#you’ve been gone 18 months 3 weeks and 4 days | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

Text

When the End Comes | ch 4 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: fear of getting stood up, alcohol, pet names, curses, Jungkook's scars, angst, stubborn Jungkook, pessimism, depressive episode, cliffhanger at the end I'm sorry, explicit content: jerking off, oral sex (male receiving), Jungkook taking pictures of them during (I apologize, I have sinned), balls sucking/fondling, pain kink (Jungkook), deep throating, mouth fucking, unprotected sex, hickey, clit play, degradation, fingering, cum play (ish?)

☆word count: 14.3k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: Rereading each chapter to edit is a challenge bc I just be sobbing the whole time :') I hope you enjoy this one, though it does really hurt oop

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3 and thank you to @jessikahathaway for supporting me with this project, you are amazinnng

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, September 8th

You clutch the gift bag in your hand. It feels strange to be meeting Jungkook again, after last weekend. And even after last weekend, you’re not sure where you’re standing.

Did he spend his whole week thinking about you the way that you were thinking about him?

You texted a little, over the week. Each time a notification from him popped up on your phone, you felt like you’d gone back in time. Like maybe, maybe you took a time machine to a past of better days last weekend. It’s bittersweet in a way, because you feel like there is still so much left unsaid between you and him.

But he’s willing to try. Even if you broke him, even if you’ve been wondering if there’s anything salvageable after all, he’s willing to try. Willing to meet you at a Korean barbecue restaurant halfway between his place and yours.

You check the time, anxiety flooding your veins. He’s running late, though he texted you to tell you he was almost there. A part of you wonders if he’s going to stand you up – you think you’d deserve it. Because you’re not sure you deserve this chance, yet you don’t want to lose it, don’t want to let it go.

You look down at the bag. You bought the gift on a whim this week, and you have no idea if he’ll still want it. It’s a lens he was looking to buy months ago, before he left for Paris, and there’s a high chance that he’ll have bought it for himself since then…

You just couldn’t think about anything other than that to gift him. Even though his work was your demise, you know Jungkook loves photography. Always will, no matter where you two will end up. And since it was his birthday last weekend – before you’d reconnected – you thought why not? Why not get a gift and show him that you still care, that you remember?

Because you’d never forget, when it comes to him. You think, if you had dementia, he’d be the last thing you’d lose, if at all.

You worry at your lip, glancing around. Luckily enough for you, there is a bench outside of the restaurant, though you can only sit on a corner of it as the rest is still wet from the rain earlier. It was raining when you left work, but it fortunately stopped as you were getting ready for the date.

You sigh, looking down at your phone again. Twenty minutes late seems like a long time, considering that Jungkook’s not one to be late usually. A sense of dread takes ahold of your heart, and you already feel tears forming in your eyes.

You were foolish, stupid. Idiotic, if you thought there was a way things could be set right.

You get up, looking towards the door of the restaurant. A couple are waiting in the hall, arms around each other as they hug with not a care in the world. It aches deeply, makes you crave the physical intimacy last Saturday held and you gulp as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

Still you stay rooted in your spot. There’s a light tremor that starts taking a hold of you, and you regret not putting a jacket on even though it isn’t remotely freezing today. Your eyes fall to the gift bag, and you think about May. About the moment you’d let him go – has he gotten too far for you to reach him now?

A tear wins. Or perhaps it’s the gravity, growing ten times stronger as your heart breaks again. As the hope gets lost to you, replaced by that same deep sorrow you’ve become accustomed to. You sigh, the breath of air trembling on the way out.

And then you almost let out a scream as someone touches your arm.

Jungkook startles just as much as you, taking a step back, his big, doe eyes widening even more as he meets your gaze. Your mouth remains open, yet no words come out. You just take him in, take his appearance in – his piercings, the beanie he’s wearing, his flushed cheeks. He looks like he was running, and you think maybe he was.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you.

At that your eyes drop to the bright pink bouquet of flowers he’s holding, and something inside of you heals, as if you’ve found a cure to the disease.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you let out. You meet his gaze again. “You didn’t have to.”

He pulls at his piercings, shrugging sheepishly. “I wanted to.”

It’s warm. Whatever is blossoming in your chest is warm, a stark contrast to the winter you’ve been stuck in since the night you lost him.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and you blink away the tears in your eyes.

You freeze when he wipes the one that’s already rolled on your cheek, frowning slightly at the sight.

“The florist I wanted to go to first was closed,” he says as an explanation. “I had to run around to find another one.”

You offer him a small smile, and his features immediately smooth out into a soft expression too.

“I was scared you were…” you trail off, wetting your lips as you refuse to voice your fear.

Refuse to admit you didn’t have faith in him.

“I thought you would,” he answers carefully. “Hence why I ran.”

You nod. “I…” You look down at the gift bag, holding it up. “I got you a birthday gift.”

His smile is teary when you look at it next, and you take a moment to delve into the depths of his gaze. There’s a small twinkle there, though it is faint, barely even noticeable. If you didn’t know him like the sun knows the moon, you wouldn’t recognize it.

He’s hopeful. It’s strange – there was no hope in Jungkook’s gaze last weekend. Or there had been, for a fraction of a moment, until it had been blown away by the wind. You can only hope that this time it will hold on strong.

“You didn’t have to,” he says, though the curve of his pink lips tells you he appreciates the thought.

He grabs the gift bag, not looking through it right away. Instead, he hands you the flowers, and you delicately take them, bringing them close to your nose so that you can inhale the fragrance. Your eyelids flutter shut, and a content smile moves on your lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur as you meet his gaze again. “And…” You motion towards the gift. “You deserved it. I think you’ll like it.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, as Jungkook looks down at the bag. He offers you a tight-lipped smile, and you cock an eyebrow.

“What?” he lets out.

“Aren’t you going to…” you vaguely answer. “Open it?”

“Oh, now?” He chuckles awkwardly, glancing around before pointing towards the restaurant. “Shouldn’t we go in to give our names?”

He’s got a point. Especially considering that it’s a Friday evening. So you do just that, giving your phone number to the hostess as she tells you there will be a thirty minutes wait. You and Jungkook move back outside after that, and he guides you towards his car, a few streets down.

“How was work this week?” he asks on the way.

“Better,” you admit, remembering how you’d told him that you didn’t like the new department in which you worked.

And it’s true – it has been better. Maybe because the excitement of receiving texts from him through the days made it easier to handle. Or maybe it’s because you haven’t been so damned cold since last weekend. All in all, work has been easier, even if it isn’t as interesting as it used to be.

“I’m glad,” he says, offering you a smile.

Silence surrounds the two of you, only interrupted by a car honking in the street. You startle a little, and Jungkook chuckles.

You’re struck. His chuckles have healing properties, you’re convinced of it. They spark hope into you, so bright you think you’ll be blinded, retina forever burned. Yet your eyes don’t lose focus on him, even as his lips return to a neutral expression.

“What about you?” you ask as your heart picks up in your chest. “What were you up to this week?”

A small crease appears between his brows, but it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it. “I’ve been going to the gym,” he answers. “And looking around for some jobs.”

His last sentence turns the hope into a firework show inside of you. “Yeah? Any luck so far?”

You reach his car, and as he always does, he opens the door for you. You blush, something you haven’t really done with Jungkook in forever, and you’re struck thinking that this feels new.

Perhaps this will be a new chapter in your relationship with Jeon Jungkook after all.

“Thank you,” you mutter as your cheeks burn. You sit in, and he closes the door before moving around the car to get in. You watch him do so, and he sits next to you, turning the car on just long enough so that you can roll the windows down.

“Now,” he lets out, eyeing the bag. “What’s this?”

For some reason, it makes you chuckle, and he shoots you a dumb smile that makes you think you’ve delved right into the heat of summer, warmth spreading through you. It erases the winter, replaces it with blooming flowers and bright sun rays, golden sunsets and the feeling of a soft breeze threading through your hair.

Needless to say, you want to cling to it before winter comes again.

“Open and you’ll see,” you answer, your heart racing as you glance at the bag, before going back to his smile.

He nods, and he opens the bag, taking out the paper first. Your heartbeat increases tenfold because, what if he doesn’t like it?

What if he takes it as an affront that you’ve given him something photography related?

But then he sees it. Sees the lens you bought for him, and his features turn somber, but not in a bad way. They settle into a calm expression, with a softer smile that barely even tugs at the corners of his lips. He takes a deep breath, and then looks towards you again.

Teary eyes find yours, and you think maybe this is it. Maybe this is where the end will find you. Lost in the swirling depth of his gaze, in the forgotten space of you and him.

He whispers your name, emotion making it heavier than the whole world. You nod once, as no sentences take shape in your mind to reply to him. You’re not sure you have to say something – he sees in your eyes the emotions you can’t quite voice.

“You really didn’t have to,” he adds, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps. “Fuck.”

He looks down at the lens, takes it out of the bag so that he can examine it thoroughly. You observe him as he does so, as if you’re watching a show. And you think, maybe he is a show – a movie meant for you to admire on and on until you go old and blindness seeps into your gaze.

“I wanted to,” you reply.

He shoots you a quick look, just as teary as the initial one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then he laughs, a small vulnerable laugh that has you blinking back the wetness building up on your waterline. You echo it with one of yours, though it comes unexpectedly to you. But then again, you reckon you share the same feelings.

You always have, haven’t you? Your soul is in sync with his, has always been, no matter if distance put an end to the story of you and him. Or tried to, because he’s here today.

So are you, and if he allows it, you’ll never leave again.

“I’ve wanted this lens in forever,” he says, voice small as he turns it in his hands, looking at it in every possible angle. “You…” he trails off, meets your gaze and smiles again. “You remembered.”

You nod. “How could I forget?” You worry at your lips, shy away from his gaze to watch your wriggling fingers in your lap. “There isn’t a day I didn’t think of you.”

The revelation seems out of place, in a parked car on the side of a busy street. Yet it comes naturally to you, and meets him just as naturally. Because he nods, and then reaches for you. Grabs your jaw, gently, so that he can turn your head towards him. There’s a moment when you think the whole world holds his breath, and then he leans forward, brushes a soft kiss on your lips.

“I missed you,” he admits as he pulls away, letting go of your jaw reluctantly.

A tear slips on your cheek, and you quickly dry it. “I missed you too.”

And though the moment is heavy with emotion, you don’t want to run away from it. When you were younger, you would have fled like a deer hearing a branch crack in the woods. But today, today you want the weight of this emotion to rest upon you, like a weighted blanket that reminds you you’re alive.

The emotion lingers, past this moment and into the next. As you get the text that a table is ready for you and him, and you move back to the Korean restaurant. As you sit in front of him, watch him smile and laugh in time with you at the stupid jokes that you make.

You and him make more sense than you realized. Or maybe you forgot. Maybe the distance made you forget, but right now you think you know he’ll always be the one. And if you lose him again, he’ll be the one that got away, and you’ll search for him through every connection with temporary people.

Because there can’t be permanent people after him. He’s permanently inked into your heart, carved into your bones.

“How has your family been?” he asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

You offer him a tight-lipped smile, though you know he means your father, Isabel and Louis.

You know he’d never talk about your mother as part of your family.

“They’ve been great,” you answer. “Dad’s been looking to retire, or at least to have a lesser charge at work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows, but says nothing as he puts some meat on the grill between you and him. You observe him as he does so, wincing when flames erupt and he pulls his hand away – quickly enough, thankfully.

“How old is he again?” Jungkook asks after that, meeting your gaze again.

“Fifty-nine,” you reply. “But I don’t think it’s about his age. He just wants to spend more time with Louis.”

The softness that takes over his doe eyes makes you want to curl up in him, against him. Makes you want to listen to his beating heart until the day that it ceases, decades away from now. It’s a strong feeling, and you’re forced to blink away tears again.

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook gently says, and he reaches to pat your cheek.

It makes you laugh. Of course it does, and he offers you a dumb smile again. For the first time that night, you notice that yes, it does reach his eyes. The smile lights up his gaze, though there’s wariness, etched in the lines of his face.

It’s not that you missed it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it. But right in this instant, it’s all you can see, and it makes his smile fall until his eyes follow, moving to the grill. He turns the meat as you busy yourself with eating japchae.

And you don’t like this silence. You don’t like the ache that it carries, so you force yourself to try. To try and fight for him and prove that, after everything, he really is where the end will be, when it comes for you.

“What about your family?” you ask, throwing him a lifeline in the storm you’re sure he’s been plagued with too.

“They’ve been great,” he answers. “My brother’s wife is pregnant again.”

For a moment you forget about the torment between you and him as your mind zeroes in on the fact. “That’s amazing!” you let out, and your smile comes easily. “They must be so happy.”

Jungkook looks at your smile, taking a deep breath. It seems he takes a decision then, because his lips curve up, and some of the wariness fades away. He looks softer like this, younger, and your heart shines under his light.

“It really is,” he says. “I was thinking on going to Korea to see the baby when Yuri gives birth.”

In another world, you would have said you’ll go with him, but right now you don’t think you can. So, instead, you reply, “That’s a good idea. I’m sure your family will be happy to see you.”

He nods, and then he puts some meat in your bowl, taking the two other stripes for himself. You mindlessly pick one of the pieces up, mixing it in ssamjang before eating it. You wince as you burn your tongue a little, and quickly eat the meat so that you can take a long gulp of water.

Jungkook must have expected you to burn yourself, because he laughs at your expense as he refills your glass. “You good?”

You nod. “Sorry, just burned myself.”

“Don’t apologize.”

So you don’t. For the rest of the evening, you try not to apologize. And you think you succeed – you both speak as if distance wasn’t a thing between you. As if time hasn’t come to pass between you too – as if you’ve never been apart. As if, seven years ago, the stars told the truth as they sparkled in the July night sky.

You finish eating while chatting like this, while sharing thoughts about movies you’ve seen. As he tells you about working out, about Bam and the songs he’s been listening to. He drinks a beer as you speak, and you once again take a moment to admire him.

You’d never admit it, but the beanie makes him look good. Comfortable and soft – as does the jean jacket, you reckon. But then again you know Jungkook would look good in anything, one of the advantages of him being gifted with pretty privilege.

And when he clinks his glass with yours, claiming you have to finish drinking even though you’ve only been drinking water, you still laugh with him, still down your glass as he chugs the beer. And you wonder, how long will it take to erase the distance?

Will it take more than this moment in time, to undo the distance and rebuild the closeness?

And you think, maybe it just needs now. Because as you walk out, bellies full and minds buzzing with a slight tinge of alcohol, you accept Jungkook’s extended hand. You let him guide you to his car, even though yours is parked on the other side of the restaurant. He opens the door for you again, but you hesitate for a moment.

Long enough to step closer to him instead, and pull him down so you can peck his lips. He looks surprised, and his features fall serious as you share a long look.

“Can I come over tonight?” you whisper.

He nods. “I thought it was a given.”

Of course he would. And you’re not even mad that he would. You’re rather relieved, and you can’t help yourself. You can’t help pulling him down in a more heated kiss, even though you hate public displays of affection. There are just words your lips can’t say any other way than this, and he gets it. He’ll always get you. He always will, and he kisses you with the same intensity, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other presses on the small of your back, resting flat as he pulls you in. You hold his delicate waist, sighing in the kiss as your thumbs draw idle lines on his sides.

Jungkook pulls away to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a small eternity that leads to you wrapping your arms around his waist. He lets you do it, and you wonder if his soul has found yours. You hope it has, for there are things your soul can say even better than your mouth can.

Apologies don’t mean much when they are shaped in words. But you think your soul could show him, and maybe, maybe tonight he’ll allow you to show him.

“Are you parked somewhere you can leave your car overnight?” he asks softly, lips moving against your forehead.

You nod. “I am.”

“Then let’s go home.”

*****

It comes as a surprise, when you realize Jungkook has moved in the same building as Kiko and Yoongi. Even more so as they run into you on the way in, knowing smiles on their lips as Jungkook holds your hand tight. They don’t really say a lot – both of them aren’t man and woman of words, except when they pour them into the lyrics of a song.

But Kiko does hug you. Does whisper in your ear that she wishes everything will be set right for the two of you, and when you pull away to meet Jungkook’s gaze, you think it already is. Especially as you’re clutching the flowers he got for you, and their sweet fragrance surrounds you.

And then they walk away, as they were leaving to go on a late walk, and you and Jungkook walk in the building, making your way to the elevator. Jungkook presses the call button, and then pulls you close to his chest so that he can press a kiss on the top of your head.

“Well, that was awkward,” he says.

You chuckle. “It wasn’t really.”

His grip tightens around you before he lets you go so that you can enter the elevator. He follows you in, and he intertwines your fingers as he presses on the fourth floor. As the elevator starts moving, you pull him closer, tilting your head back as you pout slightly.

“What?” he asks.

“Kiss me?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. He immediately dives in, and you’re surprised with the strength of the kiss. As if he’s pouring his entire soul in it, and you think maybe he is. After all, you kiss him back with all the fire in you, and it’s burning brighter than it ever has.

Unfortunately, the moment is short-lived as you reach his floor and the doors slide open. He pulls away, presses a kiss on your forehead as if he wasn’t sucking on your tongue a moment ago, and then he pulls you behind him as he walks towards his door.

It’s further down the hall, and you wait excitedly as he unlocks. Though you’re a little worried about seeing Bam again – what if he doesn’t recognize you?

Which, you reckon was a stupid thought, because the dog comes barging out, tail wagging wildly, when Jungkook manages to get the door open.

“Bamie!” you exclaim, and Jungkook carefully takes the bouquet of flowers from your hand to allow you to bend down and pet the dog.

He licks at your face, whimpering as if he thought he’d lost you. It brings tears to your eyes, and you giggle like a kid as you pet him, rubbing his short fur as he keeps running all around you.

“I think he’s happy to see you,” Jungkook deadpans, and you burst out laughing.

You look up to try and look at Jungkook, but Bam jumps in your vision, which makes you giggle again. And then, something magical happens. Something you didn’t think you’d hear again – Jungkook laughs that childish laugh of his, the one that usually only comes forth when he’s really happy.

You act by pure instinct. You stand up, wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck. His giggle dies against your lips, but he’s quick to kiss you back as he snakes his inked arm around your back. You let out a breathy sound, and then burst into a fit of giggles as Bam jumps on you.

“I think he demands attention,” you state and Jungkook nods as you part, though he keeps his arm close to you.

“We should take him on a walk,” he says, and you notice his cheeks are flushed red. You reckon yours probably are too, but there’s something about seeing the effect that you have on him, even after everything, that makes you come undone.

“I’m so happy to be with you right now,” you murmur.

He gulps, eyes shining suddenly. “Me too.” He adds your name softly, before repeating, “Me too.”

You walk in his apartment after that, to put the flowers in a large glass of water since Jungkook doesn’t own any vase. Meanwhile, he disappears in what you assume is the bedroom, only to reappear with his camera. To your surprise, he’s already fitted the new lens on it.

It’s endearing. There’s something so incredibly endearing at the thought that your gift is loved already, that Jungkook already wants to use it. It makes a line of silver appear in your eyes, and you don’t even blink it away as Jungkook angles the camera towards you to take a picture.

“Huh,” he lets out as he looks at the picture. He adjusts some settings, and before he’s had time to take another picture of you, Bam comes up to you, jumping up. His two paws rest on your waist as you laugh, and that’s when Jungkook snaps the picture.

You glance his way to see him smiling softly, and then he nods appreciatively. “I’m going to use this lens way too much,” he comments.

It makes you laugh. “I’m glad.”

And then you’re going outside with the dog. Jungkook brings the camera, and he snaps pictures of the surroundings, of you and Bam. He even takes one of the three of you, though you reckon the angle is clearly unflattering.

It doesn’t feel like it matters. Because you’re struck realizing that this, this moment matters. It matters enough for him to want to commit it to memory, and you wonder if he’s going to add it to all the frames you left behind.

But then again, did he even put them up in his new apartment? From what you could see when you were in, there was no picture visible.

It aches, but then he tells you to smile and you do. You immediately do, because there’s nothing easier than smiling when you’re with him like this. The wariness still clings to him, but it’s barely visible, like a mirage that’s about to fade in the distance.

“Stop taking pictures of me,” you say as he takes another one.

He lets out a noncommittal sound, shrugging his shoulder. “Why?”

You pout as blush creeps on your cheek. “You haven’t taken this many pictures of me since… Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “I took more pictures on our first trip to Korea.”

A beautiful trip, where you’d met his family for the first time. You had gotten along with everyone well, even though your Korean was poor. You got better through the years, but you still have a long way before you can speak in Korean without feeling like everyone is going to judge you.

“That’s beside the point,” you mumble. You motion towards Bam, who’s patiently sitting next to you. “I’m pretty sure he’s done.”

Jungkook pouts, and butterflies take flight in your stomach. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

You’re not quite sure why.

“I just…” he adds, and then shadows cloud over his features. They resemble the sorrow that was surrounding him last weekend, and just like that you think summer has ended. “I haven’t used my camera since…”

You don’t need for him to say it, because you know exactly what he was going to say. Still, it hurts, and your gaze drops to the ground.

“Gosh,” you whisper. You let out a strangled sound. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“We said we’d try,” he reminds you, or maybe he’s trying to remind himself. “Let’s try. For real. So no more apologies.”

“I feel like you deserve thousands of apologies and more,” you admit.

He kisses your forehead, and it’s against your skin that he whispers, “I just want us to move on from what happened.”

You nod, wrapping an arm around his waist to loosely hug him. Unfortunately, Bam pulls on his leash, and you have to let go of Jungkook far too quickly. Still, you meet his gaze, nodding your head again.

“I want to move on too,” you tell him. “If I could, I’d erase everything but…”

He holds out his hand for you to interlace your fingers with his. “But it’s in the past.”

He’s right, yet you see the wariness. It’s still there, though you think soon the mist will dissipate with the rays of the sun. So you follow him in, let him feed Bam before he shows you around his small apartment. It feels like him, in ways you can’t really describe, and you want to stay. You think, if he’d ask you’d never leave again.

