hips jump slightly.

“The hardest” you whimper.

Taehyung’s so fucking glad you gave in this fast — because there’s only so much time he could endure teasing you while being desperate as fuck to feel the warmth of your cunt, to feel you wrapping around his cock the way you did around his fingers. With a deep exhale, he shifts to position his dick at your entrance.

“How do you want it?”

“Rough.” You don’t hesitate.

“Rough? Want me to be rough with you, princess?” Taehyung feels dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Wanna be fucked like a slut?”

The shiver that runs through your body could’ve been enough of an answer, but you still grant him a breathy confirmation: “Yes, Tae. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

His eyes flutter shut, and, with his last thread of sanity, Taehyung starts to slowly press his dick inside of you.

He is right. You are soaked. But he’s still the biggest cock you’ve ever had. So, despite his attentive fingering and the insane orgasm he just gave you, your face still translates your discomfort as he stretches you up. Taehyung follows your cues, stopping whenever you wince and shallowly thrusting to ease you to his size, letting you adjust before moving deeper.

When his hips finally — finally — are flush against yours, you both exhale shakily.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He digs his fingers in the flesh of your thigh. “You good? Does it hurt?”

“No… just,” you exhale deeply, “gimme a second.”

While you focus on accommodating his size, Taehyung clears his throat.

“I uh, wanted to ask you something.” You notice the subtle distress in his voice, and the gaze you find when you open your eyes is filled with concern. “And be real with me.” You frown, expression slowly matching his.

“... yeah?”

He hesitates, eyes darting away from you.

“Are you… like, actually into furry?”

You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking when you bring your hands to cover your face. Taehyung’s chuckles are unsure when he joins you, flinching when your body trembles slightly. 

“Be honest!”

“Fuck you, Tae, honestly. You’re balls deep inside of me seriously asking me this shit.”

“I mean, I can’t grow a beard for my life, but we can figure something out if—” 

“Oh god, stop! I do not have a furry kink, Jesus.”

“Thank god!” He sighs. “Was really worried for a second.” Your laughter prompts a smile on his face, and he lowers his face to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You can move now, by the way.”

“You sure?” You nod, pulling him closer.

“Let’s get on to fucking.”

He frowns.

“Damn, you gotta work on your dirty talk.”

“What? You were just talking about furry.”

“It’s different.” He huffs. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

You roll your eyes.

“Go on, baby, rock my world.” 

He chuckles.

“C’mon, that’s not doing anything for me here.”

At that comment, you shift and clench around his cock. His hips buck, reaching even deeper. You pout.

“You seem pretty hard for me.” You hiss when he smacks the side of your thigh.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Just fuck me already.” You brows knit together, and you flicker your eyes down to where your bodies meet, licking your lips. “Please, Tae.”

“You see? That’s way better.”

And fuck you he does.

When Taehyung pushes himself out of you, leaving just the tip, you barely have time to breathe before he’s slamming back inside.

The feeling of his skin dragging against your velvet walls has your mind immediately blanking, head falling back on the pillow.

The ease with which he finds a pace makes you melt under him. You’re already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all his stupid teasing that you just know this will set a pathetic low time record, but you don’t fucking care. You deserve to feel this fucking good, and Taehyung seems to know that too, because despite the struggle it is to keep his eyes open — the desire to shut them and focus on the delicious feeling of your warm pussy squeezing his cock almost unbearable — his gaze is still trained in your face. In the way you bite your lip, or release it in a silent moan when he gets the angle just right; the way your brows knit together in bliss, or arch to your hairline with a particular hard thrust; or, yet, in the way your hold on him turns almost painful, sure to leave him bruised in the sweetest possible way, whenever he leans over you and brushes your clit.

Taehyung is a slow learner — but he learns, and he won’t close his fucking eyes until he identifies how to unwind you, how to fuck you so good he’ll ruin every other dick for you. And he seems to find it when, after a swift change in his angle, you let out a loud, tortuous scream under him, sending a large, proud smirk to his face.

