#( and they were known to have the best parties )

[angelplummie]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS!

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2

this one is exposition and build up for the smut eventually! enjoy my princesses

tashi duncan stole from you.

in many ways, many times. the first was when she thrashed you in your very first college tennis tournament. you would always remember the sound she made, that war cry. it was like she had decapitated you or something. she stole victory from you that day.

then she did it again, and again, and again. every single time she played you, she beat you. you could annihilate everyone but her, crushed them all to dust. but she was the one person that would not be decimated. you didn’t speak off the court, didn’t look at each other twice in the halls of stanford. but she had this look on her face. this smug, knowing look. here to lose again? it said. and you weren’t some average joe shmoe tennis girl. you were really good. people that had no reason to bolster your ego had told you that, so you knew it to be true. you were fucking brilliant, and she had no right to look at you like you were dirt. you gave her a tough match, but still she looked at you like she knew she was going to win.

when asked about her, all you could say was “i hate that smug bitch.”

what she said about you you didn’t know, and not for lack of trying. you didn’t know if she even spoke of you at all. the thought made you angrier than when she beat you. once, when at the same party, she waved at you.“hi,” she said, and gave you that same i-just-beat-you look. she was taller than you, and craned her neck unnecessarily far to look at you. where did that stupid bitch get off?

she was this towering roadblock, the one thing stopping you from entering the upper echelons of tennis royalty. you had the fucking talent, you had put in the fucking time, you were so fucking good. but you weren’t stanfords sweetheart. you just weren’t. everyone knew you were good, but you weren’t the best.

from the matches you had watched, which was nearly all of them, you were the only person she played that gave her a run for her money. she didn’t sweat the way she did when she played you, the points were never so neck and neck. she should be threatened by you, and yet she looked at you like any other silly college floozy that was the best in her high school. tennis was your life, as much as it was hers. she stole your dignity in that way.

the next time she stole from you was patrick zweig. a sort of boyfriend, an in-between, getting there boyfriend. he could’ve been yours. you could’ve been happy together. but tashi duncan couldn’t have that.

you heard whispers about a night in a hotel room, a threesome, a twosome with a watcher, two guys jacking off on tashi duncan. they could deny, deny, deny, but whatever did or didn’t happen meant patrick zweig never returned your calls anymore. you could still recount the exact tonality and pacing of his answering machine message.

it was fine. it’s whatever. he wasn’t a forever boyfriend anyway.

but once a girl has sex with someone, she expects some degree of loyalty, some sort of goodbye. it wasn’t about him, he was cute, a good-not-great fuck, and never claimed to be serious about you. he didn’t matter. it was the fact she had him. together or not, she had him. he belonged to her. even after they broke up, everyone knew he never liked any of his other many girlfriends like he loved her. they used to walk around hand in hand, kiss, and it made you brim with jealousy. not because you gave any kind of fuck about him as a person, but because she got him instead of you. it was her. all her. she had stolen one more thing.

as time passed, your hatred burned just as bright. you practiced day in day out, hoping that somehow she could see you now, somehow she would know you were her equal.

then you met a boy. art donaldson.

you had known he was involved with her. the hotel threesome stories spared no details of the parties involved, despite factual discrepancies in other areas. but you figured, while she was dating his best friend, you were safe from the curse of tashi duncan. you allowed yourself to fall in love, softly, timidly. having met in american literature, you fostered a little spark. a love, barely the size of a candles flame, flickered in your chest. maybe, you had prayed. maybe him. maybe he was yours. you kissed at new years for the first time, and days later he met your parents. it was new, fresh, but it was love. you loved him.

and then she stole from you for the final time. in one foul swoop, she took everything from you.

it was the final of the college tournament. the two stanford angels playing each other for the victory. the court was red and packed, newly redone. you both wore white. whoever won this was guaranteed a shot at the open in the summer, and that was all you needed. you were so fucking ready. no one was better than you. no one. you had trained so hard, art could attest to it, hell, the entire school could attest to it. ask anyone who saw you around that time, they would’ve seen a scowl on your face and a racket on your back. those who had the pleasure of watching you play would’ve say it: you were fucking good.

that’s why it crushed you. across from her, at match point, advantage duncan, you watched as her knee moved independent from her leg. in between grunting and pelting, there was a crack, and tashi duncan was no more. a hush fell over the crowd as she cried, fell to the ground clutching her knee. you heard that. but you didn’t hear the ear splitting scream that came from your own mouth, couldn’t feel your body sprint, jump the net to crouch by her side. beads of perspiration rolled down her face, scrunched in agony. she bared her teeth like a cornered animal, and looked up at you through her squeezed eyes. her knee looked awful, so you stared at the rest of her. without thought you placed a hand on the top of her head. to comfort her you think.

it was so quiet. the only sound was her crying, her laboured breath stilling your heart to a lifeless thud.