“I like it,” you tell him as he finishes the tour in his bedroom, which is only occupied by an unmade bed with white sheet and a small night table with his pair of glasses on top. You notice the LED lights, and a smile moves to your lips. “Please tell me these still shine purple like they did at the house with the boys.”

Jungkook nods, offering you a grin. “Yeah. I thought it’d be great to have a… reminder of a simpler time.”

He turns them on, and you get it. You get it so much you grab the lapels of his jean jacket, pulling him closer to you. His lips are upon yours in an instant, hungry, insistent, ravishing a kiss that makes you light-headed. Especially as he grabs your face, holds on to it like it’s a life buoy in a storm. The piercings push into your bottom lip, their colder temperature making your tongue dart to them, as if to warm them.

Jungkook groans, and then kicks the door of his bedroom shut. He’s had to stop kissing you for that, but he’s kissing you again half a second later, and it’s even more intense, more desperate.

You let go of his jacket, hands blindly moving to his belt as he pushes his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it, moan lightly when he groans again. You fumble with the buckle, but soon enough you get it undone, and you move on to the button of his jeans.

You just want him. Need to feel his body against you, in you. And clearly he needs the same thing, as he pulls away from the hug to take your shirt off. Right as you get the button undone, and then unzip his jeans. You slip your hand in, letting out a breathy sound as you find him already hard. He sits heavy in your hand, and you squeeze him unabashedly.

“Fuck,” he curses, head thrown back as his eyes close. “Baby.”

The pet name has you drop to your knees, and you pull his pants down just enough for his dick to spring free. He doesn’t try to stop you, and you admire him for a time. Admire the brown base of his tip, the veins that run along his length. A bead of precum appears on his slit as you look, and you’re quick to lick it clean. The salty taste fills your mouth, and you look up at him, to see him watching down on you, strands of hair falling in his eyes where they’ve escaped the confines of his beanie.

“Suck it, mmh?” he says.

You grab him, jerking him off loosely. “Yeah?”

His eyes darken behind the strands of hair. He bites at his piercings, cocking his head to the side. And then he’s glancing away and to your surprise, he asks, “Can I take pictures of you while you suck my dick?”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, and he bucks his hips forward. In answer, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him innocently. “Right now?” He nods. “You want to take pictures of me while I suck your dick?”

“If you want to,” he answers. “If you don’t want to it’s fine.”

You close your lips around his tip, sucking once. “You’ll keep the pictures to yourself?”

You don’t know why you’re agreeing. Only know that the lust in Jungkook’s gaze is making you forget everything about common sense. But then again, you highly doubt that Jungkook would ever do anything to harm you.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open as he was about to answer, but when you take his dick as far as you can, he’s silenced. And he’s hard in your mouth, a rod of steel you’ve missed since last week.

“Yeah,” he finally breathes out.

You sit back on your heels. “Then it’s fine.”

He smirks, nodding his head as he finishes taking off his jeans and underwear. “Wait here.”

You purse your lips as he walks away, and you watch him leaving his room to head to where he left his camera. You patiently wait, feeling shy even though you have nothing to be shy about. This is just Jungkook – it’s not like he hasn’t seen you half-naked and on your knees for him before.

It takes him a moment to come back, but when he does, it’s to sit on bed. He’s still hard, and he leans back on a hand as you move closer.

“If you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?” he gently says as you run a hand along his thighs.

You glance at his scar, the familiar knot of skin giving you more confidence than you expected. “You’re going to jerk off to these pictures, mmh?”

He gulps, angling his camera towards you as you lean closer to his dick. You lick at it, and the shutter goes off.

It has you dripping in your panties, unexpectedly.

“So what if I do?” he asks as you grab his dick, stroking him.

The question is rhetorical, and your answer is to wrap your lips around his cock as your eyes flutter shut. You swirl your tongue around the tip and hollow your cheeks as you go down. You hold the gag reflex in as he hits the back of your throat, and you can’t help but moan as you hear his camera again.

You flick your tongue at his frenulum on the way out, and then you stroke his dick as you sit back. You move one hand to his balls, squeezing gently before thinking better of it and leaning forward, sucking on one. He grunts, and you keep your eyes locked on the camera as you jerk him off faster.

Another picture added to the list. And you’re dripping wet. Already you want to sink on his dick, want him to be so deep inside of you that you’re just one.

“Kook…” you murmur, and then you’re back to sucking on his dick, though this time you make sure to squeeze his balls too, the way that he likes it. Hard, but not too hard, and you’re choking around his dick in no time as he starts fucking up in your mouth, clearly forgetting about the pictures.

It goes like this for a while, with his dick growing impossibly hard. Your jaw aches by the time he pushes down on your head, hand lost in your hair. You gag, and he moans loudly. You think he’s coming, but he somehow manages to keep it in before pulling you off.

“Shit,” he curses. “Sorry.” He breathes for a moment, as you wipe your mouth and chin from the drool.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. You glance at the camera. “Any good pics?”

That brings him back to the land of lust and passion, and he offers you a smirk. “We can look at them after. I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, because you know you’ve barely started. Know you’re likely to be unable to walk tomorrow. Because the lust in his gaze hasn’t shone so bright in years, yes, but also because you almost lost each other.

Or maybe you have, and this too is just a dip in the past.

You stand up, hands snaking to your back so that you can unclasp your bra. Jungkook watches you carefully, before taking a picture as you massage your breasts. It makes you bite at your lower lip, and you look at his hard dick where it rests on his stomach.

“Can I ride you?” you ask breathlessly.

He smirks. “You don’t want me to finger you first?”

Instead of replying, you finish undressing, taking off your pants and panties at the same time. You then push on his jean jacket, and he takes that as a cue to remove it. You motion to the shirt too as he was about to lean back on his hand and he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raised. When you nod, he takes it off too, and it makes his beanie fall.

His hair is a mess, and you can’t resist but step forward so that you can push it back, though you think the jet black strands are currently untamable. You give up after a few seconds, pushing on his chest so that he lies back.

His eyes are on you as you climb on his lap, and you grind along his length, coating it with your juices.

“Shit,” he lets out again. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You nod, moving up just enough so that you can grab the base of his dick. His tip prods your entrance, and he pulls at his piercings as you wait there, teasing him with a corner smile on your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he growls.

It undoes something in you. Because yes, you wanted to tease him. You wanted him to beg you to fuck him, but now you sink down on him, until he reaches your cervix. Even the pain of him hitting the back of your pussy doesn’t make you move, and your walls clench around his dick as he grunts out a curse, followed by your name.

“Kook,” you purr. “Fuck me good.”

He chuckles as you circle your hips, and his free hand rests on your hip as he angles his camera to take a picture of you again. “You can’t do the work?”

He says it condescendingly, and you find enough challenge in you to start bouncing up and down. It shuts him up, and the following moment is spent with you fucking yourself on him as he groans under you, your breathy moans filling his room. Soon enough he stops taking pictures, putting his camera down next to him so that he can hold your hips with his two hands.

And then he’s fucking up in you, and you cry out as you lean forward, wrapping an arm around his neck while your other hand holds on to his shoulder.

You’re a mess, yet your heart clenches in your chest as he fucks you like this. As you remember a land of winter, that somehow doesn’t feel as distant as it should. Maybe because of Jungkook’s wariness tonight, or maybe because you know all good things come to an end.

The thought douses your arousal, until Jungkook stills deep inside of you and whispers, “I want to be with you, like this, forever.”

You nuzzle your face in his neck and suck a mark on his skin. “Me too.”

And then he’s fucking you again, hard and quick. He holds you close, grunts in your ear as you lick at his neck. It’s an abundance of sensation, and your brain focuses on the way he hits your clit whenever he pushes up. Whenever his hips snap against you, and soon there’s an orgasm in the distance.

It finds you when he lets you sit up so that you can fuck yourself on him again, and his thumb finds your clit to press expert circles on it. It finds you hard, and your pussy spasms repeatedly on his dick. He helps you through the high, and when you finally come down, a dumb smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

“Fuck,” you let out.

“Felt good?” he asks with a teasing tone to his voice, the one you know he only reserves for you.

To hear it right now makes you love him so much you think you’ll die on the spot. Because yes, tonight has been great. Yes, it’s almost been like before, but what if he doesn’t take you back?

What if, in the end, this was just an extended moment meant to be closure for you and him?

“Yes,” you still reply.

Because no matter how much your heart aches in your chest, you’ll never lie to him.

“Good,” he says. He sits up, wraps an arm around your waist to steady you as he brings his mouth to yours.

You go in for the kiss. Meet him halfway, and you moan against him as he moves under you, albeit clumsily from the position.

His lips will make you drunk. Make you dumb, make you forget that there’s a world outside the door. That, in that world, you might not belong to him anymore. But then again, you think you do. To you, you always will.

“Lie on your side,” he says after a moment, lips moving against yours.

Jungkook pecks your lips one last time before you move, and then he kneels behind you. His dick prods your entrance again, and he grabs his camera to snap another picture.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises as he pushes the tip in, taking another picture. “Such a good little fucking slut.”

And then he pushes all the way in, until all of him is embedded in you. You grip the sheets as a broken moan escapes your lips. He holds your hip with one hand, fingers digging in the supple skin as he fucks you hard, chasing his own orgasm.

He looks good doing it. Long hair sticking to the sweat on his face, eyes narrowed in pleasure, mouth open as soft grunts echo through the room. The purple light makes his honey skin glow somehow, and you feel another orgasm reaching for you, though it doesn’t hit right away. It just feels so good – as he always does – and you can’t help but clench your walls against him.

That’s what undoes him. He comes, ropes of white painting your insides, as he swears and says your name in a litany that almost makes you go over the edge too.

“Baby,” he says at the end.

It feels like a confirmation. Like a confirmation that, maybe, maybe you will work this time around. That maybe distance won’t destroy you again – maybe you’ll grow old and gray by his side.

“You came so much,” you say as you feel his hot cum sitting deep inside of you.

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. And then he pulls out, and he takes a picture of the cum dripping out of you. He decides to push it back in, curling a finger inside of you, and your walls clench as you moan.

“Touch your clit,” he tells you.

You don’t need to be told twice. You quickly move your fingers to the sensitive bundle of nerves, drawing quick circles on it as he pushes another digit inside of you, fingering you until the second orgasm finally finds you.

You cry out his name, a broken plea that doesn’t really make any sense as your vision turns white. And it stays that way for a long time, blinding you until ecstasy is swimming in your blood. And when you come down from the high, all that you can think is how much you missed him.

“Kook,” you breathe out.

“Baby…”

He puts the camera away, and then bends to press a kiss on your lips. It’s soft, and you grab his face to hold him in place, not even wincing as a bead of his sweat rolls on your cheek. You kiss him with a heart heavy with emotions, trying to show him that you’re never going to leave again. When he pulls away, you notice his teary gaze.

“Can we be together again?” he asks, and you watch in horror as a tear rolls on his cheek. You sit up, drying it with your thumb.

And you don’t care if it was too quick. Don’t care that there’s a high chance it won’t last. You still answer, “Yes, Kook. Yes we can.”

He smiles, nodding his head. “Let’s take a shower. I want to hold you tonight.”

You want to cry from the statement, want to tell him that you wish he could hold you forever, but the words get lodged in your throat. Instead, you follow him as he gets up, interlacing your fingers with his as he leads you to the bathroom, uncaring that his seed is rolling down your inner thighs.

He turns the shower on, and soon enough you’re standing under the hot water. He watches you carefully, presses a kiss on your forehead when you stand in front of him. You wrap your arms around his waist, holding him as close as you physically can. Even then it’s not enough – you want him under your skin, or to be under his.

You don’t think you’d survive being parted from him again. Maybe that’s why you let him fuck you again when you return to his room, slower this time, lips entwined in a never-ending embrace. Love flows between you and him, and it’s etched in the way your bodies move together, in the way you’ve been molded perfectly for him, and him for you.

You wonder if outside, the stars are shining. And you’re struck thinking that tonight, tonight they’ve aligned for you and him again, the universe agreeing for this second chance between you and him.

So you hold him close, and pray that this time around, forever is waiting for you.

Saturday, September 9th

Jungkook wakes up slowly. Softly, the same way waves hit the shore at low tide. He’s unusually warm, and he frowns as he shifts, trying to turn on his side. Then, he realizes his arm is stuck under something. His very dead arm, and he cracks an eye open.

That’s when he remembers that it’s you. You’re the one sleeping next to him, mouth slightly agape as you breathe softly. You’re also the one crushing his arm, and he tentatively clenches and unclenches his fist to try to get the blood circulation back on track. It doesn’t really work, so then he stops, figuring he’s going to have to make you move somehow.

But you look peaceful, in the light of the rising sun. Serene, like there’s never been anything wrong in this world. This morning, Jungkook wants to believe it. Wants to believe that happiness is all he’s ever known – that accidents, heartbreak and pain are all constructs of his imagination.

He’s too realistic for that. Or perhaps the breakup has made him pessimistic. Because the peace of the moment doesn’t really linger, and he’s stuck reliving the moment you left, that night in May. Stuck reliving the wait for you to come back, only you never did.

Or maybe you did, months later. Maybe you really are back, and this time you’ll stay.

You mumble something in your sleep, startling him. It takes him a few seconds to realize you’re still deep asleep, but when you move he quickly does too, pulling his arm from under your head. You frown, lick your lips, and then your features smooth out as you return to your peaceful slumber.

He turns on his side, watching you carefully. He’s aware that watching you sleep is creepy, but he can’t help it. Not when his bed has been empty for months.

He stays like this for a while, unable to fall back asleep. Because, what if you’re gone when he wakes up again? He doesn’t want to risk it.

Unable to help himself, he gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. You sigh, and he’s afraid he’s woken you up. When a small smile appears on your lips, his heart skips a beat, yet you don’t show any other sign that you’re awake. He assumes you aren’t, and then decide to take a picture of this moment.

He feels like he’s going to need it. Like all the pictures he took yesterday – he was desperate to commit to memory as much of you as he possibly could. He feels bad – he said he’d give you a chance, he is giving you a chance, but some part of him is just waiting for it to blow up in his face.

Maybe if he expects it it will hurt less.

He carefully grabs his camera where he left it on his night table. He doesn’t dare take a look at the pictures you took yesterday, a little ashamed that he asked you to do that in the first place. Silently, he takes a picture of you, and then puts the camera away.

Only, the reminder of the kind of pictures he’d find in the camera was enough to make his blood stir, and he picks it back up almost immediately.

And then there you are, in all your glory. Beautiful as ever, pussy filled to the brim with his cum, with his cock. Tits squeezed in your hands, in his, and his dick goes rock hard as blood leaves his head.

He wants you again, and he wants you now. He doesn’t care that it’s early morning, that he never liked waking up early. All he can do is put the camera down and slide closer to you. He pulls you back into his embrace, and you sigh softly as he wraps his arms around you.

Jungkook holds you tighter, nuzzling his face in your hair. The inebriating scent of your shampoo fills his nose, and his dick twitches in his underwear.

You hum, and he holds you tighter. “Morning,” he says, voice low and gravelly.

You make another sound that can pass as a hum, but you move against him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his middle. There’s a moment where silence reigns again, and Jungkook is afraid you’ve fallen back asleep, but then you say, “Morning.”

He smiles. “Slept well?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

He’s convinced you’re smiling against him as you say, “Want to sleep more.”

He whines, which earns him a chuckle from you that makes the wariness settle back in, even as his heart feels full in his chest.

It never felt full without you. Another reason why he needs to be ready for the blow, whenever it comes.

“I want you,” he admits. “Can’t sleep.”

You hum again, and your hand slides down his back. You squeeze his ass, and then move the hand back up. “You’re going to have to try.”

He whines, lips jutting out in a pout. “Boring.”

At that you laugh, pushing him slightly until you’re able to look him in the eye. He keeps the pout on, knowing that it always worked with you before.

“It’s not even morning,” you point out.

“The sun is up.”

You roll your eyes, though your lips are curved upwards, your gaze beaming as you hold his. “We fucked twice last night.”

He shrugs, rolling on his back so that he can stare up at the ceiling. He pulls at his piercing, the new one, and then turns his head towards you again. “Yeah, and?”

“Surely you don’t need to fuck right now,” you tease.

He frowns, looking away again. “Not my fault if I haven’t fucked since… May. Last weekend doesn’t count.”

“I’m pretty sure it does,” you say, laughing lightly. You prop yourself up on an elbow, blinking away the tiredness as you meet his gaze again. “And besides,” you pause, features turning confused as a crease appears between your brows. “Haven’t you fucked while we were…” you trail off, motioning vaguely around you.

And then something occurs to Jungkook. Something bad – maybe the explosion was closer than he expected it to be. Maybe he’s been standing in the radius of impact, waiting for the bomb to go off. And maybe your sleep deprived brain forgot the measure of protection, maybe it forgot he was standing there.

Because your eyes go round with fear, right as a drop of lead solidifies in Jungkook’s stomach.

“What?” he lets out.

What a stupid question to ask. He wants to beat himself up, because he knows.

He knows now that you’ve been with someone else. Why else would you be surprised that he hasn’t?

“I’m just saying…” you try, but it’s too late.

The bomb has gone off, and all that’s left is rumbles.

“Get out,” Jungkook says, and somehow it’s lacking bite. It’s lacking anger, lacking any signs that he cares for you.

It surprises even himself – doesn’t he care? Or is there nothing left of him in the aftermath of the explosion?

“Kook.”

“You’ve fucked someone else,” he states. When you don’t say anything, just watch him in horror, he sits up in bed. “Get out.”

“Come on,” you let out this time, following him up. You wrap yourself in the blanket, his blanket, and he wants to rip it from your body. Doesn’t want anything that’s his to be in contact with you anymore. “It didn’t mean anything,” you say, and you’re suddenly blinking back tears. “It was just one-time.”

“Frankly, I don’t want to know,” Jungkook says, and he really doesn’t. Doesn’t want to think about another man’s hand on you, or he’ll break.

He’s done breaking for you.

You don’t fight the tears, as you understand that the end really has come. At least that’s what he thinks happens – you just sit there, gaze heavy with tears until they fall, little droplets that carry a world of regret.

After all, the distance really was enough to break you up, wasn’t it?

Jungkook watches you, surprised that his heart is not clenching in his chest. No, he feels nothing as he watches you – he’s already cried enough for you.

“We were broken up,” you murmur, holding his gaze. “It’s not like I cheated.”

At that he laughs, shaking his head. If you can’t understand that he’s done, that he doesn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore, then he’ll do it the harsh way.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he says. “I couldn’t be with someone else. I tried, and you were all I could think of. And…”

“You tried!” you interject. “You tried and you’re giving me shit for it?”

He gets up, trying to put distance between you and him, as if that’ll make the fight easier.

“I still chose not to do it,” he coldly states. “The girl was willing, she even kissed me and…”

“You kissed someone else?”

He laughs again, the absurdity of the situation dawning upon him. “Yeah? Tae set me up on a date, and the girl kissed me at the end and I told her I couldn’t. I didn’t fuck someone else.”

The way he’s throwing the blame at you feels selfish, especially as more tears join those already sliding down your cheeks.

“How is that fair, that you’re mad at me when you literally went on a date with someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob as you try to dry your cheeks. “Come on, Kook, it meant nothing.”

“Who did you fuck anyway?” he asks.

For a reason unknown, your tears stop. Entirely, there a moment and gone the next. “Why do you want to know?”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t fucking want to know, and he scoffs as he runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands. “Get out,” he says again, still as stern and void of emotion.

“It was Harrison,” you still say. “I switched departments because I didn’t want to see him again after that.”

Now, there’s an inkling of pain tickling the carcass of his dead heart. As if there was still more, for him to feel, even after everything. As if pain is but a constant of his life now, and he thinks maybe it is.

“Your colleague?” he repeats, dumbfounded.

He’s met Harrison a couple of times, throughout your relationship. He’s always thought the guy was decent, but now something very ugly settles deep in his core. Something that tells him, ‘Hey, maybe he’s only ever wanted to fuck her, maybe he was waiting for his chance’.

The words are on a loop in his head, and he doesn’t even think he can see you anymore. All that he sees is Harrison with his hands on you, in his ever-too creative mind.

He startles as you put a hand on his arm. He shrugs your grip off, steps away from you. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Kook, I swear, please listen to me,” you beg, and now you’re crying again.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to.” At that he shuts his eyes, runs a hand on his forehead and then through his hair. “I really don’t want to. I don’t want you to be here anymore.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you say, an echo of something you said earlier. Though this time you say it differently, as if you too sensed the finality in Jungkook’s tone.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever want you to be around anymore. He was stupid to give you a chance after you broke his heart – you chose to break up, months ago. Why would it be different this time around?

“It doesn’t matter,” he tells you, as softly as he can. Because he knows you’ll break even more, and some dark, twisted part of him is satisfied that this time, this time he’s the one with all the power over you. “I’m done, Y/n.”

The words sound like thunder, in all their calmness. In all their softness – or maybe that was the sound of your heart breaking. Whatever it was, Jungkook really is done. He wants you gone, wants to be able to break in the quiet peace of his home.

A home you aren’t a part of anymore.

You nod. He expects you to fight more, but you nod. Choke out a sob, turn around, and start putting your clothes on. He figures he should dress too, so he does, picking up discarded items of clothing on the floor, not caring that they probably aren’t clean. All that he cares about is to get you out of his apartment, out of his sight.

And when you’re ready, he walks you to the front door. Lets you say goodbye to Bam, a crushing parallel to the time you’ve said goodbye in May. Bam still looks confused, and Jungkook feels bad, for a moment. Because you were the dog’s mother – he’s been looking for you ever since May. Jungkook can only hope that, this time around, Bam understands that it’s farewell.

When you straighten, you mutter an apology. Jungkook ignores it, holds your gaze expecting something to hurt, but he’s just empty. Empty and tired, and all he wants is to go back to sleep and to never wake up again.

“I can’t let you go,” you let out, voice stark with pain.

He shrugs. “You should have realized that in May.”