“That’s it–that’s— nghh, fuck, baby, there!” You cry out, lifting your hips off the bed to try and create even more contact as his cock hits your g-spot.

“You feel so good” feral grunts spill from his mouth as he lets his eyes fall shut, “squeezing my cock so fucking tight” he groans.

Taehyung has never felt more grounded, more present. The slapping sounds, your cries, his grunts, everything is so fucking vulgar. The way the soft flesh of your thighs mold under his palm, the way he fills you to the brim every fucking time is good enough proof that this is real, that this breathtaking pleasure is real, and that Taehyung is really fucking you.

“Been… wanting to–to fuck you for so long.” He pants. 

You arch your spine off the bed, chest pressing on his.

“Holy fuck.”

“God, can’t believe this is happening.” He growls.

Your senses, on the other hand, are clouded by the feeling of his cock splitting you, fucking your body senseless and pounding into you like a man on a mission. His size, his girth, the way he twitches inside of you, making your walls even sloppier… he’ll be the end of you. You never wanted to please someone more, especially after having his mouth on you, and you can feel your control gradually slipping away every time he fills you up, reality a distant idea as he fucks you closer to euphoria. And god, you’re so fucking close.

“Yes! Yes, baby, that–that’s it” you sob, hands fisting the sheets so tightly that — if you were thinking properly — you'd be afraid of ripping it.

“God, you're… nghhn— fuck, you feel so good.” He gasps. “Are you close?”

“So fucking close.” You barely acknowledge the words leaving you, the knot in your stomach about to snap.

At your words, Taehyung’s hand leaves your thighs to reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall somewhere in the room. He leans over you, mouth immediately closing around your left nipple, while his large fingers twist and roll the right one. You arch into his touch, sighing when his tongue swirls around your nipple.

“The most perfect tits…” he hums, glazing your chest in his spit as he seeks the other with wet kisses.

“Tae” you moan, hands entangling in his hair and pulling hard, prompting him to give your nipple a light, barely there bite, but it’s enough to make your hips shake under him. “Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cream my cock like a good girl.” He moans, words slurred as he lifts his gaze to you.

Your body starts to shudder violently as he pushes another orgasm out of you. Your legs quiver around his waist and your pussy clenches tightly, shoving a deep, guttural groan from Taehyung’s throat while your mind spirals, washing away any thoughts as his name falls lazily from your lips.

It takes a solid minute before you start to think again, body still rocking with his thrusts as he keeps chasing his own release high. You wince at the overstimulation.

“Tae” you whine, fingers digging into his back.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t this what you wanted?” He slows his pace before grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulder, thighs firmly pressing on his chest. He sinks his cock deep inside of you with each snap of his hips, and you’re immediately gasping for air. “Didn’t you wanna be fucked like a slut?”

“Nghh” god, how is he so fucking good at this.

“You wanted to be fucked dumb. Wasn't it?” You eagerly nod, words evading you. “Then give me one more.” He breathes. “Let me see that pretty face again.”

Taehyung’s not slow, nor gentle this time. Your previous orgasms make his strokes that much easier, more delicious. Loud wet, squelching sounds fall from where your bodies meet.

“Fuuuck— pussy so fucking good.” His praise shoots straight to your core.

As naturally as before, he falls into a rhythm, slamming inside of you. Your head falls back on the pillow, dazed as the position makes him feel even girthier, bigger inside your sensitive walls, rendering you completely unable to form a single thought that isn’t his dick pistoning inside. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of you, grazing your g-spot in a way that has you gasping for air.

The slapping sounds of his skin on yours are sinful, and you take your hands to your tits, slicked with his spit, fondling with them to add to the ever growing bliss. 

He wants to keep saying shit, spill the filthiest fucking stuff just the way he notices that makes you wetter around his cock — but the closer he gets, less can he think properly, his filter completely dissolving.