“it’s ok,” you said,”you’re going to be ok, tashi.”

you remembered feeling an inexplicable sadness, a grief that you had never known before. you wanted to get rid of her pain, any and all of it. none of it came from you, you didn’t want her to have it. but that was so quickly forgotten. because as you moved to touch her shoulder with your shaking hand, it was eclipsed by another. a larger hand, the hand of a man. a pale hand. a hand you had touched before, even kissed. the hand of your man.

your eyes met, each with equal fear, horror and sadness. it was then that you knew that the curse of tashi duncan wouldn’t rest until you died. she would steal and steal and steal, even beyond the grave. he looked caught, because he was. he was caught. once you loved tashi you never stopped. he had raced into the court because she had fallen at a game he attended to watch you play, had touched her shoulder with the hand that had held you. he was not yours, as much as you needed him to be. his eyes twinkled with regret, but told you everything you needed to know.

your hand drew away with a flick, like it had given you an electric shock. you rose from tashis tortured body. his hand slipped to where yours had rested. this was all somehow not her fault, while being her fault entirely. you hated her so much it made your heart bleed. you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. no whisper of her name, no nothing. from this moment on she was dead to you.

you didn’t bother looking over your shoulder to see if art was watching you leave. he wasn’t. the umpire boomed something through a mega phone, something like wait. but you were going home.

in the hall you bumped shoulders with patrick zweig. he was rushing to find her. he looked at you once to apologise hurriedly, twice to utter your name in recognition, and a third time to look at your back and wonder why you were so down. tashi was out. you won by default.

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[mountttmase]

If I Lost You

Note - this fic was such a struggle for me but we’re here and we made it 😂 I know I haven’t uploaded in a really long time by my standards so I’d love to know what you guys think and also thank you to my besties for your help on this one, I couldn’t have done it without you 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 7k

Warnings - angst and fluff

There was nothing Mason hated more than traffic. Traffic coupled with a later than usual training session was even worse

He’d been sat pretty much stationary for around 20 minutes now, slowly moving every couple of minutes but he hadn’t made it far. Eventually turning his playlist over to the radio so he could listen out for traffic updates but the flashing blue lights up ahead let him know what was happening.

He was right in the thick of it, no option to turn around and go another way, but not close enough to the front to be able to get around it yet and when a few more police cars came up to join the scene he realised it must have been a bad crash.

So he did the only thing he could do and waited. His mind wandering off to far away places that he tried not to visit too often and once he realised he was starting to spiral he quickly switched the radio back over to his playlist so he could distract himself.

It was only around 15 minutes later he’s made it to the front of the line, watching the traffic warden wave a few cars forward at a time to drive into the oncoming lane to get round and soon enough it was his turn.

He knew he shouldn’t have, but there was something making him want to look at the scene as he drove by. Head turning to the left of him to see how bad it was and the sight before him shocked him to the core.

The car was on its side, bonet crushed from hitting a lamppost and he could tell the windows had been broken to get whoever was inside free but after a few seconds the realisation that something was wrong slapped him in the face.

He knew that car. It was yours.

It was the colour that alerted him first. That specific shade of light blue he’d only ever known you to have but as he looked closer he could tell it was the same make and model as yours too. The panic rising up his chest until he thought he might have been sick but the sound of beeping horns shocked him out of his trance.

He couldn’t sit and wait and let himself process anything, the traffic officer waving him forward but it was like he was having an out of body experience. He wanted to get out and find you, the urge to scream your name was on the tip of his tongue but he did as he was told and drove forward, leaving the scene of the crime behind him but he felt too weird to carry on too much longer and pulled into a side street so he could park up and sort himself out.

There wasn’t much he could do, you hadn’t spoken in months and the only other person the pair of you had in common would no doubt tear him a new one if he called asking after you and he also didn’t want to worry everyone if it was nothing. He still needed to do something though and In the end he decided to text you in hopes you’d get back to him soon and settle his mind. You always had your phone in your hand so he knew this was the easiest way to grab your attention and hopefully speak to you.

The rest of the drive home, albeit short, was a nightmare. He couldn’t concentrate on anything and was constantly messing up but he made it back in one piece. Running inside so he could turn the news on immediately, hoping for any sign of what had happened whilst he sat and panicked. Not being able to think about anything other than knowing you were okay.

This was hell, and he hated it. But the way he was feeling for you right now was mostly his own doing.

You’d met Mason a few years ago at the after party for the final of their euros. Your best friend's brother was Rashy and she’d invited you along to watch the final, and although it had ended in heartbreak there was a certain brown eyed boy you and the rest of the world couldn't seem to tear their eyes away from.

You knew it was over for you when he came over to console Marcus, seeing how genuinely kind and concerned he was for his friend made your heart thump and when the pair of you were finally introduced you didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered over you.

He couldn’t stick around too long, needing to get back to his family but you caught eyes a few times throughout the night and when you were at the bar alone he used that as his in to come and speak to you properly.

It was his smile that caught you first, but it was hard not to notice his big brown eyes and musical laugh. In the end standing and chatting until the night was pretty much over and you had to go your separate ways but he gave you his number and made you promise to message him as soon as possible.

You didn’t know what you were expecting from Mason, but what you got was a blossoming friendship and you were more than thankful he was in your life. With you living in Manchester and him in London it was hard to see each other, Mason constantly referring to you as pen pals but you took what you could with him. Going to watch him play at Wembley sometimes and seeing him in the summer or whenever he has some free time for a few days gave you something to look forward to and you loved getting to know him on a deeper level.

It was very much a will they won’t they type of relationship. As much as you adored Mason, you didn’t want things to change and you knew long distance would be hard until just over a year had passed and you decided to take the plunge. The pair of you in Greece with a big group of the other boys and their girlfriends and Mason confessed he hated the thought of maybe seeing you with someone else and was willing to put the work in for you if that’s what you wanted.

And you really did.