You close your eyes, and you look so fragile. Like glass – it never survives the shockwave of an explosion, doesn’t it?

“Please,” you beg. “Let me make it up to you.”

He laughs bitterly. “How? You’re going to go back in time and not get fucked by him? You’re going to go back in time and not break up?”

You look like you want to curse him, and he almost wants you to. He wants you to fight, wants you to make him feel something other than this emptiness. Instead, you shake even more, sobs racking through you.

“I wish I could.”

“Leave.”

“Jungkook, I swear,” you insist. “Let’s not lose each other over this.”

He wets his lips, tongue pushing in the inside of his cheek next. “We’ve lost each other already. It’s time we realize that we have.”

And that does it. You fall silent, defeat washing over you like a tsunami wave – there’s nothing left after its passage, and you look tired, sick, standing there right next to the door.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize again.

He shrugs. “It’s whatever. The past is the past.”

You look like you want to say something else, but somehow you remain silent. Somehow you look at him for a time, bloodshot eyes taking in his features as if it’s the last time you’ll ever see him again. He surprises himself by doing it too, mostly by instinct. Because right now, looking at you makes him want to be sick, but he knows that it won’t last.

He knows that the echo of pain in the distance is a good indicator that he still has it in him to break for you. That he’ll break for you forever, perhaps. Because he doesn’t think that there’s an end to you and him. It’s always going to be a cycle, and it’ll never end well.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” you murmur.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile. “Goodbye.”

All he can do is hope you know it means farewell.

Thursday, October 5th

You used to love fall. The cooler weather, the long walks that smell like soil and fallen leaves and pumpkins. Nowadays, you hate fall.

You hate it because he loved it, and every reminder of him is poison to you. And though the season is still early, the days are getting shorter, and the longer the night, the more you drown in thoughts.

You haven’t slept in weeks. Have barely eaten too, and you’ve been off from work for a week. It’s allowed you to stay in, to just sit and try to breathe, hoping that it’ll help.

That it’ll fix something that’s never going to be fixed.

You’re lost. Lost in a town that used to be your home, lost in memories that used to be beauty brought to life – now, you’re seeing the ugliness in beauty. Because beauty is temporary, and like all temporary things in life it doesn’t last long enough. Beauty, and the ending temporality of it, leaves nothing when it goes but a bitter taste in mouth.

Perhaps that’s why you haven’t been able to eat properly.

You haven’t spoken to anyone, since the early morning he asked you to leave. Yet for some reason, you’ve felt the need to go outside today. To walk around, aimlessly perhaps, but you couldn’t stay inside a second longer. Too many tears were shed in your apartment, and you hoped the cool weather would help you feel better.

It does, a little. Because you feel like you’re breathing him in every time you inhale, and then carry him out on an exhale. You feel close to him, in a distant way that’s bound to only make you break harder tonight, but right now you can’t bring yourself to care. You do hate the reminders of him, but you need them. Viscerally, as he was the oxygen in your lungs for so long.

You’re going to have to learn how to live without him, one step at a time.

So you take another step, let your instinct carry you where you have to go. Maybe it knows how to heal.

The sun is descending in the sky, and the absence of clouds lead to a sea of azure you’d swim in if you could. You’d soar up high, so high that there isn’t oxygen anymore, and maybe then the pain would cease. You’d ride a sunray into the night, where you’d finally be able to fall into a well-deserved slumber.

As you look up, a tiny bird flies across the sky, a small speck of brown that goes so fast you think you imagine it. Like the years with him – they went by so quickly, the crushing wheel of time spinning down the slope towards the end.

Seven years ago, almost to the day, you kissed him on a hotel roof lost in Chicago, under clouds painted with fire. Who knew seven years later you’d be trying to live without him, clearly failing at it.

You sigh, pushing the thought away as you reach a crossing. You wait for the light to turn green, then follow the parallel white lines across the road. You avoid a pile of leaves, though a strong gust of wind makes some of them swirl around you, spinning like Mother Nature’s tiny dancers.

The foliage in the trees along the street is golden and red, bright colours that look out of place in the bleakness of your heart. You follow them, wonder if they know that they are about to die. The answer is one you’ll never have, and so you walk under the trees, the autumn breeze playing with your hair.

You don’t know where your steps have been carrying you. You’ve long gone past the places you usually go to, heading towards the middle of the city. The no man’s land between you and Jungkook, spread wide in a maze of streets you want to get lost in.

So you do. You press on, walk until the sun becomes a ball of melted gold nearing the horizon, and it’s on the corner of a street that a glint in a vitrine catches your eyes.

You eye the rings, crafted by an expert hand. Bands of gold, with diamonds and emeralds and gems you don’t know the name of. They look expensive, elegant, and you wonder if you would have had a ring on your finger one day, bought by him.

Recklessly, you walk into the shop, wishing to peruse its vitrines, hoping they’ll offer you dreams to survive the night. And you can almost see it – a ring on your finger, a proposal under a star-sprinkled sky, an intimate wedding for you and him. A dance, always and forever, of love shared like a secret in the night. Your secret, as the end would have one day come for you and him, an eternity of life later. You would have been old and grey, yet your love would have been young and eternal.

In this dream, he would have never taken the job overseas. You’d have stayed here, together, growing old by his side. You would have gotten more dogs, maybe even a cat, and you’d have lived happily ever after.

You wonder if, in a parallel universe to yours, the dream is unfolding. If parallel-universe you has the chance to experience it, and you think she does. You think she does, and the love is so strong it’s shaking through universes, picking you up like you’re just a leaf in an autumn wind.

Because why else, then, do you find yourself buying a gold band? Too big for you, masculine in its simplicity. Something you think he would have worn, had you been in that other universe.

You sit on a bench outside, after, as the last of the sunlight finally fades away, replaced by a blue dusk that matches your mood far better than the sun ever could. You have no idea where you are in the city, no will to brave the trek back home – you’ve been out for hours at this point.

You grab your phone, long forgotten in your purse. You haven’t touched it all day, and to your surprise you’ve received a couple of texts while you were walking, all by the same person.

[04:37 pm] Jimin: hey, this is going to sound crazy [04:37 pm] Jimin: and I’m really sorry to be telling u this [04:37 pm] Jimin: can u go check on JK? [04:38 pm] Jimin: he’s been unreachable for days and at this point I think he’ll only talk to u

You want to text him back to fuck off, to leave you alone, yet you hold on tighter to the velvety box in which the gold band hides. After all, even if you’ve received the texts hours ago, you’re realizing perhaps that that’s where your steps have been leading you anyway.

It’s stupid – he asked you to leave. Hasn’t contacted you once since then, and it’s like the wedding and the week after never happened. Like you’ve been broken up for months, like you barely know him anymore. He’s a stranger now, in your life, something you’d never thought he’d become someday.

And why would he talk to you? Why would he want you in his vicinity, when he made it clear as spring water that he was done, that the end had come to pass between you and him?

But if the end has come, why is that you’ve been feeling like you’re surrounded by him, today? Like you’ll always be – just a drop of water in the sea of him. Perhaps you are weak, to feel for him the way that you do, but seven years ago, the cataclysm that started you and him shook you, and its repercussions are still felt today. Will be felt until your dying breath, until all that’s left of you is stardust.

So you let your feet carry you, weightless in the way that you’re moving forward. Like you are once again but a leaf carried by the wind, and you can only hope that it’ll let you land in the right place.

You don’t really know how you make it to his building. Perhaps you were closer than you initially thought you were – all that you know is that you recognize the building, and that you sense his proximity through the walls.

Your heart reaches for him, longs for him in a way you can’t ignore anymore. Because you’ve been dead, without him. Just a shell of what you should be, of what you want to be. Because yes, you could learn to live without him. After everything that you’ve been through, you know well enough that you are strong enough to do it.

But you don’t want it. You want that dream you’ve found in the jewelry shop, want to make it possible. Want to prove that, no matter who would ever get close to you, he’ll always be the owner of your heart.

So you walk in. Reach the elevator, press on the call button. Then on the fourth floor, reminiscing the night you rode the elevator in his company, right before the fall. The new fall, a harshest one that made you reach those low levels of hell that living without him are consisted of.

You awaken when you are standing in front of his door. You think you can almost hear him inside, moving around through his home. You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, where you’re standing. If he too can tell that you’re nearby once again, even though you shouldn’t have been.

Even though farewells have come to pass between you and him.

You don’t knock. You don’t have to. To your surprise, the door opens in front of you, slowly, before you’ve even managed to raise your arm to knock. Then his voice fills your ear, as he tells Bam to wait. You just stand there, dumbfounded, and then his eyes move from the floor to your face, and his mouth falls open.

Bam jumps on you, tail wagging wildly as you take a step back from the force of impact. You pet him on the head, pushing him back to the floor as you try to focus on Jungkook.

And then it dawns upon you that you have no clue what to tell him. You reckon you maybe should have prepared something in advance, because you’re wordless standing in front of him.

“Hey,” you eventually say, and you think the world has time to revolve around the sun three times before you manage to say something else. “How are you?”

His mouth slowly shuts, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He pulls on Bam’s leash, tells the dog to sit, before he finally addresses you. Just your name, and the way he says it make it sound formal, like you’re just a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asks after another moment.

You look down at your hands. At the box you’re holding, and his eyes follow after you. “I was thinking of you, today,” you admit.

He sighs, and his eyes shut. “You were?”

You nod as he meets your gaze again. “When am I not?” Your comment doesn’t ask for a response, and he doesn’t offer you one either. “Jimin told me you’ve been unreachable.”

“Yeah,” he lets out. “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh.” You try to look behind him, as if you’ll find his reason to be busy there. “Can I talk to you?”

He says your name, this time like an apology. “I told you we were done.”

You shrug. “I know.” You gulp, fingers playing with the velvet box as if it’ll help ground you. “Can I walk Bam with you, then?”

He looks conflicted but he gives in. Says yes in a defeated way that rips your heart from your chest, in a way that makes you cling to the ring box even more, hoping that it’ll offer you salvation.

Being outside in the early fall evening with him feels like the Earth has finally returned to its normal axis. You don’t say anything, unable to find the words, and he remains silent too. You just enjoy his company, watching over Bam as he sniffs at plants before peeing on a pole.

Stars are twinkling in the sky up above. The breeze is still soft tonight, caressing your features in a gentle embrace that resembles the one he’d used to offer you, though it’s far colder than his. You spare a glance at him – he’s already looking, and he doesn’t look away as your gazes connect.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again.

You wet your lips. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“How is that an explanation?” A shrug of your shoulders is all the answer he gets. He scoffs, shakes his head slightly, and then his head turns toward the door of his building. “I have hot chocolate inside,” he tells you, once again sounding defeated. “Do you want a cup?”

Turns out salvation wasn’t to be found in the velvet box you’re holding, but in the gentle angles of Jungkook’s features, behind his big doe eyes that will forever feel like home to you.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you tell him, voice soft. “I just wanted to… talk.”

“Then let’s talk over a cup of hot chocolate,” he says.

Which is what you do. You follow him in, feeling like you’re out of place in his life. Like he’s only giving this to you because of what you used to be to one another. Yet you don’t care. You’re slowly finding words, your brain shaping them into sentences to change an ending you can’t come to terms with.

Jungkook prepares the hot chocolate in silence, as you sit at his small dinner table. You play with Bam as he does so, a game of tug-of-war that you’re bound to lose as the dog is far stronger than you. Yet you still indulge, as you’ve missed Bam far more than you even thought possible.

The game is only interrupted when Jungkook rests a cup of steaming hot chocolate on the table next to you. You let Bam go, and the dog trots away to go play somewhere else, you can only assume.

“What did you want to talk about?”

You’ve left the ring box on the table. You’ve noticed Jungkook glancing at it repeatedly since you’ve put it there, and you worry at your bottom lip.

“I wanted to apologize again, for what it’s worth,” you answer. “I felt horrible when it happened, and just wanted to forget all about it.”

His features turn harsh, and his eyes drop into the cup of hot chocolate he’s nursing for himself. It reminds you of a café, of a conversation you had years ago, that led to you opening up to him, and to him opening up to you.

“I love you,” you continue. “I haven’t stopped loving you, and if I’d known that breaking up would hurt so much, I would’ve fought harder. I wish I had, and I wish I’d never let you go.”

“But you did…” he says when you remain silent for a few seconds.

“But I did. And I understand if you hate me for it. If you don’t want to ever see me again. But shit, you’re the only thing that I’ve been able to think about. Just you, and everything that could have been, had I been stronger.”

You grab the cup of hot chocolate, the warmth of it slowly seeping through your cold fingers. For the next few minutes, you don’t say anything, and neither does he. You just drink the hot chocolate, hoping you’ll find more words to say at the bottom of the cup.

“The distance was hard,” Jungkook eventually says. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things over it.”

It surprises you. Makes your brain go entirely empty, and you just watch him with wide eyes for a few seconds.

He shrugs as you don’t say anything. “What?” He looks down, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. “I’ve been thinking about everything too.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I over-reacted, when you told me you had sex with Harrison,” he admits.

Totally not expecting the conversation to take this turn, you’re stunned silent.

“I was shocked, and needed time to process,” he continues. “You were right, the fact that I went on a full-on date is just as bad, differently. We were broken up, we didn’t owe each other anything.”

As much as it pains you to agree, you still do, nodding your head. “We didn’t.”

He purses his lips, holds your gaze for a few seconds before glancing down at his cup. The silence is more comfortable now, as you think maybe, maybe then the dream you’ve dreamed about isn’t just a distant mirage of what could have once been. It’s foolish, but you can’t help it.

You think your heart is beating for the first time since you left that morning weeks ago.

“Did you want to speak about anything else?” he asks after he’s taken a long sip of his hot chocolate.

You take a deep breath, and somehow courage finds you on the long exhale. “I don’t want us to be over.”

You think you hear him gulp. “You don’t?”

Blinking away a few tears, you shake your head no. “I really don’t. I walked around all day today, and all I could think about was you. All I could think of was all the years between us, from when we met to a few weeks ago. And I don’t know, I refuse to accept that the end has come.”

“When does it come, then?” he asks.

“When the end comes?”

He nods.

“After years and years,” you say, allowing yourself to voice your dream. “Hopefully after we’ve had years to live together. After we’ve gotten married, and maybe even after we’ve had kids. Not that I want some.” You pause, and you look down at the table, unable to carry the weight of his gaze anymore. “Or maybe after we’ve had plenty of dogs, a cat or two. After we’ve had a house with a white picket fence, after we’ve danced under a thousand different night skies.” A tear rolls on your cheek, and you do nothing to stop it. “After we’ve travelled the world together, after we’ve had a chance to live, together.”

“And what happens after we’ve lived together?” he presses.

You shrug. “Then we die together. Then we turn into stardust and memories. I don’t care. As long as it’s with you, I don’t care what happens to me.”

Blurry behind the wall of tears in your eyes, you see Jungkook run a hand through his hair. “You don’t?”

“I don’t,” you echo. “I just want to get to love you.”

At that you do cry. And not just a little bit. Your heart longs and yearns for him, reaching in the space between you, trying to find a beat to sync with. You wipe your cheeks dry with trembling hands, before pressing the heel of your palms on your eyes, hoping to stop the cascade at the source.

“It’s a nice dream,” Jungkook says after the few minutes it takes you to collect yourself, your hands falling to the table.

“Is it?”

He nods. “Yeah. I don’t think we’d do a white picket fence though. I’ve always found cedar trees make a better fence.”

Something stirs inside of you, and you want to take a hold of him, and to never let go. “Yeah?”

He sits back in the chair, looks up to the ceiling as he blinks away the silver in his own gaze. You wonder if he’s crying because he saw you cry, as the sympathetic crier that he is, or because he shares the emotions in your heart.

“Where would you want to get married?” he asks then.

You push the velvet box towards him. “This is for you.”

He doesn’t acknowledge this, instead repeating the question.

“Somewhere in the countryside,” you answer. “Maybe the cottage where it all started.” You think about Julys of a world ago. “Under the night sky.”

“People don’t usually get married when it’s already dark.”

“Right,” you let out. “Then we’d have a ceremony for just us two when it’s dark outside.”

At that he grabs the box, opening it. You reckon he must have known what the content was, because he doesn’t say anything as he takes it out. As he tries to put it on his finger, though it doesn’t fit. It’s too tight, and it makes him chuckle, a sad sound that almost kills you on the spot.

“Do you think we’d dance under the stars?” he asks as he turns the gold band in his fingers, and light glimmers on it.

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head. “We always would.”

“So you came all the way here to tell me this?”

He meets your gaze again, for the first time in a while. He looks struck with emotion, much like you feel – the depths of his eyes are swirling with love and ache and yearning. You fall forward, fall in his eyes, trying to find home again.

“I came here to ask you to marry me,” you finally say, as it dawns upon you that, yes, your steps were leading you to this all along. “Jungkook, will you marry me?”

He smiles, a world of sadness etched in the sweet curve of his lips. “Can it be this easy?”

You shut your eyes. “It can. Please. Let’s not lose what we have again.”

“When would you like to get married?” he asks.

“Are you saying yes?”

He plays with his piercing, takes a deep breath as he chases tears away from his gaze but to no avail. You watch the two drops as they slowly roll down his face. “When would you like to get married?”

“In July,” you answer easily.

“Next year?”

You nod.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds more, then looks at the gold band again. His fist closes around it, slowly, as if he’ll be able to crush it in his hold. For what you don’t know. All that you know is that his features grow tortured, pained. It doesn’t last long – another deep breath later the expression is gone.

“I need to tell you something,” he says then, his voice so small you can barely hear it.

You prepare yourself. As well as you can, expecting the blow before it comes. You sense it – in the eternity it takes for him to speak again, you see every moment of you and him before this day, your life flashing before your eyes as if you’re about to die.

And then he says it a first time. At first you don’t even understand the words, as if he’s speaking a foreign language. So you let out, “What?”, hoping that it will change the cruelty that this world holds.

But nothing can, after the end has come. Nothing, especially not as he repeats the words, softly, their meaning tainting the dream you’ve just painted with him, until all that’s left of it is a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

“I’m permanently moving to South Korea.”

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I'm sorry for the angst, for the cliffhanger, for them to be so stubborn and for how life is working against them now. I hope you don't hate me too much after this :') let me know what you think of this chapter!

Taglist: (add yourself to the taglist here) (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you):

571 notes · View notes

mynameismckenziemae · 10 months ago

Text

Take it right there

Jake ‘Hangman ‘ Seresin x You

This was written for #leahsgalentinesdayspecial (put on by @ohtobeleah thank you!)

Song: Like a Wrecking Ball by Eric Church

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Smut, unprotected p in v, talks of spanking, masturbation, teasing…I think that’s it, let me know if missed anything!

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

They say the first year of marriage is the hardest. This is true for you and Jake, but not for the reasons one may think.

Living together wasn’t the problem; you’d shared an apartment for 18 months before he proposed. It wasn’t combining and sharing finances either; you each contribute fairly and spend wisely.

The hardest part is that Jake has been deployed for 3 and a half months out of your 4-month marriage.

The wedding had been perfect; it was everything you dreamed of. The honeymoon was even better. Just thinking about what the two of you got up to in your room, the private pool, the cabana at the beach, the cramped bathroom of the glass bottom boat…sends a shiver down your spine and an echoing heat between your thighs.

But just a short week after you got back, Jake was called out with no ETA given. You had just gotten the keys to the fixer-upper you bought and weren’t even all the way moved in when Jake got the call that Sunday morning.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Sweetheart?”

“Please don’t tell me that was Simpson and you’re getting called out. Please?” You whine, dropping the paintbrush you’re holding back in the tray.

“How’d you know?” He asks, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

“I could hear it wasn’t good by your voice,” you murmur, leaning into him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to go either. I’ve got some good news though. We don’t leave until Tuesday morning and Simpson gave me and the rest of the squad off until then. They’re already on their way over to help us get the rest of the house cleaned up and painted so we can get everything else moved in and set up before I’m gone,” he murmurs against your neck before trailing up to your ear.

“No, they don’t have to do that, I’m sure they’ve got other things to-oh,” you sigh as he nips your earlobe and presses his hard-on into your short-clad bottom.

“I didn’t even have to ask, sweetheart. Roo was texting the group chat before I even got off the phone,” he assures you.

“But-“ you protest but he interrupts.

“No ‘buts’ about it, Mrs. Seresin. They’re already on their way. Now shush or I’ll spank yours before they get here,” he jokingly threatens, patting your butt and stepping away.

“Mhmm, sure,” you tease, calling his bluff.

You smile at his sharp inhale.

“You think I’m kidding?”

You gasp when he grabs your ponytail and pulls you back against him.

“Bend over that step ladder and I’ll show you how serious I am,” he says lowly, sucking a bruise behind your ear before he pushes you toward it.

But you’re saved by the bell; the doorbell that is.

“Oh no, that’s too bad. They’re here,” you smile at him smugly as you turn to answer the front door, but he grabs your wrist with a dark chuckle as you walk past.

“You’re not off the hook that easy, sweetheart. You know what I do to naughty girls. After tonight, you’re gonna think of me every time you sit down for the first few days that I’m gone.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

He wasn’t kidding. But you love pushing his buttons until he does something about it

You cried when he left that Tuesday morning, like every other deployment but this one just hurt more; popping the bubble of your newly wedded bliss.

In the time he was gone, there were a handful of rushed calls, texts here and there, and two video chats; one that was private and so hot, the other in his shared bunk so you keep it appropriate, kind of.

“Hey, sweetheart. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Jake says, eyes widening when he sees you. You’ve got your phone propped up while you’re sitting on the bathroom vanity in just a bathrobe, hair wet around your shoulders. “Just a heads up, Bradshaw’s in here. Whatcha doing up there?”

“Hey baby, just painting my nails. Does that mean I have to behave?” You lift your head to look at him with a smirk.

Jake nods as Bradley shouts, “No! Tease him, honey, make him pay for leaving you!”

You laugh. “Miss you, Roo.”

“Miss you too!”