“Wanna fuck you forever. Watch you cum for days.”

And fuck if that isn’t enticing as fuck for you too.

Your legs get a bit sore from their bent position, but you wouldn’t mind having him fold you half if it meant getting to see Taehyung’s brows knitting together, lips falling apart in silent delight.

“So-so… good… fucking me so good.” Your voice is muffled by the hard banging of the headboard against the wall.

“Shit. I’m close.” You nod. “Where do you want me to—”

“Inside” you interrupt, answer spilling from your lips.

He brokenly moans, mind blanking as his resolve quickly slips away. Thrusting impossibly harder, pouding impossibly faster, Taehyung fucks you eager to fullfil your request. 

You already feel ready to cum again, an odd pressure weighing down on your lower belly. Your mouth falls open, whispering, or rather, mumbling sweet nothings or muddled filth to him — unsure if he's even listening — as pleasure clouds your mind to the point of incoherence.

“Taking me so fucking well, pussy made for my cock.”

Taehyung takes his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he starts to rub it, pressing and circling it with the pad of his fingers as a hard, unannounced orgasm crashes over you. You’re unable to keep still when every nerve of your body jolts with electricity, overstimulation making you lift your back from the bed as a loud scream rips through your throat.

The pleasure that overtakes you blanks your mind, and for a second you feel like you can't stop cumming. Taehyung sounds so distant, and you feel so high, so heavenly, that you almost think you're dreaming the whole thing.

“— all over me.” Is the first thing you hear when your mind starts to clear and your body slowly calms down. 

“Huh?”

You wince as Taehyung keeps fucking into you, pace now careless as he gets close to release, and you tighten your gasp on his arms, fighting through the oversensitivity.

“You just fucking squirted all over me.” You blink at his words, taking a full minute to process them before your head is snapping up in alarm.

Everything is so wet, so sloppy and messy, but before you can say anything — before embarrassment can even reach your skin — Taehyung's body is shaking above you.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He shudders. “I’m cumming.”

His groans are deep as you feel his hot release painting your walls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist, hips jolting with the waves of his pleasure as he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the overwhelming thrill running through his body. He feels so alight, as if he's just been set on fire, and every inch of him burns with bliss.

“Jesus fuck.” 

A lazy smile spreads on your face when he kisses your calves, gently pushing them to rest on the bed. He crashes on top of you, frantic breathing cooling the sweaty skin of your chest.

“I've also…” you gulp, closing your eyes, “also been wanting this for so long, by the way.”

You feel him smiling against your skin.

“Damn. I’m so happy I might just puke.” 

Your body shakes in laughter.

“God, you’re so annoying.” You pinch his side and he squirms, chuckling before tilting his head to face you.

“I kinda get the Jungkook now, though.” You frown, and he opens a large, boxy smile. “I fucking love Soojin. Best gift ever.” 

You giggle, heat creeping up your neck.

“Ugh, get off me.” You push him away, and Taehyung shifts on the bed, hovering over you.

He pulls his softening cock out of your swollen pussy, and you can see his eyes glimmering before his fingers are spreading your folds apart.

“Shit” he hisses, and you can feel the wet mix of his cum and your own release dripping down your folds. Taehyung doesn’t give you any warning before he’s diving down, licking you clean with a swipe of his tongue and making you shudder. He closes his eyes, humming as he swallows everything. After that, he moves to step out of bed, uttering a quick “hold up” before he’s out of the room.

You can hear some cabinets and drawers opening before he’s back, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He proceeds to clean you up with the softest, more tender touches possible, mindful of your sensitivity and halting his movements whenever you flinch, while you soothe your raspy throat. 

“You might need to sleep with me tonight.” You frown. “You made such a fucking mess. Sheets are ruined.”

You scoff.

“And who’s fault is that?”

He smirks.