Being Mason's girlfriend was everything you thought it could be and more. He was still his cute charming self but you felt free being able to be with him in the way you’d secretly always wanted. Your first kiss being a little awkward but he kept you relaxed and let you go at your own pace. Kissing all over your face until you were ready to try again and now it seemed as if you couldn't get enough of him.

It did come with its own set of challenges though. Being away from each other a lot of the time took its toll and even though when you were together you always made it count, the goodbyes were getting harder and Mason couldn’t stand to see you cry everytime he had to leave again. Or your sad face on FaceTime when you spoke in the evenings when you were apart, wishing he could reach out and touch you but he was never able to give you the comfort he so desperately wanted to.

It was around March of 2023 when it all came crashing down. Mason had a lot on his plate with an injury that wouldn’t go away and Chelsea’s new owners not treating him the way he should have been. You could tell he was more down than usual and planned a trip to go stay with him for a week so he’d have someone to come home to and someone to cuddle after a long day but at first you felt like he didn’t want you there at all.

You still remember the night before he ended it all. It’s like he was back to your Mason for a bit as you made dinner and spoke on the sofa until the early hours until you went up to bed. It was like he held you extra tight that night and whilst you figured it was just because he’d missed you and he’d had a nice night you now wondered if there was more behind it. Maybe thinking he should hold you properly if it was the last time and then out of the blue, he turned your world upside down the next morning.

He tried to give you the usual spiel of it’s not you it’s me and you were about to cuss him out for being so ridiculous but one look at him and you could see how much he was struggling. Telling you he hated that he couldn’t give you what you needed at that it broke him seeing you so down when he already had so much on his plate. You knew he needed to lighten his load, you just hated that it was you that would be cut off.

You didn’t argue with him, it being clear that he couldn’t take it but you spent the rest of your day packing up your stuff into the early evening where he made you stay for one more night so you weren’t driving home in the dark.

You felt stupid, making sure he was okay even though you felt like you were dying inside but you loved Mason and even though this was hurting you more than you could possibly imagine, you kept on a brave face for him. Telling him you’d still be there if he needed you and not to hesitate calling if he needed someone to talk to.

Sleeping in the guest room that night hurt more than anything he’d said to you over the last 24 hours but you remember him coming into your room at around two am as your cries had kept him awake. Holding you and shushing you in hopes you’d get some sleep but it didn’t work and all you wanted was to go back in time and undo everything he’d said but you couldn’t. So you stayed awake and tried to remember what it felt like to hold him, what he smelt like and how his skin felt pressed up against yours.

‘Can we make a deal?’ He whispered all of a sudden and you nodded into his neck in hopes he’d feel it, knowing your voice wouldn’t hold up if you tried to speak. ‘I want you to live your life and forget about me, yeah? Like if you meet someone new I want you to go for it. But in five years time, if we’re both single, do you think we could try again?’

‘I’ll see’ you whispered, knowing he wasn’t happy with that answer by the way he kissed your hairline softly but he let it go. Knowing he didn’t have a leg to stand on after what he was putting you through.

You left the next morning early, him giving you an emotional goodbye on his doorstep but you were ready to go home and be on your own now. Mason asking if you could still be friends and if he could text you and you stupidly agreed before getting away as fast as you could but you only made it one street away before you had to stop for a big cry. Wanting to get it all out before you began your drive home and after 15 minutes you set off again. Your phone going off every so often but you ignored it until you were back in the comfort of your flat and when you saw they were all from Mason you felt sadder than you expected to.

You were curious as to what he’d deleted but you didn’t have the energy to ask so you sent him a quick reply telling him you were fine and going to sleep before taking yourself straight to bed. Too tired to be upset or over think anything and when you woke up the next morning things still hurt but you’d resigned to your fate of being his friend again.

A friend.

So you spoke here and there for a while and even though you were broken it was a fairly easy split. You remained civil and on good terms and it broke you to see how unfairly he was being treated on the field and with his whole contract saga. He kept going though like the Mason you knew and loved but when the news hit he’d had surgery it felt like your world had tumbled upside down.

You felt useless, wanting to help him as much as you could but he was so far away and you’d already used up all your holiday so you did your usual and let him phone you when he needed a chat.

Not too long after his surgery everything seemed to fizzle out. Nothing happened as such but your texts and calls came few and far between until there was nothing and when the news broke he was moving to Manchester you felt too awkward to text him. Not wanting to give the wrong impression that you expected something from him now so you left it so he could come to you.

He never did though.

You weren’t sure why he didn’t, but Mason had his own reasons. Not wanting to drag you back into the mess of his life and the fact you’d stopped messaging him made him think you were done with him and he didn’t have the heart to face your rejection no matter how much you were on his mind.

So he moved to Manchester and didn’t reach out, even though he thought about it everyday, and tried to rebuild his life without you. He was doing well but you were always there in the back of his mind, even thinking he’d seen you a few times and his tummy jumped each time before he realised it wasn’t you. He’d wanted to message you more than anything but he didn’t have the guts, even though you’d both promised to stay friends the messages had become so few and far between and now there was nothing.

As soon as Mason was inside he ran to the living room to put the news on, pausing the TV as soon as it showed the aftermath of the accident so he could get a better look before playing again to where it was panning past what he thought was your car. He managed to stop it at a point to be able to examine it more carefully and he could feel the nerves rippling through him.

Same colour, same make and model, same sticker on the back window with where the car came from, different number plate…

Different number plate.