You tell Jake about your day and then about the work you’ve done around the house, shaking your head when he asks to see it. “I want it to be a surprise.”

“Alright, can’t wait to see it. And you,” Jake sighs.

“I can’t either,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you slide your robe off your shoulders, baring your naked chest. “Any word on how much longer?”

He doesn’t answer, too distracted by you as you spread your legs and dip your fingers between.

“Jake?” You ask again.

He snaps out of it when your fingers stop. “What? No, sorry. Haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Damn. Hopefully not too much longer,” your eyes fall close as you push two fingers in, rubbing your clit with the heel of your palm.

His face flushes red as he watches you quietly bring yourself to orgasm; talking about the new restaurant you want to try, without bringing any attention to what you’re doing.

His expression turns pained when you lick your fingers clean in between telling him about what kitchen cabinets you want.

“5 minute warning guys,” Rooster’s voice filters through the phone.

The warning is nice but the moment is gone.

“Love you, sweetheart, hopefully be home soon.”

“I hope so. Love you too.”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

That was 2 weeks ago and you are sick of waiting. Fed up. Finished. Done.

Sighing, you look at your ugly kitchen cabinets and get the perfect idea for your frustration.

You smile as you bring the heavy sledgehammer in from the garage, but just as you’re about to bring it above your head, you hear Jake’s voice.

“Sweetheart?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

You drop the sledgehammer to the floor before you run into his open arms.

His back hits the wall when he stumbles back a few steps from the momentum.

“Sorry,” he murmurs against your lips as a picture frame shatters, knocked off the wall by his shoulder.

“You can buy me a new one tomorrow, I just need you to fuck me,” you pull back from his lips to latch onto his neck.

His head hits the wall as you mark up his neck. “Let’s…bedroom?” He pants.

You nod your head and hum in agreement but make no move to climb off him.

He drops you on the bed when he finally reaches the bedroom, unbuttoning his pants as you slip your leggings off and you’re pulling him on top of you before he can kick his off his ankles.

“Wait, I wanna taste you, get you ready,” he protests as you rub the head of his cock through your arousal.

“I’m ready. I’ve been ready for the past 105 days,” you whine, hands each gripping a handful of his ass and pulling him into you.

“Fuckkkkkk,” he groans as he breaches you, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“So big,” you whimper when he’s finally all the way in.

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” he pants against your neck, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling out just to push back in, again and again with deep, steady thrusts.

The bed begins to creak as he fucks you at a punishing pace, mingling with the sounds of your shared pleasure.

“More, Jake! Please, I’m so close,” you plead, fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back.

His hips stutter at the bite of pain but he recovers, tilting his hips so that his pubic bone brushes your clit with each stroke.

“C’mon, be my good girl, get there for me,” he begs.

A broken cry rips from your throat as your orgasm crashes into you, triggering Jake’s release. He cums with a low groan, painting your insides white.

A few minutes go by before he lifts his head to press a kiss to your lips. “I love y-oh shit!”

There’s a loud crack and all of a sudden the mattress is on the floor.

Jakes's wide eyes meet yours before you both burst into laughter.

The bedframe broke.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Jake helps you get cleaned up before helping you to your feet.

“So, what were you planning on doing with that sledgehammer?”

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A/N: I hope y’all like it ☺️🥴

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging those who may be interested:

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

#leahs galentines day special #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw

247 notes · View notes

yaut-jaknowit · 11 months ago

Text

An Accident

Pairings: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count:

Summary: What you believed was enough time to recooparate after the incident, you go back to planning. You follow your way through the halls, learning patterns and what was ways were the quickest with less foot traffic. It's easy... until the lights go out. And you terrified, trembling in the darkness without We'ar-ow near you.

Author Note: Heyyyy, I know it's been over a month since the last post of this series. Please don't be mad. I'm slowly chipping away at the others but I was rushing to finish all the requests I had as well.

P.s. I will be reopening requests shortly!

Masterlist

Ao3

Though half the size of We’ar-ow’s bathroom, this room offered plenty. The tile comfortably warm in the morning of the ship’s day cycle. A mirror hung above the sink a few inches taller than average.

With your back turned to it, your fingers softly grazed over the healed mark carved into the back of your neck. It wasn’t horrible. You shivered at the memory painted inside of your head. It played over and over. You scoffed, shoulders sagging. She had pinned you down in front of her tribe and marked you as hers… after defeating your ex-mate.

Thinking about it now, it didn’t bother you as much.

Constantly, We’ar-ow has shown you nothing but compassion. May it be a little on the rough side. Say, dragging you out of bed to either shower or feed you; forcing you to straddle her lap as she renewed her scent on you; taking you out to her throne room. It wasn’t anything near a royal treatment, but it was a content life.

Three meals a day; a semi social life; clothes on your back. You took a deep breath in to fill you lungs before fully turning around to face yourself in the mirror.

Nothing much has changed about your appearance. The bags under your eyes have disappeared after two week since the incident. We’ar-ow had allowed you to sleep in her bed for the first week.

Then came… the thoughts. You returned back to your given room all on your own. We’ar-ow said nothing about it. Nothing changed. Things went back to the new normal of your life. That was that.

A shirt was tugged over your head and hung off of your shoulders. You still looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to find something amiss. When you came up empty handed, you shrugged and exited the bathroom. The sight of your strange bedroom didn’t bring you much relief. You couldn’t help the scowl that morphed your features at the dog-like bed in the corner.

Out of all the things that have changed since you’ve been with We’ar-ow, that was the one thing you hadn’t grown accustom to. A pet. A real pet.

Dwainet may have claimed you as a pet for your safety… but he never treated you as such. We’ar-ow constantly reminded you of your ownership. She owned you. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. But… her treatment was different than what you would’ve expected as her pet.

Something delicious wafted into the air. You breathed in a lung full, mouth beginning to water. Your stomach growled, longing for food. We’ar-ow had been gone in the afternoon yesterday, leaving you to fend for yourself. Since you’ve never cooked for yourself while being on the ship, you just went hungry. Plus, you were too timid to grab any fruits to hold you over until morning.

The door slid open at your presence. You peered out and found the lumbering giant in the minute kitchen, working on breakfast. A smile broke cross your face before you shook your head and strolled out.

Bare-footed, your feet made little pitter-patter noises on the metal floors. The metal was mildly warm to the touch. Quietly, you reached the counter and sat down on the stools meant for a creature at least a foot taller than you.

Right on time. We’ar-ow scooped whatever was on the pan and placed the plated food in front of you. A smile of thanks was thrown up at her. You gratefully dug into the food, starving. Actions like these made the title ‘pet’ not feel as bad. Your morals and emotions war with each on that front though. Unable to come to a conclusion that a life like this was fine. We’ar-ow wasn’t going to win you over that easily.

Mid-bite, a knock on the entrance door had you tensing up. Immediately, your heart begins to thunder in its bony cage. Your head whips around to stare at the dark metallic grey slab.

Ever since the scare on your first exploration… you were on edge. Someone had been stalking you, hunting you down that day. The mediocre knife that had been gifted to you would’ve done nothing to protect you from whoever that was. Said knife sat tied in its sheath to your waist band.

A warm hand jolted your muscles, gaze snapping to the person who laid their hand on you. We’ar-ow petted the top of you head in a soothing motion. “Do not fret, my pet. It is just Xilomere,” she explained, letting the limb slip off as she strolled over to the door.

Shakily, you reached down and rested a hand on top of your knife. Your eyes pinned on the door.

It registered in your mind what she had said only a few moments earlier. Your eyes narrowed. Xilomere? Who’s that?

The front door slide open and revealed a dark, moss green Yautja. Male by the size of him. Instantly, he bowed his head to We’ar-ow in front of him before lifting his upper mandibles. A smile. His posture lax, might you even say friendly.

His greying tresses were a sign of his older age, older than We’ar-ow. The extra wrinkles on his face aided that thought process. As you scanned his body, looking for anything that could be considered a threat, you noticed the lower portion of his right arm was gone. From the elbow down was missing. On his other arm, his pinky and the tip of his ring finger were missing as well. This Yautja had seen the hardships of this life to the full extent. Well, besides death, of course. You couldn’t help your hand tightening around the handle of your knife.

When his eyes moved past the face of We’ar-ow, they landed on you. Your whole body locked up, chest rapidly moving with short, quick breaths. The two of you staring each other down.

The moss green Yautja snorted with a chuckle. His arms lifted out at his sides at half-mast. “Ah, there is the ooman I’ve heard so much about!” His voice was on the higher pitched level when he spoke in Yautja. But the translator droned on about what he had said.

He slinked around the towering female and made his way to you. The whites of your eyes were easily seen. You froze in your spot, heart thundering loud in your ears as he stopped before you. “Such a small, little thing you are,” he jestered and reached out, hand heading for your chin.

“Mere,” We’ar-ow scolded, voice firm. The for-called Yautja grunted, gave you look as if you would know what it meant and spun around. His arm was raised in mock surrender.

“What? I’m checking out your new pet. I haven’t gotten to see them since they first arrived here,” Xilomere defused the situation. His hand dropped back to his side. “It’s not like everyday that you let a ooman on the ship, let alone have one as your pet.”

All she had to do was give a look before his shoulders were dragged down. “Ugh, you’re no fun.” In the midst of all of this, the most you could do was just stare speechless at this Yautja. Everyone in the ship worships the ground We’ar-ow walked on…

Xilomere… didn’t. He was friendly, playful even with her. We’ar-ow allowed for it to happen, letting him into her shared quarters with you.

Something burned in the back of your throat. The grip on the knife tightened before bite at the inside of your cheek and let go. This was a Yautja. A clearly well decorated one. He’d have you in five different pieces before you could even get within ten feet of him.

You swiveled in your chair and timidly finished up your breakfast. Xilomere left you alone after We’ar-ow gave him a warning. An action you were thankful for.

Once your plate had been cleaned and placed off to the side to dry, you peered around the corner of the kitchen and into the living space. On the couches, both Yautjas sat. Each on their respectful couch.

The translator embedded into the skin behind your ear picked up on their conversation. We’ar-ow and Xilomere were discussing things about the clan and mothership. Plans for maintenance on the engines and other projects along the same line. The lingering burn started to dwindle at their respectful conversation.

For a moment, you padded across the space and scuttled into your room. The device you were looking for was snatched off of the dresser close to the door. Then, you were back out, going over to the We’ar-ow. You stood five feet from her and clutched the tablet to your chest, waiting for her acknowledgement.

When she got to a good stopping point, We’ar-ow paused her conversation to look at you. “Yes?” Her usual softer voice was replaced with the voice of a leader.

Your shoulders scrunched up. “Is it okay if I go out?” The question hung heavy in the air. This was a perfect chance to keep… planning. With We’ar-ow distracted with this Xilomere character, I could go out without the constant worry of her watching me. It had also been a month since the incident. Whoever was out there… they must have lost their interest, right?

We’ar-ow’s darted over to Xilomere without turning her eyes then landed back on you. She dipped her head, tresses slightly swinging with the motion. “You may.”

With that settled, she returned to the conversation with Xilomere, not missing a beat. You took your leave through the front door and down the short hallway to reach the elevator.

Hesitation drew you to a stop short of pressing the button to open the door. Swallowing down the lump growing in your throat, you closed the distance and entered the elevator.

The trip down was short but not sweet. You clutched the tablet tight to your chest and squeezed it harder as the doors opened. They revealed an desolate hallway. The sight didn’t relieve you of any tension. You pressed on and stepped out into the new space.

Much to your relief, nothing jumped out and attempted to drag you into the dark corners of the ship. You took a deep breath before taking the first step down a hallway you knew would be part of your escape plan. From this one, you would need to take the third left before taking another elevator further down into the belly of this mothership.

To refresh your mind, you ran the entire course, measuring the time it would take to walk to the cargo hold. Far longer than you would like. The longer it took to reach the cargo hold, the more time it gave to We’ar-ow to hunt you down or even lock the ship down.

Escape and survive. Those were your two main options. Nothing else mattered. Get off of this damn ship.

There were passer-byers who glanced at you, some uncaring that you exist. Others either sneered or scowled in your direction.

We’ar-ow’s mark was your shield against any of them. If they dared to hurt you in any way, it would bring along the wrath of her. Rage none of them wanted to experience or endure.

After reaching the cargo hold, you turned back around and found an empty hallway to slither into. You sat down and began to type up all of your findings, mostly just about the time. On that same note of escape, next you need to learn about the schedule of the ships. Which ship to stowaway on as well. Something you could possibly steal… if you learned how to fly one. That was the last option because that would take extra weeks, maybe even raking in months of learning. Time you didn’t know if you had.

Your head hit the wall behind you with a groan. This was becoming longer than you expected. All you wanted was to go home. Was that so bad? To get away from all of this… craziness. These people, this species. It wasn’t something you wanted to be mixed with.

Darkness engulfed your form. The tablet’s screen is your only source of light in the pitch blackness of the hallway. You couldn’t help the yelp that surpassed your lips, eyes darting around but found nothing. What happened?

Timidly, your feet found their way under your form. No one was around the last you knew of. Despite knowing none of the Yautjas would step in to help you incase someone attacked you, you believed if there was another Yautja around… no one would try to harm you. Foolish to think that as your safety but it was all you had.

The tablet lit up your path as you retraced the needed steps to make it to a more populated area. Your chest slightly heaving with deep breaths to keep yourself level headed.

Everything went dark. The device in your hand had been ripped out of your hand and smashed into the ground, blocking out your only source of light. You screamed and froze, eyes not yet adjusted to any sort of darkness.

Behind you, you sensed eyes, burning holes in your back. You whipped around and staggered, almost losing your balance in the process. Only blackness greeted your sight.

Terror gripped your heart. You stumbled backwards, heel knocking into the discarded tablet. It slide across the metal flooring for a few seconds then came to a stop. You internally cursed, hoping you could somehow find it once more and use it for a light source again.

Tapping sounded behind you again. Once more, you spun around to face whatever was here with you. Your entire body shook, hands trembling at your sides. With no lights, not even emergency lights, your eyes couldn’t adjust. Nothing for the retina to send a signal up to your brain.

It clicked in your brain, far later than you would like to admit. The knife. Your hands whipped to where it was sheathed and wielded it in front of you. Disappointingly enough, you knew the quakes raking your body weren’t a sight to be terrified of.

Chittering laughter echoed in the hall, bouncing off of the walls. It felt like mockery. You whimpered, pupils blown wide and darting around the area before you.

Claws raked along your back. From the small of your back to the bottom of your shoulder blades, pain exploded like a bomb. Fire raced up with the marks, burning from the inside out. You cried out, knife dropping from your hands. You stumbled forward and blindly kicked the weapon away from you. It too was lost to the darkness.

Weaponless and injured, all you could was shake like a leaf and stand blindly. Tears desperately fought to roll down like raging rivers down your face. You briefly held it in.

All the ways you could die flashed in your eyes with the help of the blackness. Just your body, a bloody heap of flesh and bones, lying dead without the protection of We’ar-ow.

Fuck. We’ar-ow…. How would she feel after learning of your demise? Relief she doesn’t have to care for you? Sorrow possibly? You scoffed internally at the thought. These Yautjas don’t feel sadness. Just rage and lust. Nothing more than mindless beasts.

Something scaly and firm engulfed your throat, simply lifted you up, and slammed you down on the ground. You surely thought your skull fractured from the harsh cracked that rang out. Your ears began to ring.

The burn for air caused panic to surge through your haze. Your legs kicked out and struck a hard body. Yet, whatever held you, stayed. Unfazed from the strike and kept its mighty grip tightly around your feeble neck. Your hands clawed in desperation at the arm pinning you to the metal floor. But the scales were far too thick for your own dull nails to even scratch through the first layer of skin.

Tears poured freely out of the corner of your eyes, running over your temples and leaving droplets on the ground. You tried to scream, to cry, to alert someone of what was happening to you. As the prey animal you are, you wanted help, someone to save before this thing killed you!

All you could produce were gurgles and croaks. No one would come to your air. No one could hear your last noises. This was to be your grave.

The fight began to leave you. The lack of oxygen reaching your brain dwindled with each pump of your heart. Your hands fell away and thumped at your sides.

Air rushed into your lungs. You gasped so hard it scratched at your throat, forcing you to roll over and cough harshly, possibly bringing up blood. You blinked through the tears and squinted your eyes, blinded by the overhead lights. But there was light.

Through the haze of salty tears, you saw a blurred figure sprinting down the hallway and darted around a corner. Gone from sight. You flinched and swallowed painfully. Your throat hurt, feeling the aftermath of it nearly being crushed.

Despite knowing whoever just attempted to murder you could turn themselves around and finish the kill, you could only sit there. The threat of death still hung heavy like a rain cloud over your head. But, you just stayed on the ground, heaving for air. Death was almost a friend for a second. You should’ve never came here. It’s been one bad thing after another.

An unknown amount of time passed before you stumbled to your feet and used a wall for support. Nausea roared it ugly head at the new motion. On the ground, a few yards from you sat both the knife and now destroyed tablet. It had been stepped on clearly and couldn’t handle the weight. A croaked meant as a curse fell from your dry lips. You stepped over to the two items, sheathing the knife and scooping up the pieces of the tablet.

The screen completely shattered, some pieces were gone. With a pained groan, you turned around and started to trek back to more populated areas. Now though, your head was on a swivel, constantly whipping behind encase they dared to come back. The knife was back in your hand, white-knuckling the handle.

Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the first Yautja walking in the larger hallway. This path was part of the main route used by most of the clan. But this alien was walking in the direction as you. They didn’t even react to the tiny gasp that escaped your lips.

You started down the new hall, following the Yautja at least fifty feet behind him. He didn’t make an acknowledgement of your presence.

When another turned to use the walkway, you tensed up and stopped mid step. But she didn’t even look at you or your dishevel appearance. You scuttled along, going further into the main area of the ship.

More and more Yautjas moved around you. None of them acting differently besides a few giving you a double look. You had to bet bruises were making their mark around your throat. Plus, the back of your shirt had been shredded, dried blood sticking your skin. It flaked at each step and left behind a horrible, itchy feeling. You kept on marching on until you reached the first elevator.

A single Yautja waited for you enter before pushing a button. Timidly, you reached over and selected your own needed level. The alien made no noise of complaint or despise. Indifferent. An aspect you were thankful, even after they left and the doors closed again.

The machine came to a halt. You yelped; palms pressed to the metal wall behind you to keep you from keeling over. Bronze metal doors slide open to reveal the desired floor. You stepped out and into the new danger. The only thing that kept you from curling into a ball there was the fact you were closer to We’ar-ow. Or, at least, the safety of her room. No one would be stupid enough to break in and harm you. If they could even break through in the first place. And if she was there… she wouldn’t take kind of an intruder. Yautjas are very territorial and possessive.

As you took another step in the right direction, your vision teetered. It took a late moment for your brain to catch up. You put your hands out and caught yourself on the other side of the hallway, against a wall. You groaned, nearly dropping both the knife and demolished tablet. Again.

This same scenario happened twice more before you thought it best to use the wall as a clutch. Your hand glide acrossed the warm metal walls with each step. It not only held you up but helped you keep better balance of staying upright.

The sight of the last elevator door was like seeing heavens gate. You pushed off of the wall wobbled over to the door. The knife was sheathed into its pocket tied to your side. With the newly emptied hand, you leaned against the wall and stared at the digital keypad. A code. The code. What code? Code. You needed a code. What was the code?

For what had to be minutes, you gazed blankly at the keypad. Nothing came to mind. Not a thought of reasoning. Until a moment of clarity struck with enough time to remember. You imputed the code.

A set of doors slid open to reveal the personal elevator. You stumbled in while continuously using the walls for support. With your back to the wall furthest from the doors, you watched with bated breath until you were sealed in. Nothing came for you. Now, you were safe.

Your head pounded with each thump of your poor heart, creating its own beat of drums. This caused you to squint your eyes through the pain.

The realization finally dawned on you at the sight of We’ar-ow’s abode. Safety. A broken sobbed left your dry lips. You hurriedly stumbled through the short hallway and slammed against the shut entryway with a cry. Your hands clawed at the metal, desperate to get in. The thundering in your head only getting strong with each second.

The support was ripped away. You fell forward only to get caught in two strong arms cradling you into a warm chest. Instantly, you wrapped your arms around a neck and held on for dear life. It might have been for you. The tablet falling to the ground in a forgotten heap of electronics.

Air touched the bottom of your bare feet. You were lifted up into the air and brief carried before being settled into warmth and safety.

Tears stained your blazing cheeks. Broken, cracking sobs fell from your dropped jaw with each heave of air you could gasp in.

Hands gripped at your scrunched shoulders and gave a light shake. Through the cotton filling your ears, a voice tried to pierce through. Fingers pinched at your chin and lift it up. You gazed in your hazed sight at the large pink Yautja holding you in her lap. The translator sounding off in your ear, translating every word she spoke in her alien race.

We’ar-ow called your name in haste, demanding you to tell her what had happened. Fear continuously pumped through your veins, causing you to tremble worse than being stuck in the cold. She huffed that ended in growl and cupped both of your cheeks in her massive palms. “What happened, little ooman? Who attacked you?!”

It was an easy sight to tell you’ve been attacked rather this being all on you.

You whimper, hands gripping so tightly on her shoulders, crescent divots had to be left behind. With all of your strength that could be offered, you attempted to bow your head to hide away from her piercing gaze. The heat of burned into your very soul. Her palms kept you up right in her line of sight. “Tell me. They will pay,” she snarled, hands tightening just a fraction before loosening.

For a fleeting moment, you met her bright eyes before letting your gaze dart away. “I-I don’t… know,” you croaked out and fought against the pain surrounding your neck. “The lights. They went off. Something attacked me. I couldn’t see.” You were hopeful she could understand through the grumble of your throat.

The Yautja snarled a deadly note before standing up again. “Mere, call a meeting. I want every council member in there.” You tensed at the new knowledge of another being in here with us. We’ar-ow cradled you close to the protectiveness of her body and carried you over to her bedroom door. “An attack on my pet is an attack on me.”