“Sorry I fucked you so good.” You giggle, covering your face when you feel your cheeks warming up.

“So annoying.”

Jungkook loves Taehyung. They’ve been friends for ten years now and — although there have been days — Jungkook would never change anything about his friend.

…

Maybe make him a bit less murderous in the kitchen. But besides? Taehyung is perfect.

…

Okay, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect, and Taehyung did tell a younger, inexperienced and quite stupid Jungkook that girls get hot when you touch the back of their knees. Not to mention that time when Taehyung dragged Jungkook to a regency costume party — a ridiculous one at that: how is a vampire not a historical costume? He was fucking hot with those red lenses, putting Robert Pattinson to shame with that glitter body spray. 

Anyway, the point is: he loves and cherishes Taehyung, especially the sweet fucking body lotions this guy uses (fuck, he smells good). And he knows Taehyung too. He knows Taehyung better than anyone in the world, probably better than Taehyung himself. And that’s why he knows, the second Soojin confesses what she got you for Christmas, that Taehyung isn’t gonna deal well with it.

“For the last time, babe,” Soojin explains, “a woman should never be ashamed of wanting to feel sexy. You men keep making us feel vulgar about our sexual lives, and create all this taboo about our bodies. No wonder why we hate ourselves. In fact, did you know that—”

“Soojin,” Jungkook sighs, pulling their bags out of the uber’s trunk, “I’m just saying that maybe, maybe, you could’ve given her a heads up not to open the gift with Taehyung… they’re probably super awkward already and a fucking lingerie set won’t help.”

Soojin huffs.

“You have no faith in Taehyung.” Jungkook stops in the pathway to the chalet door, giving his girlfriend a pointed look.

“I know Taehyung, it’s different. This will either make him super self conscious about how he fucking vomited on her, or make him wanna swallow his fist because of how horny he’ll get. Either way he’ll malfunction.” Jungkook pauses. “Fucking is also an option.”

She pouts.

“But didn’t he say that they were cool?”

“Fucking is cool, but he could’ve also meant that he’s been locked in his room for three days.” Jungkook’s face twists in concern. “We’re lucky if he even got out to eat.”

“We’re lucky if they didn’t cook anything. The last thing we need is them food poisoning one another.”

“Not to worry. Taehyung knows the treatment by heart now.”

They reach the door, and Soojin grabs the keys in her purse. They’re careful as they step inside, mindful of it barely being past six in the morning, but any attempt at silence is futile when Soojin’s attention is drawn to the living room couch. 

“The fuck?!” She screams, scaring Jungkook to drop down the bags.

The sharp sound makes you jump away from Taehyung’s lap, losing your balance and falling ass first on the hard floor.

The four of you freeze for a moment, sharing weird, confused looks before Taehyung’s heart finally resumes to a normal pace and he understands that no, the house isn’t being invaded and you two won’t get robbed in nothing but underwear, he can’t help but glare at his best friend.

“Jungkook why the fuck are you here?” He says, extending a hand to help you on the couch after you find your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Wow, nice to see you too, asshole.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the TV when music starts to play through its speakers, a deep frown settleting on his features. “You watching Grinch? The hell?”

Soojin turns to her boyfriend.

“Is Grinch really the most unexpected thing here?”

“Tae, did she force you to watch Grinch?” He narrows his eyes. “You know this ain’t good for you. You won’t be able to sleep.”

Taehyung groans.

“Jungkook, shut up.”

You quickly put on your pajama top, tugging it as further down as you can.

You open an awkward smile.

“Thanks for the gift, Soojin! We— uhm, I really loved it.”

note ↠ sooo, what do we think? 🥹 i hope y’all liked it! it took sO LONG to upload this omg, tumblr just wasn’t vibbing with our himbo!tae 😔 but it's here! i actually had to learn some quick html codes to edit this lol, i'm so stressed

note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated!

note³ ↠ thank you so so very much for reading it 🥹

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