Mason let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t you. Someone was clearly hurt and that wasn’t good but he couldn’t deny he felt lighter at the fact it wasn’t you who was in harm's way. Falling back into the cushions of his sofa so he could take a few breaths to steady himself.

You were okay.

He felt a little silly now, panicking so much when you were clearly fine but as the minutes wore on he managed to talk himself back into a frazzled state.

He didn’t know what it was, not being able to settle and focus on anything but you. Now you were back on his mind, all he could see was your pretty eyes and perfect smile.

He knew nothing about you anymore. The only piece of information left being the address of your old flat and now he was getting to know the area he knew you weren’t too far away. But he didn’t know if you were there anymore and if he did turn up whatever the chances you would even want to see him?

What if you’d moved on? Surely Rashy would have told him but Mason couldn't stand the thought of turning up at your house and a random guy being there. No doubt he’d be taller than him and funnier and be able to make all the time in the world for you and the thought of seeing you with someone who’s everything Mason isn’t made him miserable.

It was like there was an itch in his brain that he couldn’t scratch, not able to settle as his mind came out with random questions to make him doubt what he already knew. He decided against messaging Rashy, presuming he wouldn’t have much of an idea either and he didn’t want to start worrying everyone unnecessarily if there really was nothing wrong.

Maybe he read it wrong and it was your number plate? Or maybe you’d changed your number plate and it was you all along? Why hadn’t you answered his texts yet either? Was there an innocent explanation or had he missed something and it really was you that was hurt?

The only thing he did know was that he couldn’t stay in and drive himself insane. Eventually coming to the conclusion that a run would clear his head so he quickly changed into some shorts and a hoodie before setting off. No particular place or destination in mind, just the need to let off some steam and clear his mind.

When the rain started to fall he cursed under his breath. Too far away from home to turn around and avoid it and also not done with his run as he was still feeling on edge so he grit his teeth and carried on. Weaving in and out of streets until he started to recognise where he was a bit more.

Maybe it was just a coincidence he ended up here, like in the back of his mind this is where he needed to end up to finally put his mind at rest but as he stopped to get his breath just outside of your building he only felt worse.

Your car which you always parked in the same spot was nowhere to be seen, and the flat he knew to be yours had all of the lights off but the curtains were open. Like you’d been out and not made it home yet to shut them and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought.

‘No no no no no’ he whispered under his breath, not understanding where your car was and it seemed like only the worst possible outcome was the right one.

He knew it was a bad decision to come here but he’d done it anyway and now his mind was spiralling more than he thought possible.

He thought about going home but the need to see that you were fine with his own two eyes outweighed everything else and before he knew it he was running up the path and standing outside your front door with his hand poised to knock.

What am I supposed to say? He thought. I thought you were dead so I came to check you were alright? No, he couldn’t but he knocked before he had a chance to think of anything else. Waiting anxiously as he heard a few noises from behind the door but if you were there then you were taking forever to answer.

As soon as you opened the door he felt his body flood with relief. Your hair was pointing up in all different directions and he could clearly see the pillow marks on your cheek. A shocked and confused expression painted your features as you realised who was standing in front of you but he just felt his heart swell before his face crumpled as he tried to hold the tears back.

‘Mase? Mase what’s wrong?’ You asked, reaching forward to touch him in some way but you second guessed yourself before you got there. Not knowing if he wanted you to touch him but he looked distraught so you pushed your thoughts to the side and pulled him into the doorway. ‘Mase, you’re soaked. Come inside, it’s okay’

‘I’m sorry’ he told you, his voice wobbling as you shut the door and the feeling of warmth engulfed him immediately. He felt self here.

This feels like home, he thought. The place was unchanged from when he was last here and he stood awkwardly in the hall as you shut the door before leading him into the living room just around the corner.

‘Sorry, you've caught me at a bit of a bad time’ you laughed as you tidied the blankets off of the sofa and reset the cushions so you both had a place to sit. Flustered that he’d turned up so randomly and in the back of your mind you wondered if it might have happened one day but you chalked it off as being a silly daydream in the end.

‘Danger nap?’ He asked and you felt your face flush at the way he’d caught on so quickly. ‘Don’t worry, I remember them well’

‘Well I’ve been having them a bit more frequently since I’ve got no one to tell me off anymore’ you joked but you saw his face drop ever so slightly. ‘Take a seat, you want a drink or anything?’

‘I’m fine, thanks’

‘You sure? I’ll get you a tea you look like you need warming up’ you told him softly before scurrying over to the kitchen and he felt his chest warm with how kind you were to him. Hearing the kettle flick down before you came back to close the curtains and then run over to the cupboard under the stairs. ‘Take your hoodie off Mase, you’ll catch a chill. I’ve got you a towel and I’ll turn the heating up’

‘Sorry, this is probably the last thing you needed tonight’ he sighed, grabbing the towel to run over his hair once he’d taken his hoodie off but the shoulders of his top were still wet and now he was sitting here waiting for you he felt silly.

‘No don’t worry about that, I know we haven’t spoken for a while but I always said I’m here if you need me’ you told him shyly. Sitting down next to him so you could place his tea on the table before sending him a reassuring smile

‘I know’ he huffed. ‘I just feel a bit dramatic now that’s all’ he told you, trying to laugh it off but you knew him and you knew something was on his mind.