“Yes, Monarch,” Xilomere responded, voice firm. The green Yautja pivoted on his heel and head straight for the exit. His arm lifted as he began to speak into his gauntlet.

She kept her pathing for her bedroom and entered said place. Despite weighing nearly four times your weight alone, her feet didn’t make a single noise as she set foot into the connected bathroom. You were set on the counter next to the sink. We’ar-ow had to practically yank off your arms and grabbed a bag from behind the mirror in front of the sink.

Said bag was set next to you. We’ar-ow moved her way between your legs. A clawed finger was placed under your chin and forced it up. You whined when this pulled at the bruising forming a dark path around your throat. Her body tensed before the muscles relaxed all on their own. You felt it more than saw it since your new sight was the bland ceiling of her bathroom.

Coarse finger pads danced along the column of your throat. You swallowed despite the pain. The touch was soft, not something you had grown accustomed to on this damned ship. Then, it was gone, replaced with a gel covering the new wound.

We’ar-ow preformed as a medic till every injured had been cared for. Afterwards, she scooped you up and carried you over to her bed you had once found sanctuary in before.

Deja Vu hit you as the pelt blankets were used to cover the majority of nearly naked frame. The shirt that once hung off your shoulders had been removed. She knelt down at the side of the bed and ran a hand over your hair. “I’ll be back. Stay here, ooman,” she ordered then stood up.

Her steps carried her over to the bedroom door where she stopped and glanced back for a short second. Then, the door closed, a lock clicking in place. Three doors from you to the main hallway. Three doors protecting you from harm.

Low lights kept the room illuminated and fought off any shadows your attacker could hide in. You nuzzled into the comfortable blankets, arms latching onto one of them. But sleep won’t come easy to you. A headache persisted worse than anything you’ve felt before.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow

195 notes · View notes

msmk11 · 4 months ago

Text

mk’s mad dash

All of August, one x reader fic a day.

A/n: School is coming up faster than I'd like, so I want to do a little mini end of summer writing extravaganza before September hits. I'll be posting one short fic a day, and by the end of the month I will have at least one fic written for EVERY character I write for! Happy reading!

8/1 - Johanna Mason- ‘A Moment For Yourself’

You show Johanna a kindness she hasn’t felt in

weeks.

8/2- Tangerine- ‘Not a Lady’

Tangerine meets his match in cursing.

8/3- Natasha Romanoff- ‘A Way to Relax’

Natasha’s been stressed lately, so you come up

with a way to help her relax.

8/4- Remus Lupin- ‘Aftercare’

Aftercare with Remus.

8/5- Lucy Gray Baird- ‘Wrapped Up In a Bow’

You buy Lucy Gray a present.

8/6- Mary MacDonald- ‘Distraction’

You don’t want to watch a movie with Mary.

8/7- Fred Weasley- ‘Sixth Love Language’

You prank Fred for the first time.

8/8- Coriolanus Snow- ‘Maybe’

The death and birth of hope.

8/9- Peeta Mellark- ‘I Made You A Pie’

You and Peeta get into your first fight.

8/10- Hermione Granger- ‘Whatever You Say, Dear’

You hate airports. Thank God for your girlfriend.

8/11- George Weasley- ‘Serenity’

A peaceful summer afternoon at the Burrow.

8/12- Regulus Black- ‘Trou Noir’

Mourning your husband, Regulus Black.

8/13- Katniss Everdeen- ‘A Tiny Favor’

You ask Katniss to braid your hair.

8/14- Dorcas Meadowes- ‘The Barista’

The most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen is a

barista at your local coffee shop.

8/15- Haymitch Abernathy- ‘Wish You Were Sober’

We don’t always get what we want.

8/16- Finnick Odair- ‘Five More Minutes’

“Five more minutes.” A phrase you’ve said many

times but only now really mean.

8/17- Ron Weasley- ‘I Love You First’

Ron’s used to being second.

8/18- Sirius Black- ‘The Infamous Wings’

You catch Sirius trying on your eyeliner.

8/19- Ginny Weasley- ‘What The Flying Fuck’

Your girlfriend tries to teach you how to fly.

8/20- Tigris Snow- ‘Don’t Call Me Baby’

Tigris has been taught to assume the worst.

8/21- Harry Potter- ‘Pretty Boy’

You love to make your boyfriend blush.

8/22- Marlene McKinnon- ‘Oblivious’

You never notice when boys flirt with you.

8/23- Poly!Marauders- ‘This Is Fucking Stupid’

In which you all try and share a bed for the first

time.

8/24- James Potter- ‘Rumor Has It’

There’s a rumor going around that you and

costar!James are dating.

8/25- Lily Evans- ‘Rounds’

You are assigned Prefect rounds with your rival.

8/26- Peter Parker- ‘Its Not A Costume’

You mess around in Peter’s suit.

8/27- Wanda Maximoff- ‘Are They Gone?’

You and Wanda on a mission together.

8/28- Tony Stark- ‘Never Ever’

CEO!Tony Stark doesn’t take people out to lunch.

8/29- Sejanus Plinth- ‘I Know’

Your boyfriend is a walking, bleeding heart.

8/30- Peter Pettigrew- ‘Say It’

Peter is nervous to ask you out.

8/31- Yelena Belova- ‘This Thing Called A Date’

You take Yelena on her first ever date.

79 notes · View notes

nathanbatemanfucker · 10 months ago

Text

In Plain Sight: Tiana

summary: nathan does his best to support you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader, f!reader’s mother (Tiana)

contents: this entire series is 18+, sick parent, parent death, grief, panic attacks, existential crisis, support!nathan

wc: 1,360

an: this one is a bit heavy so do heed the warnings. we also jump around in the timeline so it is important to have read previous parts or it won’t make much sense. be gentle with yourselves on this one

in plain sight masterlist | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

3 Weeks before To Atomize*

The day you told your mother about Nathan was one of her last good days. Many, many bad days came after. Celia— her nurse— sent you the usual report before you left to go home. It said that your mother had slept most of the day and gotten a burst of energy.

When you got home that day, she was propped up, watching some soap opera with mild interest. Seeing her genuine smile when you walked through the door had made your heart flutter.

You made her favorite tea, and brought a book to read though you really had wanted to talk to her, not at her. With working, taking care of your sisters, and her health you found that you didn’t get to do that much anymore. Talk with your mother, hearing her thoughts and opinions, her praises and suggestions. Feeling her intentional love. You crave it.

“Have you told your sisters?”

“No— I will. I wanted to tell you first.”

Her brows raise and teasingly she murmurs, “You’re serious about him.”

“I am,” You say through a laugh.

Her smile is so warm, like the sun, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You love him.”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“But you could?”

“I could.”

“Don’t be afraid to.”

“That’s easier said than done, mama.”

She sighs patiently, shifting more on her side so that she can look directly at you, “Does he love you?”

You grow warm under her serious gaze. You don’t particularly like thinking about Nathan feeling more deeply for you. He’s assured you that he’s in this for the long haul— that he’s ‘spoken for’ but words and actions are very different things. He hasn’t done anything to show he words aren’t true…yet. “I think so. He acts like it.”

“Then let him.”

“Mama—“

“When you find a man that treats you the way you’re meant to be treated, you can’t be scared, darling.”

“But it’s scary.”

“You’ve done so many scary things in your life. You’ve watched my health fluctuate with a brave face. You’ve raised those girls out there. And now you’re on the cusp of falling in love. A beautiful girl with a beautiful heart. Everything will work out how it’s meant to.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not. Isn’t that more reason to grasp it while you can?”

“I don’t know mama, this is all so existential.”

“Promise me something.”

“Anything, mama.”

“Promise me you won’t waste the time. If you want him, if you love him, then don’t waste any time. When the time comes, let yourself as openly and honestly as you possible can. Promise me?”

“I promise.”

—

Present Day (5 months after Family Dinner)

“Honey?”

Nathan’s voice pulls you out of the haze that you seem to always be slipping into now that your mother is gone. It’s hard, not wanting to escape into memories so that it feels like she’s here.

You give him a wane smile, “Hey.”

“I’ve been calling you,” He says softly, sliding onto the couch beside you.

You sigh, shaking your head a little as if that’ll clear the fog, a task that you imagine will take years. “Sorry, I’m just…”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s alright,” He assures you, draping an arm behind you on the couch. His brows are pinched with worry— an emotion you’re still trying to get used to seeing on his face.

You sit up on the edge of the couch abruptly, looking around. Where’s your phone? Your laptop? “Wait, what time is it?”

“Almost 4.”

“I wasted my entire day here?”

“You didn’t waste it. You said you wanted some space, I gave it to you.”

“But this is the only day of the week that I stay this long anymore. You didn’t have to give me that much space.”

“There’s next week and the week after that…and the week after that. I could keep going but I hope you’re understanding our situation here,” He teases gently, running his hand over your back.

You lean out of his comforting touch, feeling guilty. “It’s not, I should be cherishing my time with you. Who knows when—“

He cuts you off immediately. He’s had this conversation with you multiple times since your mother’s passing. He doesn’t want you to focus on him— but on yourself and your sisters, on getting you all through this. “Hey, uh uh, don’t do that. Don’t go there.”

You’re already there. You’ve been there for weeks now. All you can think about is life slipping out of your grasp. Of not having the words or the feelings to make the time dwindling in front of you feel like it's enough. Your chest feels tight, and you scoot further away from him trying to keep yourself centered. Its futile attempt, everything’s all out of whack, you can’t find your balance, your emotions sway and crash around you unpredictably like the waves of a seastorm.

“But, it’s true. I could lose you today or tomorrow. I could lose you right now, you could have some fucked up brain vessel or something. You could choke o-or fall o-or– and Philippa, Emma–”

He cups your hands in his chest, brown eyes soft and desperate as he tries to calm you down. “Honey. I need you to take it down a notch and breathe, you’re gonna give yourself a panic attack.”

“I don’t— I can’t—“ You gulp frantically, feeling your breath grow shallow.

“She was sick,” He whispers, pulling you flush to his chest. “She was sick, sweetheart, there was nothing to be done. I’m healthy, I’m here— so are your sisters. We can get them check ups every month, get them checked out by oncologists as much as you want. Whatever you need to make you feel alright.”

“I feel like I’m going insane. How can having less to do and worry about make me insane?” You say through tears.

Nathan hates seeing you like this. He’s never hated anything more than seeing you in pain. He wishes he could take it away— he would do anything, pay any amount of money, invent any program if it meant that you could have some reprieve.

“Stop. You’re not insane, you’re grieving. Studies say there’s no right way— trust me I’ve looked high and fucking low for a methodology— but you’ve gotta take it as it comes, sweetheart. I’ll be here, right beside you the whole time.”

You’re quiet for a long time, letting Nathan hold you. He rocks you side to side, brushing soft, tickling kisses across your temple and forehead. You focus on the rise and fall of his chest, allowing your breathing to mimic his own. He’s warm and solid against you. He’s right here. Living and breathing and talking right beside you. He’s right here.

Finally you say, “I don’t want to take it as it comes. I want to feel okay again.”

“If I could make it so baby, I would,” He whispers, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I know. I’m sorry. Thank you Nathan.”

He cups your face, guiding your gaze to his own– its unyielding and firm. No nonsense. “You don’t apologize to me, alright? Ever.

He’s been more like that since your mom’s passing. More directive and firm, guiding and caring for you in ways that were necessary before. It’s exactly what you need right now. And sometimes, it has those butterflies settling in your stomach and heat simmering in your veins.

You refocus on him where your gaze had gone a little blurry. “Not even if I accidentally knee you in the nuts?”

Nathan pretends to consider your ridiculous question. “I shouldn’t have had my nuts where your knees are.”

“You may be the closest specimen to a perfect man.”

“I mean it honey, don’t apologize to me for this. I won’t accept it and I’ll yell you every single time.”

You raise a brow at him, ��Yell?”

“Yell.”

“You’ve never yelled at me, not even when you were just my boss.”

“Maybe I’m exaggerating,” He allows, grinning at you mischievously.

“You are.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Trying to keep me guessing?”

He presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, and then another and another, addicted. “Always, baby.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman fanfiction #nathan bateman #ex machina fanfiction #ex machina #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

100 notes · View notes

hollyhomburg · 1 year ago

Note

I noticed a while back you mentioned you’ve gone through weight loss and you talk about making sure you exercise regularly for your physical and mental health. What clothes size have you shifted from and what are you now? Have you found that the weight loss has positively affected your body image?

(Tw: weight talk) yes I did go through substantial weight loss! It started about 18 months ago now although I’ve been the same weight for the last year. I went from 185 to 145 now although my current weight fluctuates about 6 or 7lbs depending on the time of day and time of month.

For me this resulted in going from a pants size 12 to a size 6 (I can fit into a size 4 but it’s not comfy) from a large/xl to a small/medium. My bra size also went from a 34DD to a 30DDD but I don’t think it will ever get any smaller because my ribs are like right at the surface now. I also went from a 9.5-10 in shoes to an 8.5. A looooot changed for me. It’s important to note that I’ve also been gaining a lot of muscle over this time period so yeah! My weight isn’t the most representative of the actual changes to my body.

I think it mostly affects the way that I’m treated not necessarily my body image. Like of course I don’t think about my body as much because people don’t make it a facet of conversation. But the biggest thing is that Everyone is nicer to me, Litterally everyone, even my close family- people want to talk to me more, I get less dismissive comments, people listen to me more- that’s Definitly been the biggest mind fuck. If anything it’s just other women that treat me worse- you definitely figure out whose a girls girl when you go through substantial weight loss.

This was me during my heaviest and me the first day I ever fit into a size 4! For the record although I am holding a donut in the first picture I did climb the mountain behind me that day- we got all the way up to the tippy tippy top portion. I was still really capable and athletic at that weight. You can even see the difference in my hands in this photo 💀

Right now my workout consists mainly of walking- I walk 3 miles almost every day on a high incline treadmill. It sounds like a lot but honestly I just swipe on tictok (which I would be doing anyways) for an hour. I also do mat workouts which are a hybrid of Pilates and stuff about 3-4 times a week. I can go more in depth if you like. Walking is Definitly one of the only things that keeps me sane these days.

I know this was probably more of a deep dive than you wanted but! Loosing weight is Literally the only thing that I’ve done in the last 2 years that I’m proud of besides BILY and I need a win.

30 notes · View notes

popcornforone · 11 months ago

Text

Cobwebs

A Frankie (Catfish) Morales Fan Fic

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, & all that shiz. This is it. This is my Christmas Fic for the year. & I decided come September it was gonna be Frankie. I’ve always kinda wanted to do part of this myself, which you’ll all work out (I mean you know some of it I’d love to but we all know we don’t live in that world) so I wanted to share something sexy & romantic at the same time. & I think Frankie always gives those tropes.

Synopsis:- Circumstances mean both you & Frankie are off the grid so it’s time for you to both celebrate a Christmas neither of you had really planned.

Word count: 4100

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! PIV sex, swearing, pleasure, oral, depression, mission gone wrong but no details, self doubt but not suicidal thoughts, wanting to belong, alcohol.talk about sobering up.

Thanks as always for the read peoples. All feedback is welcome. I hope you enjoy & I wish you all an amazing couple of days & all the best for 2024.

“Are you crying?” You turn to face your beautiful catfish as he cuddles you on the sofa. Christmas Eve night it’s tradition. It’s time to watch Love Actually. It’s as Andrew Lincoln starts doing his signs.

“No” he says. His shoulders shake slightly, his hat which covers his curls is pulled down his head a little. His breathing is sharp. Yea he’s getting emotional. Your hand goes into his hair removing his hat for a few seconds to ruffle it.

“To me you are perfect” you say to Frankie quoting the film, before your lips softly kiss his lips. They feel so soft & you hold his face as he kisses you back.

“Surely im meant to say that”says Frankie.

“But you don’t need to win me over” you smile & you pass him a tissue. “I just want you to hug me, the second the score kicks in for the airport scene” you sip in your hot chocolate & pull your blanket up over you again.”that’s when I blub, it’s pure love”

“As pure as ours?” He asks.

“You tell me baby? Would you run through an airport to declare your love for me?” Frankie pauses for about 3 seconds & then smirks.

“Wouldn’t need to baby,” he giggles” I have my license we don’t need an airport. We can escape when we want to” your thumb wipes his last tear away. He grabs your hand & softly kisses each knuckle.

“Such a romantic” your hand scratches his beard before you pull him in close for a tender kiss on the lips. Everything is right with the world each time you smooch.

The way frankie holds you as the score kicks in & you start blubbering at the airport scene, makes you feel like home. You wish you were at home, but due to Frankies last mission, hes had to all but disappear for 6 months, to make sure no one can track him down. He sent you the code word you’d agreed on if anything happened & you upped & left your entire life behind in 6hours. Frankie had always warned you this could one day be the case & that if the time came, it would prove if you were his or not, were you willing to change everything to be with him? His face 4 weeks ago, when he arrived at this little house you have next to the beach, & he saw you standing in the kitchen made him sob. The sex that night was phenomenal too, you lost your voice from moaning his name. You got married 5 days later. You’d proven you would give up everything for your man & he had been given the love & loyalty he had always craved for. You genuinely had just abandon everything & were happy to live off the grid until Frankie could return back home. He’s heard from Pope who thinks it should be the start of June by the time people stop looking for the people involved.

“You okay baby?” He strokes your shoulder as you just let your tears fall & land in his tshirt.

“Never better Frankie” you mumble. Your arms are wrapped around him & you hug him tightly. His tummy filled with the nice food you’ve eaten & is now full of the love you have for each other.

“My beautiful girl, you’re so beautiful when you cry, I mean not that I want to see you cry but I love that you are so comfortable being vulnerable with me.”

“Isn’t that what marriage is all about Frankie?” You ask “if you can’t accept me at my worse, you don’t deserve me at my best?”

“Maybe” he states & then softly chuckles “I thought marriage was about who does the washing up & having sex 3 times a week”

“We must be having another couples sex then” his comment made you smile, blush & feel aroused. The good thing about living off the grid & only having an emergency burner phone, is that there is no work & no distractions for either of you. Most newly engaged or married couples have a honeymoon period but Frankie has made love to you every morning & night since you both arrived. Afternoon sex after a beach swim or walk has also been a rather pleasurable experience. This little town just know you as the newbies & nothing else. You are his. He is yours.

As the credits start on the film, Frankie disguards his hat onto the coffee table & thrashes his head so his hair is free & messy just how you like it. You know what gonna happen. No words need to be said. Your lips find his, as you help each other undress on the sofa, hands tugging at clothes, exploring the familiar landscapes they have done for the last month. The way Frankie always gasps when you lick his nipples always arouses you. His hand slips inside your knickers to check. Those long fingers are sodden in seconds. The moan you make intoxicates him.

“That’s my girl” he says.

You watch in awe as he uses his teeth to remove your knickers. He uses them to wipe his already building sweat off his brow, it’s now sticky with something else. You slowly turn over & grip the end of the sofa nearest the small Christmas tree you have. Your bum presenting itself for your man. The way he teases you. So large & girthy his length. It collects all your slick. The way it brushes your enterance has you fluttering, ready to accept his pleasure.

“Frankkkkiiiiieeee” the e is drawn out, as he slowly pushes inside you. Your legs part a little more so you’re comfortable as he slow rocks into you.

“Oooh darling” his grip around your hips always starts gentle, but never ends that way. “Oooh so so good, so wet” you rock back into him as he slowly thrusts inside. His curls already sweaty. The look of desire spreading across his face. The noises you make get louder.

“Don’t stop frankie”

“I don’t plan to” the panting is starting, & a firm hand smack your tight arse cheek making you yelp & clamp around him. “Oooh don’t act so surprised girl” he smacks the left one “I know it gets you going” your hand start grabbing the arm of the sofa grips harder. Your other hand which is underneath you, it pleasuring your clit. Frankie usually would but when he’s taking you from behind, he likes to stroke your back. The goosebumps that form on your skin from him trailing down your spine always have you whimpering at the slow sensitive touch. He is right, you enjoy a good smack in the arse. He’s always been a bum guy more than tits. But you both know it’s the long tongue of your catfish that makes you crumble. His mustash always tickles but no man has ever made you squirt during oral before. Frankie makes it happen every time including the first time. You know on Christmas morning you will probably wake up to Frankie being inbetween your thighs lapping away. He enjoys it as much as you do. Says you are the best breakfast a man could ask for.

“Oooh fuck” you bite the back of your hand & stop pleasuring yourslef. Overstimation is happening. Frankie is pounding away.

“Tell me baby, tell me how good it is”

“Fuck it good, oooh fuck fuck fuck yes more”

“More?” He snarls & slaps your arse again. “damn” he feels like he is in your belly. So long & girthy. So deep inside. Your special spot probably needs a break it’s been hit so much, it needs to explode.

“Frankie please please please”

“Tell me baby” the noise of his thrusts have disappeared due tk the heavy breathing & both your volume as you moan.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m…I”

“My slutty wife, oh fuck”

Frankies words finish you off. You fully put all your energy back into his next thrust & then freeze. Thank god you’re gripping onto the sofa, because your thighs crumble & you drop slightly as your orgasm hits you. Frankie is almost instantaneous with yours.

“Jesus oooh fuck” he crys as he spills inside you, fill you up with his seed. His thumbs digging into your skin. There might be marks there in the morning. You think you’re going to go blind as you scrunch your eyes up. It always Feels extraordinary when you cum at the same time. It makes it so intense & phenomenal. Frankie growls & you collapse your head onto the arm of the sofa, trying to regain composure from your high.

“Baby” Frankie lifts you back up a few minutes later, himself also in an exhausted sweaty state. “Oooh baby” soft kisses fill you lips, filled with love. You only muster 2 words as you look at Frankie with a devilish smile.