‘What’s going on? Why are you here?’ You pushed gently, trying to get him to open up a little bit more and when his eyes fell to his lap you weren’t sure if he was about to tell you or not. Thankfully he did after a few moments but you weren’t prepared for the words that were about to tumble from his lips.

‘There’s um… well there’s been this big accident on the main road out of Manchester. It’s all over the news and I was stuck in traffic for like 45 minutes until I could get round it’ he told you but you were unsure as to why he was updating you on the traffic when you’d asked what he was so upset about.

‘Okay?’

‘The car that crashed… well I thought it was yours’ he told you, his voice wobbling at the end and you felt your heart shatter as you realised what was wrong now. ‘It’s the same colour and make and everything and I… well I was out of my mind worrying that… i don’t know that you were hurt or something-‘

‘Oh Mase’ you breathed, cutting him off as his voice got more and more emotional and all you wanted was to pull him into a hug but you weren’t sure if that was what he wanted. In the end you just reached for his hand and you were surprised at how tightly he gripped onto you.

‘Sorry I bet I sound insane’ he laughed, wiping his eyes with his free hand and you felt your heart break for him.

‘No no it’s okay’ you reassured him, placing your other around your already clasped ones. Hoping he’d keep on talking but you let him take his time as he was clearly overwhelmed and upset by everything that had happened tonight.

‘It was on the news and I saw it wasn’t your number plate so I thought you were fine but then i managed to talk myself out of thinking that and I tried to text you, but i didn’t hear anything back but I guess you were asleep’ he smiled, squeezing your hand gently and you smiled sadly back at him.

‘I never got a text from you, I don’t think I did anyway’ you told him. ‘I was only asleep for like ten minutes. I did see some texts but it was a number I didn’t recognise and I thought it was a scam thing so I didn’t bother looking properly cause the number wasn’t saved’

‘A scam?’

‘Yeah I keep getting those texts like Evri has your parcel but it’s damaged and the details are lost. Please send your address, bank details and blood type so we can attempt a redelivery’ you joked and you felt your tummy flip when he let out a little laugh.

‘No it’s my fault, my personal number got leaked a little while back and when I moved up here I thought it would be a good idea to get a new number. I texted most people but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me so I just kept your number in my contacts. I completely forgot you wouldn’t have it saved’

‘You know that makes a lot of sense actually’ you smiled, watching his eyebrows pinch together in confusion and you thought his expression was adorable. ‘I sort of texted you last week. You know, after your goal? I didn’t hear back from you’

‘Shit, I’m so sorry’ he sighed, his free hand dragging down his face and you could tell he was annoyed with himself as he rolled his eyes.

‘No it’s alright-‘

‘No cause you probably thought I was ignoring you and I wasn’t’ he told you, almost pleading with you to make you believe him but you already did and when you sent him a soft smile he let out a big sigh he’d been holding in. ‘Where’s your car? It's not parked out the front?’

‘Chrissy upstairs moved out and I was next on the list for a spot in the underground car park so I park it down there now’ you explained, releasing how shaken he must have been and still was to know you might have been hurt and when one of your hands let go to touch his shoulder, his eyes snapped up to yours. ‘Are you alright, mase?’

‘No’ he whispered quietly, his glossy eyes looking back down to his lap and as much as you wanted to push him you also didn’t want to scare him off so you sat waited for him to come clean and tell you what was going on in his head. ‘I know it’s stupid but like… I realised if I lost you then… well it felt like my world was ending in all honesty’ he confessed, laughing slightly but you could tell there was no humour in it l. ‘I know that’s dramatic but all I could think about was everything I’d never told you, all the things I’d never be able to say to you again, you know? Never be able to hold you or kiss you…’

‘Kiss me?’ You whispered. Unsure as to why he’d said that at the end as you’d been broken up for almost a year now but you couldn’t deny his confession made your heart jump. If truth be told it hurt more than you thought it would when he didn’t reply to you a week ago and seeing him so heartbroken on your doorsteps just now was a shock. But the words falling from his lips right now were even more of a shock.

‘Sorry’ he mumbled, his voice thick with tears as he shook his head but you didn’t want him to shut down on you now. You wanted him to keep talking, to see if he’d say the things you’d been waiting a year for him to admit so you carried on stroking his skin and letting him get himself together.

‘No no it’s okay, I just wasn’t expecting it’ you laughed, looking up at him to thankfully looking back at you with a small smile on his face. ‘Now’s your chance Mase, what do you wanna tell me’ you whispered, wondering if he’d say anything at all but ever the unexpected he said the last thing you thought he would.

‘I love you’ he whispered instantly. The words sending a tingle down your spine and you almost lost your breath. ‘I’m still so fucking in love with you and the though of you not being around anymore hurt more than I could tell you. Not that I’ve tried, but I can’t love anyone else like I loved you. Like I still love you, y/n’

‘Mase-‘

‘I know it’s been a while and you won’t feel the same but-‘

‘Mase stop’ you whispered, your eyes stinging at the thought of what he might be doing but the sincerity in his eyes kept a spark of hope alive. ‘Are you sure? I think you’re in shock a bit, you may want this now but what about in a month's time? Or two? I can’t go through feeling like that again’

‘I’m sure, i promise’ he nodded, dropping his eyes to his lap before taking a deep breath and you knew he had more to say. ‘I know we said if we were both single in five years we’d come back to each other but that’s too far away for me and I don’t wanna give anyone else the opportunity to have you. People like us, we’re meant to meet in a few years time when we both know who we are and what we want for ourselves but I don’t wanna do that. I want us to work through it all and grow together, you know?’

‘Mase-’

‘I pushed you away when I should have held onto you tighter. I think about you… all the fucking time and I can’t be without you’ he sniffled. ‘I know it’s incredibly selfish of me but I don’t want you to be just a chapter in my life when you’re the whole damn book baby’

You couldn’t help but laugh at his last line, your chuckles seeming to break the tension a little bit as he smiled at you and you could feel your heart in your throat at all the sweet words he’d spilled to you tonight.

‘Sorry I know it’s a lot but I just needed you to know’

‘Well thank you, and you know I care about you so much Mase-‘

‘Oh’ he sighed, trying to remove his hand from yours as you hadn’t told you him loved him back and he felt a bit embarrassed but that wasn’t your intention.

‘No Mase, wait I just… look it’s a lot to think about’ you laughed, squeezing his hand tighter so he couldn’t move away. ‘Just give me some time to take it in, yeah?’

‘Sorry’

‘No please don’t be sorry’ you told him before a quietness settled over you for a moment. Not really sure what you were wanting to say and knowing Mason had said enough for a lifetime tonight so you went back to what you thought you did best. Looking after him. ‘Listen, have you eaten? I’ve got a pasta bake to put in the oven and you know I always cook for about five people’

‘I haven’t eaten’ he laughed ‘Too busy worrying that you'd been flattened’ he joked, rolling his eyes and you couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh at his attempt at humour.

‘Well let me make us something to eat, And we can hang out a bit and catch up, yeah?’ You asked hopefully and thankfully he nodded in agreement.

So you made the pair of you some dinner before getting settled on the sofa. Keeping the tv volume on minimum so you could talk and it was like having the Mason you fell for back with you. But your heart broke even further when he explained to you how hard the last year had been for him, from being sold to the constant injuries and feeling pretty lonely up here some nights when it was just him and his family and friends had to go home.

Soon enough your plates had been discarded to the coffee table as it was your turn to open up. Not that you had as much to say but he was interested all the same in hearing about your life and getting up to date with all the people you used to talk about together. Updating him on your job and all the changes that had been made before he commented on how even with all the changes your flat was still the same and it made him feel happy.

‘Hey Mase?’ You asked quietly when you saw him try to suppress a yawn and you knew he’d realised you’d seen when the bridge of his nose turned red like you used to love.

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you wanna stay here tonight?’ You asked, his eyebrows shooting up in shock as he clearly hadn’t expected you to ask anything like that but now you had him back here you didn’t want to let him go.

‘W-what?’ He mumbled, scratching the back of his head like he did whenever he got nervous but you send him a reassuring smile in hopes that would help.

‘I mean you don’t have to, but it’s late now and I won’t be having you walking home or paying for an Uber. Unless you want me to drive you home-‘

‘No you can’t drive me, I don’t want you driving back on your own’ he argued back but you were both smiling so you let out a little laugh before being a bit firmer with him.

‘So you’ll stay then? And I’ll drop you home on my way to work?’

‘I think that could work’ he nodded but you knew he was shy about it even though he had no need to be.

‘Okay perfect’

‘Do you still keep that blanket in the cupboard?’ He asked and you felt a wave of disappointment flood you.

‘Oh I um…’ you trailed off, realising he’d got the wrong end of the stick and you knew you needed to set him straight no matter how awkward it might get.

‘What’s up?’

‘Well I thought you might want to sleep in my bed? You know like… with me?’ You explained, his face a mask of shock as the words left your lips but you knew you needed to put the idea out there.

‘Oh’

‘Sorry I’m being silly’

‘No I want to, I just didn’t wanna push it you know? I wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted’

‘I do’ you smiled. Holding your hand out for him to take and you felt your heart give a squeeze and he gently took it in his. ‘And I think it might be what you need’

‘I think so too,’ he laughed. A shy look on his face as you walked him through and into your bedroom and once you were inside you sent him a reassuring smile. ‘Get in, I’m just gonna use the bathroom and I’ll be with you’

You left him to sort himself out, quickly applying your skincare and trying to keep calm before returning to your room. Seeing Mason was already in bed and that he was still in his T-shirt but he’d stripped down to his boxers on the bottom half and you caught a cheeky flash of his thighs as you lifted the covers up.

You knew what you wanted, and what he probably wanted too so when you got yourself under the covers you turned away from him as you shuffled up close. Your back against his chest before taking his arm so you could wrap it around your body and you could tell from how stiff he was that he wasn’t expecting it but it only took a second for him to settle down and nuzzle into your neck.

‘I don’t think I need to wait until the morning’ you suddenly heard him whisper after a few moments and you felt your heart begin to pound. ‘I never ended things with you because I didn’t like you or I didn’t see us going anywhere. It was more that I didn't like myself. You’ve been the right person for me this whole time and I knew it long before we were friends, like it had always been my plan to make you mine and then when I finally got you I let you go’

‘Well you know what they say, Mase’ you whispered, holding him to you tighter and you felt him lightly kiss your shoulder. ‘If you love something you should set it free. And if it’s yours it’ll come back’

‘Will you come back to me then?’ He asked, his voice sounding more vulnerable than he intended it to. ‘Cause I’ll always come back to you’

‘I think we can work something out’ you whispered and you felt him stiffen before moving back so he could roll you over to face him. His eyes wide and glossy as he looked at you and you could tell you’d taken him by surprise.