“To bed?”…

You don’t turn in your sleep that often, not that you know of, but for some reason you have & you can feel a cooling matress next to you. But no flesh. You half open your eyes & then they fully open. Frankie is not beside you. The curtains are still pulled, the door is shut. Where is he? He’s in the bathroom you think but you can’t hear anyone walking around your small house. You slowly sit up to check he’s not anywhere in the room. Nope no Frankie. Usually if he’s up early especially considering your current circumstances, he leaves you a note or a message or he’s left you a cup of coffee for when you wake up. But no there’s nothing. You can’t even turn on your phone to see where he is. You’re off the grid. you can also see the burner phone sitting on his bedside table. You stretch getting out of bed & find a pair of long shorts & an oversized blue fluffy jumper to go & search for him around the property.

You search each room & the garden & look up & down the road looking for your man, but still no sign. This isn’t like Frankie at all, not since he’s been sober, but even with his issues he always told you what he was going to do or if he needed some him time. You head back inside & make yourself a flask of coffee, before then thinking about what you should do. It’s as you sniff the coffee brewing that you remember something. You put on your old running trainers, grabbing the flask & head through the lounge out of your house to go find him, you notice his hat is still on the table from last nights rampant escapades, so you put that on your head too, grab your keys & head to the beach.

People walk past you & wish you a merry Christmas before looking at the state of you. You’re wondering why so many people are up at 7am, but then you remember there’s a church at the top of your road. They are all going to go & bless Jesus but you just want to find your god of a husband. You are now regretting the shorts as a rushed choice of clothing. It’s not cold cold but the closer you get to the beach the breezier it gets. It’s a bit of a shock to the system but you are now fully awake. You walk the 7mins to the beach & start walking over the pebbles & rocks to get to the bay.

There he is. Your Catfish. Your husband. His shoes are off as he paddles in the incoming tide form the sea. He has also gone for shorts, his old jeans which he cut up a few years ago when he got engine oil down the bottom half of the legs. He’s got a grey jumper on underneath a big stripy woollen hoodie. His hair is a mess & his face looks like he’s conflicted. That’s him. That’s your Frankie.

“Frankie” you shout as you carefully but quickly manoeuvre your feet to get to him across the stony beach.

“Hey” it’s soft & a sigh follows it.

“Baby what are you doing, you left no note, you didn’t…” you see his shoulders, they are stressed & carrying the weight of the world the closer you get to him. You slow your steps down but you’re only a few meters away now. “Do you just need a minute”

“I’ve had a minute” he says as he steps out of the water onto the rocks to put his own trainers back on. “I think I’ve been here for at least 45 mins having a minute” it’s exasperated his tone.

“We can talk or not Frankie, you know I’m happy to do whatever.” He stands up & walks towards you, you see in those eyes that there’s still so much he wants to tell you but as much as you know your husband & have done everything for him, he doesn’t want to burden you with his struggles. He has now got to you & he takes his hat from your head, ruffles his own hair as he puts it on his own head, before he ruffles your still bed hair. Long, messy & mousey blonde.

“I just had so many plans, for us, for the next year, for this Christmas” he says. Sorrow ringing in his voice.

“It’s okay Frankie we…”

“No it’s not” he interupts. “We were going to do so much today, we were going to tell both our families we were going to get married, we were going to eat a fantastic feast sourrounded by those we love. But no I had to listen to the guys & go on the stupid fucking mission.” He kicks at a few stones as he turns a few bounce off the rocks. “Why can’t I catch a break”

“Shhh shhh shhh” you hold his face.”baby, this might not be what we had planned but we’re here & we’re making the best of it. There will be other Christmases but this one is more than unique” you look dead in his eyes & make intense eye contact. You both close your eyes & sigh, all the stress you’re hoping is leaving his body.”I love you frankie”

“I love you too” Frankie whispers your name against your lips before your lips meet. Soft & slow, taking in all of him. His hand is in your hair after he’s pushed it off your face a little. You could be kissing for just 5 seconds, 5minutes or 5 hours. Time stopped. Frankie realises as his lips slowly part yours that you are right. He needs to accept that this now is your Christmas. It might be away from home, in hiding & just the two of you, but you can still make it special.

“Sorry baby” Frankie whispers as your eyes flutter open. “I just feel like I’ve let you down, you didn’t even get a proper wedding”

“You could never let me down baby” you say before kissing him again “& who needs to spend 10grand on a wedding when you can get married with 2 random people as witnesses & a registra. It was perfect. Me & you.”

“I guess” he states, “that’s when we first came here. To this bay”

“Yes frankie” you giggle”it clearly left an impression”

“It did, I often sneak down here to get rid of the cobwebs in my brain & calm the stress”

“Does it work?” You ask as you sip you coffee, it’s getting colder in the flask.

“Try it?” He suggests. “Take 5 steps forward & close your eyes & just listen to the waves”

“Promise not to run off” you ask him as you step away from him.

“Never, I’m never leaving you again”

You stand completely still & face the sea & slowly close your eyes. The waves crashing into the rocks at the right of you, the way the salty beach air hits your face. Your own breathing being shallow. The warmth just about clinging to your flask & the fact your lips still taste of coffee. You stand in silence & feel the weight being lifted & a sense of calm rolls over you. It works Frankie was right.

You then feel Frankies own head rest in your shoulder. Your eyes stay shut.

“Forever” you mumble as your breathing hitches.

“Til death do us part baby” he whispers in your ear & the kisses pepper around the top of your shoulder & around your neck. This is the moment you realised you made the right choice. His hands wrap around you & you both just stand in silence. His own breaths are music to your ears better than any waves or music or bird song. You slowly feel at peace with everything.

“So…” Frankie says & you slowly open your eyes, cobwebs gone. “…I didn’t give you a proper Christmas wake up did I”

“Well I’m very awake now…”

“Ahhh I meant something more personal than running around trying to find me”

“Well this was a unique way to start Christmas day” you chuckle.

“Personal wasn’t the right word, I meant intimate” no one else is on the beach as Frankie seduces you with those words & he also slips his hand inside your shorts & his eyes light up when he touches flesh. You let out a short gasp as your mound receives its first touch of the day. He scoops you into his arms. “I’m not waiting another second.”

Frankie all but runs with you in his arms back to your house. People watch as you squark his name & he laughs.

“Merry Christmas” you each separately yell at people as he hurry’s you back into the house & kicks the door shut behind him a before he finally deposits you on the bed. The warmth of your house already feeling good to you both but what feels best to you is his hands dealing with your jumper.

“Oooh you were in a rush to find me,no underwear at all” Frankie says as he sucks licks your nipples. “You must love me” Your head rolls back.

“Frankie”

“Oooh fuck baby” he takes his hat off & puts in on your head as you are sitting up. His hoddie & jumper are quickly taken off. His chest always looks magnificent. A few scars from his missions in the past. A little bit of hair. It forms a happy trial. He drops to his knees & you lift up once his hands are in your waist band. The long shorts are slowly removed. You keep your legs together, you know he likes to ask.

“Show me baby” he says as he licks his lips.”please, slowly” you part your things revealing yourself to Frankie. He always looks like an excited puppy when he sees what he gets to taste, it very quickly goes to a brooding desperate husband. “Ooh darling.” He’s panting. His erection growing. He wants to go slowly but he knows once he’s between your legs he will get his fill. “This is the sexiest you’ve ever looked, naked except for my hat & your trainers. So beautiful” his words have you wanting him more. “What did I do to deserve you”

“So much Frankie” you lean forward & caress his face. An impish look glances at him & his smile is one the devil would have. His two large hands push against your breast & you are now laying down, it means you legs open a little bit more & he slide towards your treasure.

“Oooh baby, come to daddy” he say & he slowly licks your clit. Such a large tongue just starting its magic. His tastebuds excited.

“Mmmmmmmm” you make noise but you’re not sure what it registered as. “Frankie…”

“Mmmm exactly” his large thumb takes over, your clit being pleasured has your hips already moving. You can feel yourself clamping already. “Oooh what a lucky man I am” he then parts your legs a little more. “But now you’re going to be my lucky wife…” Frankie does say something more but your too busy trying not to cum at this early stage of the session, to comprehend the end of the sentance. But then you moan.

“Oooh frankie, fuck” he’s buried his head inside you. Not just lapping at the residue or keeping you stimulated. That magnificent tongue is more than just pressing against your enterance, is popping inside your cunt. You feel so sexy. Frankie is the king of oral.

You thrust your hands into his hair, grabbing the pillow or your own breasts werent doing it for you. You tussle his curls as you moan & everything unravels. You push his head further down. The more you push the more pleasure he gives. His nose is rubbing too, making your own rhythm faster. Your pussy quivers at each sensation much like his taste buds must be as he licks.

“Fuck, oooh fuck” your panting. His mouth taking in your sex. Your arousal growing. Your thighs griping around him, hard, but not for much longer at his pace. They will soon be jelly. You will soon be cumming all over his lips. He enjoys the salty taste & you like to make out afterwards as he starts to make love with you. You’re always so sensitive after this & the way his girthy penis will push into you, will have you reaching multiple highs this morning. The way his thick curls feel in your hands as you rustle more, as you feel each motion getting you higher has you whimpering. The words no longer able to be heard. But he can tell from your body you’re close. He’s being squeezed between your legs. His entire face is sticky. Sweat & your arousal. He knows he’s going to get a better taste soon.

He then removes the hand that was griping your hip & slips a finger inside you.

“Jesus” that makes a noise. It’s high pitched & breathy. The finger inside you, the one on your clit & the way his mouth tastes you has you gasping. Your hands dig into his head, thighs grip around him. He’s struggling now but he know it’s coming. You screech”Fuck fuck fuck” & you fall apart. He smiles not that you can see it as he tastes your cum. The clit is furiously rubbed by his thumb to keep your high going. He slurps & sucks away at the new sticky sensation in his mouth. Always his favourite meal. Your chest rises & falls, your nipples are hard, but the rest of your body relaxes in euphoria. He is the king of oral. No man has ever satisfied your cunt more than Frankie.

His head eventually rises after you’ve let go of his hair & you smile. What a mess your husbands face is, red from blushing & being excited. His hair a mess, those front few curls dripping with sweat. But it’s how slick his face is. It glistening like cake icing. You’re both proud of the mess you’ve made of him.

“Never gets old” he says as he unbuckles his belt & gets on top of you on the bed. The fingers that were inside you he trails over your breasts, especially around your erect nipples.

“One of my favourite joys in life” you managed to muster back. Your eyes are transfixed onto how sexy your husband looks right now.

“Mine too baby” his head is now above your, hoover. His hand removes his hat from your head, ending up on the floor. As you had hoped his lips meet yours & the way they feel & the way you can taste yourself on them has your heart pounding. Both your & his hands make quick work of his shorts & boxers. Just feeling his leaking length against your skin has you whinging into your kiss. Now your done with the clothes your hands go back to each other bodies. Touching all you want. He slowly moving up & down your body. He knows he’s doing it right. You both feel the sensation of his tip slowly gracing above your clit. The ultimate tease.

“Frankie” you moan & lift his head up slightly. This big brown eyes on that charming face look back at you. “I didn’t need anything for Christmas, i just wanted you to be happy.”

“& that my beautiful wife, I am.” Your body gives in & he slowly as his tongue finds your tonsils, exploring like it did your cunt earlier, fills you with his penis. You moan & feel full. The stretch is magnificent.

“Happy Christmas beautiful” Frankie says “the best gift of all was knowing you cared” & so continues your Christmas Day feast. It might not be your big planned day, but your circumstances, no matter how unfortunate they are, means you & Frankie can have some quality time together & multiple orgasms.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #over18 #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie catfish morales fan fic #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fan fic #triple frontier #Christmas

22 notes · View notes

kraekat29 · 3 months ago

Note

For the Juby Q&A!!! (Sorry if you’ve answered similar questions to these before I might’ve not seen it 😂)

1.) If Ruby had never gotten with Rafe, how to you think it would’ve affected her then relationship with JJ? We see in the prequel it was a VERY toxic one to say the least and it has affected her through the series. If it never happened, how would it have resulted in things being different?

2.) As Ruby gets older, does she ever acknowledge resentment toward Big John to being such a neglectful/absentee parent? How does she come to terms with that and acknowledge why he loved them he probably saw them (especially John B) as an extension of himself?

3.) Do Ruby and JJ ever get married? 👀

4.) What is college life like for Ruby? Does she participate in any clubs or such?

5.) Ideal vacation?

6.) At the end of the prequel, if JJ had a gun with him-do you think he would’ve shot Rafe dead when he found out that Rafe assaulted Ruby?

7.) Ruby beating the shit outta Luke Maybank if she ever came across him beating JJ?

This is a good one! So JJ and Ruby have always had a tension, always skirted around each other because of John B’s rule. Now if Rafe was never involved, I think her and JJ honestly would’ve become friends with benefits and eventually began dating. Regardless they were meant to be endgame. I feel like their relationship wouldn’t be as strong however, because they wouldn’t really have the shared trauma or him being her hero, I feel like they probably would’ve been on again off again before finally staying together in season 3.

2. Ruby never forgives her father, even as a full blown adult. Big John never cared about her because she was basically her mother’s twin, he looked at her and was reminded of what he destroyed. I haven’t dived into this yet, but he was also kind of abusive toward Ruby due to that fact. He only really cared about John B, and sometimes she would be left alone at the chateau for weeks at a time with no food or even power sometimes while they were on a fishing trip. She feels grief for her brother, but not for her father.

3. Yes! In the 18 month time skip JJ and Ruby are now officially married, in Suburban Legends we will get a flashback of their wedding and honeymoon.

4. College life for Ruby is very simple, due to her being pregnant at the time she stayed home and took a business class so her and JJ could own the surf shop and charter business. JJ convinced her to join a baking club just so she can get out of the house two days a week. But other than that she mainly stayed home.

5. their ideal vacation is going to Yucatán and doing nothing but surfing, it’s been their dream since they were kids.

6. absolutely! In fact, there is going to be a scene where JJ does get his hands on one of his fathers guns, but John B stops him, knowing that killing Rafe and JJ going to jail would only cause Ruby more pain.

7. yes!! She has gone toe to toe several times with Luke, even as a little girl she would try her best to go after him to get him away from JJ. In All Too Well we will see one of JJ’s worst beatings, this is where we learn Ruby has a dark side of her own when she goes to hunt down Luke and teach him a lesson.

#jj maybank #ruby routledge #juby #🦋beautiful mistakes series🦋#haven <3

3 notes · View notes

igbylicious · 11 months ago

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt 1

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

summary: You accidentally walk in on your neighbour having sex with his boyfriend. The boyfriend has an interesting suggestion.

wc: 2.4k

ch. warnings: accidental voyeurism, exhibitionism, dom San, sub Wooyoung, established Woosan, m x m, anal sex, finger sucking, degradation, cumming untouched

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, epilogue

Choi San is the best neighbour you’ve ever had.

He is always kind and polite, he lets you hang out with his cat Byeol whenever you like, hell, he even accepts your packages when you’re not home (and doesn’t steal them). One time he even got you groceries when you were sick, going as far as to make you some soup and check in the next day.

And, the most telling fact of what a considerate neighbour San is; despite the paper-thin walls of your apartment, you have little noise complaints, other than the rare moment when he gets too caught up in his online games in the middle of the night.

Well. No. No, you have to scratch that last one, actually.

The lack of noise was only until he got together with his current boyfriend. After that, everything changed.

San first met Jung Wooyoung a few months ago, and the two have been all over each other ever since. You’ve only seen Wooyoung a few times, but that is enough to know that his personality is as loud and lively as his bright red hair, and clearly that translates into the bedroom.

But the thing is, you can tell that they are trying to keep it down, and you like San too much to rain on his parade. Especially with how well things are going between them, and Wooyoung is never anything but friendly to you.

So; noise-cancelling headphones it is.

(Honestly, your biggest complaint is that you wish they didn’t sound so hot doing it. It’s making you feel like a bit of a voyeur even though you don’t mean to listen in, every muffled moan testing your self-control to not just grab a vibrator instead of your headphones and rub one out in tune with their sounds.)

(It is one part decency that holds you back, and one part the fact that paper-thin walls go two ways, and you don’t know how you’d ever face San again if he heard you in turn, enjoying yourself to the show he obliviously puts on with Wooyoung.)

But you live in blissful silence this week, since San is out for a trip with Wooyoung. Visiting family in his home town, and it was adorable how excited San was about the trip when he told you. Things are going fast between him and Wooyoung, but it seems to work for them. He also asked you to take care of Byeol while he was gone, a task you were all too happy to take on.

This is what brings you to San’s apartment today.

He and Wooyoung are set to return tomorrow, so it is your last evening of feeding the cat. Keys jingle in your hand, and the apartment is quiet as you step inside. San keeps his place tidy, fairly minimalist with plenty of black and white — but there is enough decoration to keep it from feeling bare. A large collage of photographs hangs on a wall in the hallway; pictures of his hometown and of holidays, friends and family, even one of the taekwondo school where he works. On the photo he is huddled together with a group of young students, all wearing big smiles, San’s the biggest and proudest of all.

You can spy more signs of Wooyoung’s increased presence in the living room; the amount of games and controllers by the TV has doubled, and there’s a bottle of soju tucked away in a cabinet, along with a bomber jacket strewn over the couch. (Huh. Was that there earlier this week? You must’ve missed it.)

You hear a muffled thump.

“Byeol?”

The noise repeats itself and you frown, trying to locate the source. It seems to come from the bedroom — did the cat get herself locked in there?

Concerned that Byeol has somehow gotten herself stuck, you head over to the door. Your hand is already on the handle, pushing down, when a small meow pipes up from behind. You turn your head, only to see Byeol stare at you with her big blue eyes.

…Huh. Hang on… If Byeol is over here…then what is…?

But that thought has no chance of reaching its logical conclusion before the door is already opening, and what you see in the bedroom almost has you drop the keys to the floor.

Wooyoung and San.

On the bed.

Where San is fucking the living daylights out of Wooyoung.

You freeze at the sight; Wooyoung is completely naked, but San is behind him with only his jeans unzipped and jerked down far enough for access. San has Wooyoung pulled up against his chest, burrowing his face in Wooyoung’s neck to muffle his groans.

Now you understand why you didn’t hear them; Wooyoung’s mouth is stuffed with three of San’s fingers, drool escaping from the corner of his lips. Reduced to little hiccuping moans instead of his usual noisy whimpers. His body is jostled in time with San’s hard thrusts and his hard cock is fully on display, flushed and leaking. The sheer desperation on his face is lewd, tears gleaming in his eyes and drool trailing down his chin, his bright red hair sweaty and — oh god, is that a new eyebrow piercing?

San is so lost in his goal to litter Wooyoung’s neck with lovebites that he does not even notice you, roughly fucking into his boyfriend with no idea of you standing right there — but Wooyoung’s tearful eyes widen when they catch yours.

You can’t help a choked moan at the moment of contact, the view too much for your frazzled brain to process, but your noise is drowned out by Wooyoung’s desperate whine, garbled around the fingers stuffed in his mouth. It pushes him over the edge, convulsing in San’s hold as his cock twitches, spilling long, messy ropes of cum on the bedspread.

You are vaguely aware of the fact that your mouth has fallen open, but your body refuses to move, refuses to do anything but stare while San chuckles, holding up Wooyoung’s trembling body in his strong arms.

“That desperate, huh? Look at you, I never even touched your cock at all. Is that all it takes to break you, a week without getting dicked down?” San says — your sweet, polite neighbour San — his voice tight from the effort of snapping his hips, betraying how close he is himself. “What a needy mess you are, all fucked up from just my cock pounding that tight ass.” His fingers slip out of Wooyoung’s mouth, coating his boyfriend’s face with saliva as he goes in for a rough kiss.

Wooyoung shakes his head before their lips can meet, croaking out a weak, “Sannie…” and nudges his chin at the doorway. At you, still frozen in place.

San turns his head, eyes finally landing on you.

“Shit!” he exclaims, nearly dropping Wooyoung onto the bed. Somehow he manages to catch his boyfriend and pulls out, covering Wooyoung with a blanket. Then he quickly tucks his cock away in his pants, ears glowing with a furious shade of crimson.

It’s very difficult to ignore the fact that San is still hard, but you try your best. Not that that amounts to much. Finally the pornographic audio that plagued you for weeks is paired with a visual, and you were not prepared.

To see their bodies so intimately entangled, San’s muscular frame wrapped around Wooyoung, his nakedness leaving nothing to the imagination. Lean body, thick thighs, San’s hand splayed across his stomach, fingers brushing close to Wooyoung’s flushed, pretty— nononono don’t think about that. Don’t get distracted don’t get distracted—

San clumsily shuffles off the bed, and finally you jolt back into action just as he does. Both of you stammer awkward apologies at each other, not giving each other a chance to finish.

“Shit, I totally forgot to text you—”

“I should have realised you were back when I saw the jacket—”

Wooyoung, who is slowly recovering from his orgasm and making himself comfortable on the bed, looks far less thrown by this turn of events than either you or his boyfriend. He has his head tilted to the side, listening to your frantic exchange with the amused interest of someone following the back-and-forth of a tennis match. (A clumsy, comically amateurish tennis match, where both players keep fumbling the ball.)

“I am so sorry about all this—”

“No, I’m sorry! Usually I can hear when—��

Oh fuck. You throw your hands in front of your mouth, forcibly cutting yourself off from the words “when you two are having sex,” but it is too late.

San’s eyebrows shoot all the way up into his hairline, eyes wide with shock as realisation hits that they haven’t been as discreet as he’d assumed. Dammit, of all the days for them to finally get a lock on volume control!

An awkward silence lands in the room.

San grimaces, running a hand through his sweaty hair, while you find yourself contemplating the pros and cons of just turning around, leave the apartment and find a sea to walk into until you can no longer see the shore. Pointedly avoiding eye-contact with both of the men, you notice a half-unpacked suitcase in the corner, and it reminds you of why you’re in San’s apartment in the first place.

“So. Uh. How was your trip?” you blurt out. (What? Who in the world asks that, right now? Why do you keep saying things!)

Yet somehow you appear to have stumbled into the right move; San is so caught off-guard by the casual inquiry that he just goes along with it, running on full auto-pilot. “Oh. Yeah. Good, it was good,” he rambles, while Wooyoung quietly snorts a laugh in the background. “Bit too much rain, that’s why we left early. How’d it go over here? Did Byeol behave?”