‘Really? You’d wanna try again?’ He asked. Lip wobbling and it all became too much for him so you reached out to stroke his cheek and catch a few of the stray tears.

‘It just wasn’t our time back then, Mase. I get that now and yeah it sucked but if it’s really what you want then it’s what I’ve wanted since things ended’ you told him softly. Kissing the end of his nose as he shut his eyes softly. ‘I’ve been yours from the second you looked at me’

‘I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want this, or if you were seeing someone else’

‘Well lucky for you, you don’t have to worry about any of that’ you told him and you didn’t miss the look of relief on his face. ‘Things will be easier now we're closer okay? We can see each other more and all the things that drove us apart won’t be a problem’

‘You really think it’ll be that simple?’ He whispered, the hope in his eyes made you want to reassure him even further.

‘I think so, yeah. You said earlier you still loved me right?’

‘I did’ he laughed, not meeting your eyes as he blushed and you thought he was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

‘I still love you too’ you whispered, so quietly you thought he might now have heard you but from his reaction you knew he did. Letting out a shuddery breath before he hid his face. Giving you room to kiss all over his cheek until he had the courage to look at you again. ‘Shall we go to sleep?’ You offered, noticing how exhausted he was after a long evening and once he’d nodded you turned back onto your side and let him hold you close. Smiling at the way he was kissing your shoulder softly and nuzzled into your neck.

‘Hey Mase? Can I ask you something before we go to sleep?’

‘Anything’ he whispered, and the sound of his voice made your heart jump. Knowing he really would answer absolutely answer anything you asked him and this was something that had been plaguing your mind for a year.

‘That day I left to come home and you texted me the whole way, what did the message say that you deleted?’

You felt him let out a small chuckle, squeezing you a little before huffing and you knew it was something he probably never wanted to admit. You didn’t want to push him if that was the case but after a moment you felt his lips on your shoulder again as he began to speak.

‘It said, I think I’ve made a mistake. Can you come back and we’ll talk’ he told you quietly and you felt your heart pound at his confession. ‘I gave it ten minutes and said to myself if you hadn’t replied in that time then it wasn’t meant to be’

‘Mase’ you whispered, your eyes full of tears as a wave of regret from not checking your phone washed over you but he was quick to reassure you everything was fine.

‘It's okay, I’m glad you missed it’ he laughed. ‘It would have only made things worse probably. I needed that time to go through whatever was going on and realise how much I actually need you. Cause I really do’

‘I’m here’ you mumbled, turning you head to look at him and his whole face lit up as he looked down at you.

‘So am I. And I’m never going anywhere again okay?’

‘Me too’ you told him firmly before he finally lent down and placed the softest kiss to your lips. A feeling you’d waited almost a year for and when he pulled back to look at you, you almost felt disappointed but you could tell he was greedy for seconds. Diving right back in but with a bit more force this time and you let him do as he wished thankful the universe had brought him back to you.

#mason mount #mason mount blurb #mason mount one shot #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount angst #mason mount scenarios #mason mount drabble #mason mount story #mason mount fic #mason mount fan fiction #mason mount fan fic #mason mount x reader #mason mount x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer fan fiction #footballer fanfic

[norr1ssturni0lo]

meet my girlfriend

Matt sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2,294

warnings: couple spelling mistakes, a couple swear words, lots of fluff (a bit cheesy😅), italics = flashbacks

summary: Matt and childhood friend Y/N announce their relationship on his personal channel.

A/N: Matt is 18 in this fic and reader is 17 as said in fic!

❗️semi proof read❗️

Matt sets up the camera on the dashboard, his best friend of 12 years and girlfriend of 2 years in the car seat next to him. Matt hears Y/N let out a sigh, he looked to his side and saw Y/N looking nervous. 

“It’ll be fine my love. The fans already love you, announcing that you're my girlfriend won’t change that, I promise.” Matt says, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a comforting manner. “We don’t have to tell the fans if you don’t want to darling. It’s completely up to you.” He added on as he lifts her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

“No, I want to do it. Just some silly nerves that’s all.” She replied, intertwining their hands and smiling at Matt. 

“You ready?” He asks. 

“Yeah, press record.” 

Matt hits record and started to talk to the camera, his hand still intertwined with Y/N’s. 

“Hey guys, welcome to my personal channel, where I will be posting content without Nick and Chris. I won’t post as often on here, but I will try my best.” Matt starts with a little laugh before continuing.  

“For my first video on this channel, as you could probably guess by the title, I’m going to introduce you to my girlfriend, she’s a girl that many of you will be familiar with and if not then she’s about to introduce herself.” He added on, Matt gestures for Y/N to introduce herself, she gives a little wave and smile to the camera. 

“Hi everyone, most of you already know me but for those of you who don’t, hi, my name is Y/N and as Matt said, I am his girlfriend. I’m 17 years old, unfortunately I’m still in high school unlike Matthew here” she points to Matt and he lets out a little laugh at her dislike for high school before she carried on introducing herself.

“I just started my senior year, and like the triplets, I am from originally from Boston and I have known the triplets since I was in second grade and they were in third grade I think, is that right?” She looked over to Matt for confirmation to which he nodded. 

“Yep. She’s been in our lives since we were 8 and she was 7. She’s known us longer than Trevor!” He jokes, the couple chuckled together at his random fact. 