“She’s had a rough time of it, honestly. One of her favourite mice got trapped behind the fridge. It was a tragedy,” you say, pinching the bridge of your nose with a dramatic shake of your head. “She was inconsolable until I managed to fish it out.”

San relaxes at your goof, testing a smile on his lips. “Woah, you’re a bona fide hero!” he teases.

“Damn straight! Iron Man’s got nothing on me,” you say, pulling out a reference you know San will appreciate.

He does; his smile is still abashed but a telling dimple pokes in his cheek while he leads you out of the bedroom. The breaking of tension floods you with relief; things will be okay between you. You don’t have to move to a different country to escape the sheer embarrassment of what just happened. Maybe it will be awkward in the hallways for a few weeks, but then everyone will (pretend to) forget all about it and you will be fine.

“Hey,” Wooyoung chimes in, just as you’re crossing the doorway to the living room. “Did you like the view?”

Instantly, you freeze all over again.

Wooyoung is lying on his stomach, resting his chin on crossed arms. Bare legs stick out from underneath the blanket, bent at the knees as his feet swing back and forth in the air; he looks at you with the deceptively wide-eyed innocence of a coquettish femme fatale.

“Well? Did you like it?” he presses when you utterly fail to answer.

“Woo…” San says, a warning in his voice.

“What?! I’m just asking cause it seemed to me she liked it!” Wooyoung protests. “I liked it. We can be honest adults about this, right?”

“How are you being adult about—?”

Someone interrupts San. To your surprise, it’s you.

“…I did like it.”

Maybe Wooyoung’s boldness is contagious. Maybe your brain just isn’t working right anymore. But honestly, what’s the point in denying it? You’ve already dug a hole this deep for yourself; might as well lie in it.

“Oh god,” San groans, hiding his face in his hand. “Is this really happening right now? Why is this happening?”

“San, we’ve literally talked about this!”

“Yes, we talked! In private!”

Hang on, what? They…they talked about this? What does ‘this’ mean? The someone watching them have sex part? The you part??

“So? The next step is talking to her, right?” Wooyoung says, his face going stubborn. “She likes the view, we like the audience, what’s the issue?”

…Oh. It is both parts.

You blink numbly; you are still trying to process the scene that you’d walked into, and now you’re immediately forced to process the next twist of the day.

It’s not that you’re completely shocked by an interest from San of any kind; you did catch him checking out your ass with enough admiration to know he’s not a full six on the Kinsey Scale — or at the very least an equal opportunist when it comes to the appreciation of a fine-looking ass. (Not that he ever was creepy about it; no more than a discreet, appreciative glance.)

Of course, he never acted on any attraction that he may or may not have had towards you, before he and Wooyoung got together. And neither had you, since you aren’t exactly the ‘dinner and a movie’ type of person — and you didn’t want to be too forward about other less romantic activities; why risk ruining a good thing when a helpful, friendly neighbour like San is so hard to find?

But now, with all this new information on the table, a very clear answer to the question of ‘why ruin a good thing’ presents itself, and the answer is quite compelling indeed.

San takes a deep breath, sighs out, and composes himself. “Alright, alright, Wooyoung. You have a point.” He turns to you. “Um—”

“Hey.” This time, Wooyoung is the one who interrupts San; he looks straight at you with the serious expression of someone who is about to impart an absolutely crucial piece of information. “You know, San thinks you have a great ass.”

“Oh. Yeah, I know he does,” you blurt out, running a self-conscious hand over the curve of your rear. All mental filters have abandoned the conversation, apparently.

San begins to stammer again, but his words are completely overpowered by Wooyoung’s loud, cackling laugh. “Cheer up, Sannie!” he says, still half-laughing and absolutely delighted with every turn of event that has happened within the last ten minutes. “I think this will work out just fine.”

You catch San’s eyes, trying to estimate just how on-board he is with it all. The burn of his embarrassment does not exactly fade away; instead, its heat gradually morphs into something else, a darkening smoulder in his gaze as he looks you over. His eyes linger on your hand, still resting on your ass.

Wooyoung is right. This will work out just fine.

#igby’s writing #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez fic #woosan x reader #san smut #san x reader #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #san imagines #wooyoung imagines #san scenarios #wooyoung scenarios

980 notes · View notes

survey--s · 2 years ago

Text

444.

When was the last time you sang out loud? In the shower about four and a half hours ago. How many people do you know with the name ‘Joshua’? None anymore, but I knew quite a few Joshuas when I was younger. Where were the last three places you went: Copper’s house, Ollie’s house and Charlie’s house. What time was it 4 hours ago? 2.37pm. What were you doing at that time? Eating lunch and watching Hoarders.

Have you ever picked up a penny because you thought it was good luck? Sure, as a little kid I did that all the time. Are you over 16? I’m over twice that age now, lol. Are you taller than 5'6"? Yeah, by two and a half inches lol. Were you born after 1991? Nope. Does your last name start with a 'C’? It does not. Why did you last go to the doctor? To get a sick note from work. Are you currently single? No. How do you feel about that? Happy. Do you have a twin? No. What was the last song you listened to? I can’t remember. My Spotify has been weird lately and keeps crashing. Who was your 5th grade teacher? Mrs Amtower, I think? What is the longest you’ve lived in one place? Like, in one house? 11 years. In terms of one town, 18 years without a break. Do you live in Chicago? I don’t even live in America. Have you ever climbed a water tower? No - and this really reminds of That 70′s Show. Have you ever soaped someone’s car? Like, washed it? Sure. Have you ever introduced yourself with a name other than your own? Yes. Do you have hazel eyes? No, but this question just makes me think of Kelly Clarkson. Can you play the piano? Yeah, I got my Grade 3 many year ago, though I’ve not played since. Would you shave your head for $100? No. What color are the sheets on your bed? Purple. Who was your last missed phone call? The company I order my dog treats with for work. They ring every few months with some offer - I never answer and yet they never stop, lol. Your last received phone call? Mike. Your last dialed phone call? My mum. What’s a good movie you recently saw that you would recommend? I haven’t seen a good, new movie for ages lol. How many times does the letter ’t’ occur in your full name? Once. Would you consider yourself more artistic or mathematical? Neither, really, but I guess overall I’m more artistic. How old is the oldest person that lives in the same house as you? 38. How about the youngest? That’s me, and I just turned 34. Or, if we include animals, Toby is nearly three. What year is the vehicle you drive? It’s a 2016 Hyundai i10. Are you older than the last person you kissed? No. What day will it be in 2 days? Friday. How does that make you feel? Pleased as it’ll nearly be the weekend. Which is closer right now: your birthday or Christmas? My birthday, but only by a couple of weeks. Do you have any item your consider your good luck charm? No. What jewelry are you currently wearing? 7 x earrings, nose stud and my wedding and engagement rings. What is your hair naturally like? Frizzy. Do you have freckles? No. When did you go to bed last night? I went to bed around 10-ish but I didn’t get to sleep until gone midnight. How many gallons of milk would you say are currently in your fridge? Uh, we have a 4 pint bottle of milk and about a pint left over in another bottle. Do you like coffee? I love coffee. Favorite flavor of poptart? I’m really not a fan of pop-tarts. They always sound much nicer than they are. Who were the last non-relatives you hung out with? Mark and Susie. Do you share your last name with anyone famous? Yeah, a few people. Is there anything bothering you at the moment? I’m tired and it’s meant to snow tonight which means my whole day could get throw off tomorrow, lol. Who is someone you can tell almost anything? Mike. What was your name supposed to be if you were born the opposite sex? Alexander. Have you eaten any fresh fruit today? No fresh fruit, but I’ve had carrots, red peppers, cucumber and sweetcorn, plus an orange juice. What song best describes your mood at the moment? I’m So Tired by The Beatles. Are your fingernails currently painted? No. When was the last time you went to the beach? This morning. I live two minutes from the beach. Have you ever donated plasma because you were short on cash? No. Do you live with anyone who smokes? No. Mike used to smoke but he quit not long after we got together. Do you know anyone who works at Walmart? At the UK equivalent, sure. I used to work there too. How about McDonald’s? No. Who did you see the last time you went to a concert? I think it was The Courteeners. If you died, would you rather be buried or cremated? Cremated and turned into a diamond. The idea of being buried really creeps me out for some reason, lol. How many pockets do you have in the clothes you are wearing? Zero. Do you tend to carry around alot of spare change? No. I only ever have cash when Jill pays me and I haven’t had time to go to the Post Office. Do you know anyone who lives in Pennsylvania? Yeah, a couple of people from my Xanga days. Which holiday do you most look forward to? Christmas, I guess. How many contacts do you have in your phone under the letter ’D’? Just one, the dentist lol. If you had to relive the entire last month over again, how would you feel? It’s been a good month but I still wouldn’t want to re-live it. What do you generally wear to bed? An oversized t-shirt and underwear. Think back to 6 months ago, were you single or taken? Married, the same as now. Do you still talk to your best friend from kindergarten? Nope. What color are the walls in your kitchen? Cream. When was the last time you had a haircut? About three months ago. Do you watch Family Guy? No. Who was the last person you went to the movies with? My mum. Do you own a Bible? No. What is your favorite day of the week? It depends on the week, the weather and which dogs I have booked in. What was the last sit-down restaurant you went to? Uhh, a tapas bar in Windermere with my mum. I forget the name exactly but the food was amazing, haha. Have you ever had a pet snake? No. Have you ever dated someone who had kids? Yeah, Chris did, and let me tell you, I would NEVER do it again. Is your best friend single or taken? We’re married. Why did your last relationship end? He was a compulsive liar who denied three of his own children. Is there anyone you wish you could see right now? Nah, not right now. I’m tired and it’s due to snow and I just CBA lol. Have you ever dreamt of a crush? Sure. What color was the shirt you wore yesterday? Grey. How many times have you been to Six Flags? Never, we don’t have them over here. Have you ever been to the Statue of Liberty? No. Do you have any vacation plans at the moment? Nah, not yet. I’d like to go away at some point though even if it’s just a long weekend, but we have nothing booked. Would you rather live 1 day of your future or relive your favorite memory? The latter, for sure. Do you own a pair of colored contacts? No. Where was your profile photo taken? On the beach - Lisa took it. Who was the last person to hug you? Mike. Have you ever broken a finger? No, I’m pretty sure I’ve broken my little toe a few times though. Do you know anyone with a pierced eyebrow? Not now, but I remember when they were ALL the rage. Are you dating the last person you kissed? We’re married. Do you regret your last kiss? No. Are you related to anyone with the name Andrew? Nope. When did you learn to tie your shoes on your own? I was about four or five, I think. Where did you go to grade school? I’m not putting that on here. Do you live within 30 miles of where you were born? Nope, I’m pretty much exactly 300 miles from where I was born (299.6 to be precise) lol. Are you an only child? Yeah. Did you vote in the 2008 presidential election? I’m not American. Are you older than your best friend? Nope. Do you talk to your neighbors much? We say hi if we see each other in the street, but that’s the extent of it. When was the last time your wore a skirt (girls) or a tie (boys)? Years ago. What’s something you are good at cooking? Roast potatoes. Do you know anyone in the Navy? No. List one of your favorite quotes: “Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” - Neil Gaiman.

#survey #surveys

0 notes

syddsatyrn · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 1⛤ Chapter 2 ⛤Chapter 3⛤ Chapter 4 ⛤Masterlist

⛤Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Metal!FemReader

⛤Warnings: Mentions of death, swearing, smoking, fluff if you squint.

⛤Words: 3.1k

⛤Song: "Heaven" by The Cure

⛤Series Playlist

⛤Summary: With no one left in Hawkins to tend to your little cousin, you step up and rise to the challenge. Time for a new start and a chance to prove to yourself you can be a responsible adult. But Robin left out one little detail, the hot metal head that lives two doors down.

⛤Notes: This series is 18+ Minors scram. I wanted to write something with Max as the readers little cousin. This will be a 3 part series, I hope. I wanna thank @hellfiremunsonn for being my beta reader, you're a legend.

Chapter 1⛤Navigating New Roads

The sun shines through your windshield as you turn the bend, you quickly grab your sunglasses from the center console and put them on. The fresh Indianna air was clean and crisp, nothing like Atlanta. Motley Crue is blaring through the stereo of your Chevrolet El Camino your Dad passed down to you when you graduated. You check the rearview mirror every so often to make sure your U-Haul is still intact. You’ve been driving for 7 hours now, you managed to find a little rundown motel in Glasgow Kentucky last night and was able to get a little bit of sleep.

A large Earthquake hit Hawkins a year ago and your Aunt Susan didn't make it. You and your mom cried and held each other after you heard the news. We knew she was going through hard times after her husband left, Max told me everything. But you’ve always been fond of Susan, she was a sweet lady, all smiles and laughs. It's going to be tough without her bright smile, visits, and homemade baked goods.

It was then your parents agreed you would move to Indiana and live with your cousin and take care of her. It took some time for you to get your affairs in order so, in the meantime, Max has been staying with the Hendersons. When you told your now ex boyfriend about the move, he literally freaked. He was hysterical and begged you to stay, no matter how many conversations you had explaining why it's the right thing to do. It resulted in a nasty break up that really complicated the moving process. Starting new in Hawkins might just be what you need.

You also missed your baby cousin's freckled face so much. You are both practically sisters rather than cousins. Max was in an accident involving the earthquake that landed her in the hospital for quite some time. She was in a coma and you were absolutely devastated by it. It pains you to think about because you wish you had been there to do something, anything to prevent this. You recall one of Max’s friends was visiting and she suddenly woke up. You remember a girl named El approached you in the waiting room. She told you Max was awake, you hugged her and cried so many tears of relief and happiness. While you were at the hospital, you met a girl named Robin and you both hit it off. She promised you that she would look out for her while you're gone.

Max is still recovering with medications to take and schoolwork to catch up on. She needs a schedule and a guiding hand to get her back on track. Luckily, last time you visited you found an affordable apartment not far from town. The landlord was very kind and cut you a deal after you told him your situation. You have been prepping for this move for months now, saving money, packing, . One of Max’s friends, Robin, works next to a record store. Apparently, she knows the owner really well and dropped your name. You came into the store the next day and filled out the application. It didn't take long for a call to come through at the Henderson household, you got the job and you start the week after you arrive.

Everything seemed to be falling into place. You’re feeling confident about this journey and the sudden change in scenery. Maybe the fresh air might do you some good too. You finally see a sign for a gas station and you pull into the entrance and alongside an open gas pump. Getting out and stretching your arms and legs feels so good, you almost can't feel your butt from sitting for so long. The little bell on the top of the door rings as you enter the station. The attendant looked busy so you walked in and headed straight for the coffee counter. After pouring yourself a cup you walk over to the register and give him cash for gas, coffee, and a pack of “Lucky Strike” filtered cigarettes.

As you are pumping gas you take a sip of the hot bitter liquid and take a deep breath. According to your watch, it's almost 8 am. You should reach Hawkins around noon as long as traffic behaves. You put the nozzle back and quickly hop back in your car. Before you get back on the main road, you slip your sunglasses on, light a cigarette, and turn up the stereo.

“So I'm heading out to the highway

I got nothing to lose at all

I'm gonna do it my way

Take a chance before I fall

A chance before I fall!”

----------⛤

When you pulled into the driveway you could see the redhead through the front bay window. Max quickly rushes out the front door with a curly-haired boy with a bright blue cap. “Y/N you made it!” Max cheers and jumps into your arms. You laugh and hug her tight, she almost knocks you over completely. “Hey kid, I missed you so much!” You say and gently set her down. “Who's your friend?” You ask, pointing at the little dude with a wide smile.

“This is Dustin. He’s alright I guess.” Max playfully punches his shoulder.

“It's nice to meet you, Y/N!” Dustin says and you shake his hand. Dustin takes a good look at your outfit, black torn jeans, leather jacket, Iron Maiden t-shirt that you cut into a crop top.

“I like your Jacket! You should really meet my friend Eddie, I have a feeling you guys would get along.”

“Thanks, little dude. Y’know…Robin said the same thing.” You turn to Max, “alright, Max, let's go get your stuff.”

Max beamed and went back into the house and you giggled and followed them inside. You have a nice chat with Claudia, Dustin's mom. She tells you all about how Max is doing in school, what kind of medications she's taking and for what, and even some of her recent achievements. She still has some trouble with mobility but it has gotten so much better, Claudia says it's because she's young, she bounced right back. Dustin helps Max grab her suitcases and bags and leaves them next to your car. You thanked Claudia a million times for taking such good care of her and gave her a warm hug. Max said her goodbyes as well, even though she’ll be seeing the boy at school very soon.

“I’m going to miss you so much, sweet pea!” Claudia says with a hug and a kiss on Max’s cheek. You both wave goodbye and you help Max into the passenger side of the car. You get in and smile at her real big, “I got you a present.” and Max’s eyes get wide.

“No way, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

“Yes way, and I wanted to!” You retort and stick your tongue out. You reach behind her seat and struggle a bit but you manage to pull a brand-new skateboard into the front seat and set it on her lap.

“What!? Y/N! This is Amazing!” Max exclaims and turns it over to reveal the colorful rainbow designs on the underside.

“I heard your last one split and two, your Aunt and I put our wallets together and found this at a skate shop in Atlanta.” You explain and she reaches over the center console and hugs you tight.

“This is totally awesome, thank you so much Y/N” She says.

“Alright, alright,” You laugh, “Are you ready to see our new place?” You ask and Max nods. You turn the stereo back to full blast and pull out of the cul de sac.

----------⛤

You open the front door with your brand-new keys and Max walks inside first. Her backpack slides off her shoulder and onto the floor as she looks around. The living room was attached to the kitchen, with a small hallway leading to two bedrooms and a small bathroom. Robin helped you find some used furniture while you were back in Atlanta. A small couch and a table near the kitchen with two matching chairs. Robin even bought you a phone as a housewarming gift.

“It's not much but it’s ours.” You sigh and Max turns around on her heel.

“I think it’s perfect.” She smiles and you start to head back outside to the car.

“Then it’s settled. Be careful bringing stuff inside, only small things oka–” You barely rounded the corner before you almost collided with a tall figure. You back away quickly, “Shit, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s no big deal, cutie.”

You meet this man's gaze and your heart falls into your stomach. His eyes are like amber pools reflecting the afternoon sunlight. He has long, wavy hair just past his shoulders. He looks like Izzy Stradlin and it's kinda freaking you out.

Max hears his familiar voice, “Munson?”

“In the flesh.” He smiles. “Hey, Red! I didn't know you were moving here?”

“Yeah! This is my cousin, Y/N.”

“Ohh! So you're the cousin everyone keeps talking about.” He simply smiles. “I’m Eddie, I live two doors down.” He holds his hand out and you shyly take it. He brings your hand up to his lips for a quick kiss. A red tint spreads across your face, you’re stunned, everything about him is irresistible. You almost forgot to breathe, god he's so hot.

“The famous Eddie everyone keeps telling me I need to meet.” You say, trying to regain your composure. Max rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. She had every intention of setting you two up, she just didn't think it would happen so soon.

“So, are we going to start unloading or are you going to keep staring at him?” Max says, sarcasm in full force.

“Shut up, Max.” You huff as she passes you on her way to the car.

“I should uhh…probably help her.” You say sheepishly.

“Let me know if you need anything, hmm?” He says while lighting a cigarette. “See ya around?”

“Y-yeah, see ya.” You trail off. You feel like you're suddenly under some sort of spell. You took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as you watched him walk away. Black boots, Dio back patch, he was wearing a Metallica T-shirt. The rings on his fingers made you weak, and his lips look so soft.

“Y/N! Hurry up!” Max calls.

“Yeah, yeah I’m comin’! Jeeze!”

Since you were on the ground floor, it made things pretty easy, you were able to move both beds inside by yourself. Max is a trooper and made a huge effort in putting things away. She took frequent breaks and drank lots of water just like you asked. The apartment is starting to look like people actually live here. It's getting late so you ordered a couple of pizzas, cut up the cake and sat across from Max on the floor. You listened to her plans to decorate her bedroom and all her summer adventures. When she mentioned her mom and Billy, her gaze shifted to her hands.

“Hey, Max. I know the wound is still fresh. It's just you and me now. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine, right?”

“Right.” She agrees with an endearing smile but that smile quickly changes into a mischievous one.

“As long as you don't run away with Eddie and get married!” She mocks and throws a balled-up napkin at your face.

“You are such a brat sometimes!”

----------⛤

The sun peeks through the curtains and you cover your face with a pillow. It feels like forever since you’ve had a good night's sleep. You sigh and roll out of bed, there is no use in going back to sleep when it's so bright in here. You slip on a pair of black shorts under your oversized black t-shirt. You hear a knock at the door, it's 10 am and you’re not expecting anyone. After grabbing a cigarette and a lighter, you groan and shuffle over to the front door. The lock clicks and you swing it open halfway.

To your surprise, it's the hot metal head next door holding two to-go cups of coffee, one in each hand. “Good morning, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet like honey. You realize you look like a hot mess and your face turns bright pink.

“Good morning, Eddie.”

“Figured you might need this after yesterday.” He offers the paper cup and you take it. You take a few steps outside and shut the door behind you, trying not to wake up Max.

You take a sip and all is right in the world. This is exactly what you needed, you haven't bought groceries yet so making coffee this morning wasn't an option. “Thank you, really. You’re my hero.” Eddie flicks his lighter and lights your cigarette for you, a total gentleman. You’re falling for every single one of his tricks but you don't seem to mind. “What are you up to today?”

“Work, but I have a gig tonight at a bar in town.”

“You’re in a band?!”

“Yeah, Corroded Coffin. We play mostly metal, some rock.” He shrugs.

“You are so cool y’know that?”

“Coming from the girl who drives an El Camino like she stole it.” Eddie cocks his head to the side and leans against the wall next to you. He's so much taller than you, and the closer he leans into your space, the redder your face gets. He smells like weed and cologne, mixed with a hint of copper.

“Lemme guess, you’re the lead guitarist.”

“How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” You shrug.

“So…will you come?” His sweet puppy eyes keep throwing you off and you almost get lost in his dark brown pools, coffee-colored. The sun brings out those amber highlights around his iris again.

“I’ll think about it, Munson.” You answer playfully.

“8 pm at ‘The Hideout’ on 12th and Cedar street.” He says with a boyish grin as he walks back to his Black van parked across the way, he almost trips on a curb when he turns around and you giggle. You put your cigarette out and walk back inside, coffee in hand.

Max is lounging on the couch reading a magazine when you enter. “How did you sleep, kid?”

“Good! I was beat.” She snorts, “How's Eddie?”

“He invited me to see his band tonight. I might go.”

“Like a date?” Max snorts and puts her magazine down.

“I don't know if I would call it that.”

“It totally is.” She retorts with that signature ‘up to no good’ grin.

“It totally isn’t.” You say on your way to the bathroom. You shut the door behind you before you can hear Max’s last words.

“Whatever you say.” Max holds back a laugh and returns to her reading.

You exit the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around you and sneak back into your bedroom. You pick out some fresh clothes, black shorts, and a Def Leppard shirt. The outfit goes really well with your black Doc-Martens and a few chains around your wrist and neck. You check your standing mirror and spin around. Satisfied with your outfit, you grab your bag and tell Max you’re going into town.

“Want anything?”

"Cherry Coke and something sweet.” She requests.

“You got it. Love you, back soon.” You shut the door behind you and hop in the car. The engine roars and you carefully back out of the parking lot with the empty U-haul trailer. You blast some Iron Maiden as you drive into town. You have a few errands to run, you need to get groceries, drop off the trailer, and rent a few movies for you and Max to watch.

Everything went smoothly, even grocery shopping wasn't so bad. When you saw the bakery across the street you had to check it out. You found a chocolate cake with buttercream icing and you couldn't resist. You pull into the small parking lot next to “Family Video” and check to make sure your cake is seatbelted and secure in the back seat. The little bell on top of the door rang as you opened it, Robin’s face lit up and she practically flew over the counter.

“Y/N! Yes! You’re here!” She gives you a big hug and you squeeze her back. It’s been so long since you’ve seen her and she hasn't changed a bit.

“Hey, Robin! It’s good to see you!” you cheered. Steve steps out from behind the counter and gives you a little wave.

“This is Steve, I’ve told you about him.” Robin gestures towards her taller colleague.

“Ah yes, the famous Steve Harrington, babysitter extraordinaire.” You tease.

“Yeah, uhh something like that.” Steve was caught off guard, he didn't expect you to look so cool. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Max speaks highly of you.”

You chat with them for a bit and update Robin on your progress and how Max is doing. While you're there you pick out a few movies you think Max would enjoy. She likes horror and mystery movies. You settled on “Terror at the Opera”, “The Lost boys” and “Evil Dead”.

You wave goodbye and exit the store, and enter the record shop right next door. You wave at the shop owner and He greets you with a handshake. He tells you quite a bit about your new job, he gives you a nametag and a set of keys since you’ll be on the closing shift. You take a quick look around and notice the wide selection of tapes and records. Band posters and fliers are plastered all over the walls, there are a couple of record players off to the side for customers to listen before they buy. It’s dimly lit and smells a little like dust. This place is certainly your vibe and you’re looking forward to it.

“Maaaax I’m home!” You call out, grocery bags hanging off your arms while you carefully set the cake on the counter. Max hops up from the couch and starts putting things away.

“Whoa! This cake is huge!” Max comments.

“You said you wanted something sweet. It's a housewarming cake.”

Max chuckles and carefully puts it in the refrigerator. She pulls a can of coke from the bottom shelf and cracks it open. You do the same and you both take a seat on the living room floor facing each other.

“Sooo...are you going to that show tonight?”

“Yeah, I think it'll be fun.”

“Is it okay if I hang out at Mike's place?”

“Yeah, sure! What are you guys gonna do?”

“Play video games, watch a movie, I also wanna try out my new board. Oh! And you know Karen’s got the best junk food.”

“Sounds like fun. I can drop you off before I head to the show.” You offer and Max nods.

294 notes · View notes

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 ��, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

4K notes · View notes

royaltyofmultifandom · 3 years ago

Text

I can do it better - Chapter Four // Elizabeth Olsen

Summary: Lizzie and reader have been dating for a couple years now. Reader comes across Lizzie’s movie In Secret and insists they watch it. Whilst watching Reader suggests that they recreate Lizzie’s sex scenes to which, Lizzie agrees eagerly.

Warnings: Heavy Smut! (18+) MINORS DON’T INTERACT, swearing, explicit language, fingering, oral (fem receiving and giving), face-riding, edging, squirting, strap on, praise, begging and I think that’s it but do let me know if I miss anything!

Words: 3,827

A/N: Hey everyone! So sorry this chapter is a week late my schedule got super hectic. But this one is a long one so hopefully that makes up for it. Anyway as always thank you for the support and don’t forget to let me know what you think, enjoy.

MASTERLIST // Join my Taglist! // Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 ,Chapter 4, Chapter 5

It’s been about a month and a half since your raunchy picnic with Lizzie and it’s safe to say you miss her like crazy.

You kept your promise and have been facetiming Lizzie every night after you finished work. Thankfully, where Lizzie was filming it was only three hours ahead as she was in Toronto at the moment.

It hasn’t been easy being away from Lizzie but you know you have to keep up the front for Lizzie as she often gets upset when one of you has to hang up. Each day you wake up and go to work walking mindlessly around holding on to the excitement that you will be talking to her once you get home. Life without Lizzie being here feels empty and it doesn’t get any easier knowing she will be gone for a while.

It’s been a particularly long and difficult day at the office due to a delicate case you are representing. You groan at the throbbing headache that was developing beneath your temples, normally when you get home Lizzie would press soft kisses to your head until it was better.

When you arrive home you open the door with your keys and lock it behind you again, you’ve always been paranoid about intruders. Once in the apartment you hang your coat up and dump the rest of your stuff in a heap next to the door and collapse onto the couch. You give yourself a few minutes to close your eyes as you wince, brows furrowed tight with pain, before pulling out your phone with a smile as you try to facetime Lizzie.

After a few rings the call fails and you furrow your brows and tilt your head quizzically as she normally picks up immediately on the first ring. You shrug, deciding to try again but as you do a text message from Lizzie pops up on your phone so you open it.

Lizzie:

Hey bubs! I’m really sorry but I have to film a scene just now, can we talk later? I love you x

Y/n:

Okay baby. I really miss you x

Lizzie:

Are you okay, my love?x

Y/n:

Yeah, today was just rough. Talk soon, love you too baby x

You sigh as tears start to form in your eyes, you take a deep breath and blow it out shakily trying to stop yourself from crying. It’s times like this you just need your love, you sigh and let your head drop into your hands. You decide to make yourself a meal to try and lift your spirits and decide on your family’s famous chilli recipe. You start the prep and open a can of chopped tomatoes and it sprays everywhere on your white work blouse. Your demeanor changes instantly and you slouch in defeat as you finish putting all the ingredients in one pot and letting it simmer. This day could not get any worse

You walk to your bedroom and decide to change into one of Lizzie’s sleeping tops and some sweats. You begrudgingly let a few tears fall down your cheeks and quickly wipe them away.

So lost in your own sad thoughts, you don’t hear the front door unlock or Lizzie calling out for you softly. Unbeknownst to you, Lizzie decided to come and visit you after her director took pity on her and let her come home for a week’s visit. Lizzie checks the chilli on the stove and turns it off before placing her bags on the floor and heading to the bedroom to seek you out.

You hear your bedroom door creak and whip around to see what it is and there you see her, Lizzie standing there smiling at you. “Hi bubs” she giggles at your mouth agape. “Hi baby” you breathe in disbelief and delight all at once. You note Lizzie’s seductive gaze as she undresses you with her now dark eyes instead of her usual radiant green. Seeing her in a blue shirt and jeans you realise how your mood instantly improves and you decide to recreate a scene you have been fantasising about since she left.

“Unbutton your blouse” you demand and Lizzie’s eyes dilate further in arousal as she knows what is about to happen next. Truth is she had also been fantasising about the next scene, what it would be, how it would occur and your touch. You can tell by glancing at Lizzie that she wants you and she wants you now.

“We don’t have time” she answers, looking you right in the eye. You gaze into her eyes, then move your gaze to her lips, down to her breasts and back up to her eyes as you bite down on your lip slightly. Lizzie looks at you with pure want and instantly starts to unbutton her shirt quickly letting it fall undone on her body.

You stride over to her and place your hand on the back of her neck and pull her firmly against your lips. You kiss her deeply as if it is the first time the two of you have kissed, similar to the movie, as she sighs deeply into your mouth. Your lips move against her’s, stilling briefly before nudging her mouth open wider with a brush of your top lip as her breaths become more laboured. You quickly insert your tongue into her mouth and she moans softly once your tongues meet as you hold her shirt open.

Lizzie groans as you move; you pull away abruptly and hungrily drag your lips to her collarbone and start biting down harshly on her skin, marking her, before soothing the bites over with your tongue. You lead your open mouthed kisses alternating between sucking and biting down on the swell of her breasts, hearing her moan at every kiss and bite. Lizzie tilts her head to the side allowing you greater access to her neck, making it easier for you to bite down on and soothe with your wet tongue. You nibble once more on the swell of Lizzie’s left breast as you hear her pants in your ear, only spurring you on and adding to the heat growing between your own legs. You move your bites to her neck this time biting her softer “am I hurting you?” you ask whilst smirking into her neck. “Yes” she gasps, breathing heavily into your ear as she moans sinfully.

Lizzie scrunches her eyes closed in pure pleasure as you attack the swell of her breasts once more “Don’t move” you say to which she replies Therese’s line in the scene “Don’t make a sound..keep quiet” she husks. You bring your mouth back up to meet her’s and you instantly allow her tongue access, your tongues roll over one another, as she brings her hand to caress the back of your neck. You turn the two of you around and set her down on the seat against the window just like the movie and you feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of someone seeing the two of you. You sink down onto your knees so you are level with her.

Lizzie pulls away, your lips chasing her, and glances out the window briefly before capturing you in a bruising kiss once again. Lizzie sucks in your bottom lip between her teeth and tugs at it harshly before letting it go as you push off her open shirt, allowing it to fall to the ground. You pull away for oxygen and move your kisses down her jawline onto her neck and up to the shell of her ear “been waiting to fuck you baby, no need to hide your moans. I want to hear that filthy mouth of yours, crying out my name as I watch the orgasm I gave you rip through you” you purr in her ear, letting your breath tickling her ear.

“Mhmm y/n please fuck me” she begs. You smirk against her skin as you pull back and reach your hands behind her back and unclasp her bra allowing her perky tits to break free of the restricting material. You whimper at the sight of her full breasts, oh god how you’ve missed her breasts, as your hands roam over them and down her sides. Once out of your lustful haze, you place soft kisses across both of her breasts before taking one of her hardened nipples in your mouth as you swirl your tongue around it. Lizzie groans as your teeth graze against her nipple before sucking on it whilst massaging the other breast.

As you get lost in Lizzie’s breasts your hands slide down her body as you caress and pinch slightly at her waist before unbuttoning her jeans. You pull away from her breasts as you tug down her jeans and panties in one go, completely exposing her dripping pussy to you. Lizzie bites down on her bottom lip in anticipation bucking into the air trying to find something to connect with to give her what she desperately needs. You take in your girlfriend’s needy appearance as her cheeks are flushed red, her hair messy with strands falling across her face, beads of sweat along her hairline as you take in her heaving chest as she whimpers for your touch. You then slide your hands up her legs until you reach her inner thighs where you nip her with your teeth as she bucks her hips up looking for the slightest touch.

You play around with her folds, coating your fingers, as you hear her breath hitch at the sudden touch where she needs you the most. “So wet baby. Is this all for me? Who makes you this wet baby?” you taunt. Lizzie’s gutteral moans get louder as she bucks her hips up against your fingers “oh god, you do y/n. O-only yo-u” she stutters as you start rubbing her clit in agonisingly slow circles. You place soft kisses to her stomach as she places her legs over your shoulders. Your kisses get lower as you start rubbing her clit faster “tell me what you want Lizzie” as you blow directly on to her swollen clit as her body jerks against the sensation. “I want your fingers bubs, then I want to ride that pretty little face of yours” she pleads and you smirk against her inner thigh getting turned on by your baby’s words.

After all, who were you to deny her.

You pinch her clit as you hear her moans slip past her lips as she squirms underneath you as the pain turns into pleasure. You smirk when you see Lizzie’s juices weeping out of her pussy and trail down her thighs. Deciding you have worked her up enough you thrust two fingers deep into her entrance as your thumb rubs over her clit. Lizzie’s hands tangle themselves in your hair, pulling slightly, as she brings you head up to her lips as your hands work at her core her moans and whimpers echoing through the whole bedroom loudly which you muffle with your own mouth. You break from the kiss and take her nipple in your mouth again, grazing it with your teeth as you curl your fingers so you hit Lizzie’s sweet spot.

Lizzie’s hips start bucking uncontrollably trying to chase her high, you hold her hips down with your free hand and add a third digit deep into her pussy and increase the speed of the thrusts, just the way she likes. You relish in the sounds she is making combined with the sinful squelching noises coming from her wet pussy. “Oh god Y/N, don’t stop please don’t stop” she mewls spurring you on. You feel her walls tighten against your digit as you curl them once more in a beckoning motion that hits her sweet spot as your thumb picks up speed in your circular motions against her clit.

“Cum for me baby” you demand huskily in her ear and with that Lizzie cums hard, coating your hand, as she jerks forward “Oh god, oh god. Y-Y/n” she cries out as you hold her legs to steady her and continue moving your fingers inside of her until she calms down. “That’s it baby, good girl. Such a good girl cumming all over my fingers like that” you coo as you remove your fingers and lick them clean before leaning into Lizzie’s lips. She cups your cheeks as the two of you share a slow and passionate kiss as she tastes herself on your tongue.

Lizzie pulls away and looks at you with her once again darkened irises. “Strip for me baby” she husks. You feel your own desire building. You stand up and slowly pull off your top letting Lizzie see your bare chest from not wearing a bra underneath. Lizzie runs her tongue across her lips in anticipation as she eyes your breasts. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter from her sultry gaze and from staring at those full lips. You continue undressing and pull your sweats down slowly before stepping out of them now only in your panties when you see Lizzie biting her bottom lip harshly, biting back a moan. Then finally you slip your lace panties down your legs feeling how soaked they are.

Lizzie snaps and stands up fast and strides over to you and pulls you against her lips in a crushing kiss. She swipes her tongue against your bottom lip and you grant her tongue access as your tongues roll over each other before she brings your tongue between her lips and sucks slowly. You moan at the sensation as she lets your tongue go and bites your bottom lip harshly, almost drawing blood. She pulls away from the kiss and leans her forehead against yours placing a soft kiss, quite a contrast from her earlier kisses, against your forehead sighing contentedly.

“God, I’ve missed you baby” she chuckles, slightly shaking her head in disbelief that she is in front of you right now. Lizzie attaches her lips to yours once more, moving her lips languidly as she moves you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. You crawl backwards further up the bed as Lizzie crawls towards you seductively, maintaining eye contact. She looks utterly ethereal as you see her breasts bounce at every movement towards you biting her lip in a way she knows drives you crazy.

Your head hits the soft pillows as Lizzie climbs up to meet you straddling your waist. You run your hands up her sides and massage her breasts, kneading them softly as she tilts her head back in satisfaction. Before you can lean up to kiss them, she places a hand on your chest and pushes you against the mattress. She splays her hands against your chest and moves them to your breasts, her fingers exploring every inch of them. She leans down and takes your nipple in her mouth slowly licking and sucking on it before moving her attention to your other nipple as her hands run down your stomach. Her tongue flicking over your hardened nipple.

Lizzie pulls away and attaches her lips to your neck as you tilt your head back further into the pillow allowing her easier access. She sucks your neck skin into her mouth and bites down as you moan at the sensation, she continues sucking and biting up your neck until she reaches your earlobe. She pulls your earlobe into her mouth between her teeth and gives it a tug, you arch your back pushing yourself against her naked body hoping to find any sort of friction. “You want me to touch you bubs? Want me to make you cum?” she taunts as her breath fans over your ear making you shiver. You nod your head desperately not trusting yourself to form any coherent words. “I will baby, but first I believe we agreed I get to ride that pretty little face of yours” she husks.

You feel Lizzie switch her position so that she is just straddling one of your thighs and starts to move against it. “Fuck Lizzie, you’re making such a mess all over my thigh” you groan tensing you thigh allowing Lizzie the friction she needs. You grip her hips helping her grind against your thigh before she kneels above you “Lie down baby, I want to fuck your face. Don’t let a single drop of my cum go to waste and maybe I’ll give you what you need”. You whimper as you lie down and glance at the juices she has left behind on your thigh.

Lizzie crawls up so she can hover over your head, straddling your face. You glance up and see how wet Lizzie is along with a glimpse of her breasts. Lizzie lowers herself onto your face as you feel her juices coat your mouth and nose. You moan against her core and Lizzie rubs her pussy against you in response. You hook your arms around Lizzie’s thighs and get to work licking and sucking at her pussy. Lizzie grabs on to your hair and tugs making you moan into her core sending vibrations against it.

It doesn’t take you long with your tongue in Lizzie’s entrance and Lizzie grinding against your face until Lizzie cums. “Fuck y/n, so good. I-I’m cumming” she moans as you feel her cum flood against your tongue and across your cheeks as you lap up every bit.

Lizzie climbs off of you and wastes no time in running her fingers through your now soaking folds. “So wet for me Y/n huh” “Yes, please make me cum Lizzie” you plead. Lizzie runs her fingers over your clit as she leans up to your lips “now now now, baby I just want to see how much you’ve really missed me. Don’t worry bubs you’ll get to cum but first I wanna have some of my own fun with you” she purrs as her lips ghost over yours.

You whine as you buck against her fingers exploring your folds. Without any warning Lizzie thrusts two fingers into your eager entrance as she attaches her mouth to your swollen clit. You let out a string of moans as your breaths start to become laboured, you feel your orgasm approaching, as you clench around her fingers, and just as you are about to cum Lizzie pulls away completely.

You thrust your hips upwards trying to chase her now absent fingers “Lizzie p-please, I need to come” you beg. “Soon baby, very soon” she replies as she thrusts her fingers back into your needy pussy feeling you pulsating against her fingers as you near yet another orgasm. However, just as before Lizzie pulls away despite the pleas and whimpers escaping your mouth. She continues edging you another three times until your arousal is dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets.

You groan and throw your head back in frustration when Lizzie removes herself off of you completely and disappears into the closet. Your chest heaves, you are covered in sweat and all you can focus on is how much you need to cum.

Then Lizzie comes back with her favourite strap and some lube. “Are you ready to take my cock baby? Ready for me to fuck that needy pussy of yours?” she taunts. “Yes Lizzie, oh god yes. Please fuck me, make me cum baby” you beg. Lizzie puts on the strap and settles between your legs as she applies some lube onto her cock to help you take it.

Lizzie rubs the tip of her cock against your clit and then moves it down to tease your entrance. You buck against her in a whimpering mess, tears pooling in your eyes from being denied for so long. Lizzie thrusts her length into your entrance roughly until she bottoms out “Oh god f-fuck Lizzie, feels so good” you stutter. Lizzie wastes no time and begins thrusting deep and hard into your pussy as you feel every inch of her cock. You let out a string of the most sinful moans as you keep yelling out her name.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip onto the sheets for anything to ground yourself as the headboard hits against the wall with the pure force of Lizzie’s thrusts. Lizzie continues fucking you hungrily as leans forward and starts biting and sucking your neck and collarbone. You feel Lizzie’s breasts move against yours as she is fully pressed into you as she thrusts, just adding to the incredible sensation.

Your legs start to quake as you feel your orgasm arriving fast “God I missed your whorish moans whilst I destroy your pussy with my cock bubs. I want you to cum all over my cock can you do that baby?” you nod “Ye-yes baby”. Lizzie rubs your swollen clit in fast circular motions whilst maintaining her deep and fast thrusts and soon enough your walls tighten against her cock. Your whole body trembles as you fall off the edge and a gush of liquid comes out of your pussy drenching Lizzie’s cock.

Lizzie pushes your hair back out of your face whilst placing soft kisses to your head as she gently pulls out, some of your juices squirting onto the sheets. You whimper at the loss.

Lizzie removes the strap and disappears, coming back with a wet towel to clean you up. She throws them to the side and climbs underneath the covers and pulls you into her chest to cuddle. You sigh in contentment as you feel Lizzie place soft kisses all over the crown of your head, forehead and temples.

“I’ve never been more glad to have you home Lizzie. I really needed you today” you let all of your emotions from your bad day along with your come down flood through you and sob into Lizzies neck.

“Shh, it’s okay bubs. I’m here you can tell me what's wrong” she coos tracing soft patterns on your skin to calm you down. She kisses your tears off your cheeks. You offload how bad your day has been, your headache and how much you’ve missed her.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. It’s okay, I love you and I’m here now. I never want you to hide how much you struggle with me away, okay? I know I find it hard but we need to support, love and be honest with each other on how we are feeling. Promise me from now on you’ll let me into your struggles because I am so in love with you Y/N L/N” she says as she cups your chin and brings you to look into her now green eyes.

You nod “I promise, I love you so much Elizabeth Chase Olsen” and you lean up to capture her lips in a soft chaste kiss. You spend the rest of your night cuddled up in bed sharing soft kisses and watching bad trash tv.

Taglist: @celestialcat44, @ineedafinghug, @srtamercurio, @musicinourlips, @andrea-stark

Let me know if you want to be tagged :)

#elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen x you #smut #wanda maximoff x reader #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen fanfic #elizabeth olsen smut

542 notes · View notes