“Anyway, today, in honour of announcing our relationship, we’ve decided to answer some questions. I posted a question box on my Instagram story and we’re just going to scroll through and answer some of them.” Matt states. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up Instagram and clicked on his story to see the questions. He read out the first question. 

“Okay, first question is ‘how did you guys meet?’ you wanna answer it Y/N/N?” she nodded before answering.  

“So, I actually met Nick first out of the triplets, mine and Nick’s science classes got merged one day because my teacher was sick and me and Nick got paired for a project together. Me and Nick became friends and one day he invited me to his house after school, and that’s how I met Matt and Chris, and we were all inseparable ever since. I constantly got them mixed up until they were about 14.” she replies, Matt and Y/N both smiling at the memory of how many times she got the triplets mixed up. Matt handed his phone to Y/N to read out the next question. 

“Okay next question is ‘who made the first move?’ Matt surprisingly, made the first move, I’ll let him tell the story of how it happened.”  

“So, it’s a pretty cliche story, but we were at a party for our high school’s sports teams and cheerleaders which we both had to be at since she’s a cheerleader and I was on the lacrosse team. Me, Chris, Nick, Y/N and a few other people were playing spin the bottle and it was my turn to spin and it landed on Y/N. At this point I’d had a crush on Y/N since we were in middle school, but I just never ‘had the balls to do anything about it’ as Chris would always say to me.” He rolls his eyes, remembering all the times Chris had tried to get Matt to tell Y/N how he felt. He carried on telling the story.

“So obviously, me and Y/N kissed and then the day after at school, I left a note in her locker asking her out on a date, obviously, she said yes to the date and low and behold, 2 years later, here we are. Pretty cheesy but, hey, what can you do about a man in love?” He shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk on his face. 

“Fun fact, I still have the note to this day.” Y/N stated proudly, looking at the camera. Matt looked over at her shocked. 

“You do?” He asked, looking at his girl in pure adoration. She looked at Matt and nodded her head, smiling at him. She handed him his phone back so he could read the next question. 

“Okay, next question ‘what are you lockscreens on your phones? and what is the story behind them if there is one’”  

Y/N pulled out her own phone and Matt locked his so that he was ready to show his lockscreen. She turned her phone around and showed her lockscreen. (a/n: pretend it’s Matt😭)

“Mine is a picture of Matt from a couple weeks ago. Me and the triplets went to the safari park, and I got this picture of Matt looking at the map and trying to figure out where one of the rides were and thought it was cute.” she smiled at her lockscreen before turning off her phone. 

*flashback to safari park* 

Y/N giggled as Matt looked at the map in his hands, confusion evident on his face. The four of them were stood in the middle of the path, Matt trying to figure out how to get to the log flume. 

“Matt c’mon mannnn” Chris complained. Nick rolled his eyes at his younger brother.  

“Baby, do you need help?” Y/N asked. Matt shook his head. 

“Really? Cause you’ve been looking at the map longer than Nick was looking at the elephants.” she chuckled, and Chris laughed along with her, Nick had spent ten minutes staring at the elephants earlier that day. She walked over to him and looked at the map, trying to help him.  

“I got it, I got it, gimme a second.” Matt said. Another minute passed of Matt looking at the map, looking adorably confused with a little smile on his face, Y/N thought he looked absolutely adorable and quickly took a picture before Matt laughed to himself and smiled as he looked at his brothers and girlfriend.  

“I got it! It’s this way.” he pointed in the direction of the log flume, and they all made their way to the ride. 

*end of flashback* 

Matt turned on his phone and showed his lockscreen to the camera. (a/n: again, pretend it’s y/n and Matt😭)

“Mine is a picture that Nick took of us in the car about a month or so ago. We were going on our annual family trip and as always, Y/N came along with us, and we were parked at the gas station and I noticed Y/N had fell asleep on me and Nick saw and took a picture of us and sent it to me and it’s one of my favourite photos ever” Matt spoke. 

*flashback to the family trip* 

Y/N and Matt were currently sat in the very back on the car with Nick. Chris, Trevor and Justin sat in front of them, and Marylou and Jimmy were sat in the front seats. They were parked at a gas station filling up the car and Y/N was falling asleep with her head in Matt’s lap, sharing headphones with him and Nick was sat on his phone. 

“You tired baby?” Matt whispered, looking down at the sleepy girl in his lap. She let out an incoherent mumbled reply. 

“Look at this TikTok!” Chris said loudly, turning around to face Matt and Nick. Matt shushed him.  

“Y/N’s asleep Chris be quiet!”  

“Shit! sorry, look at this TikTok though” Chris repeated, much quieter. The boys collectively laughed quietly at the TikTok he’d shown them, Chris turned back around and showed Justin the same TikTok. 

Matt moved a piece of hair out of Y/N’s face, smiling at his sleeping girl. Matt was unaware of Nick looking at the couple with a soft smile of his own on his face, he’d always been their biggest supporter ever since they told him about their relationship. Nick quickly opened his camera on his phone and snapped a picture of the couple and immediately sent it to Matt, the younger brother opened the message and a grin automatically grew on his face. 

“Thanks man, I love this photo” Matt spoke as he set the picture as his wallpaper and sending it to Y/N, so she also had a copy of the photo. Nick smiled.  

“Of course, I’m your personal photographer.” He joked and the brothers softly laughed before going back to doing their own thing waiting for Jimmy to get back in the car after filling it up. 

*end of flashback* 

Y/N put her phone back in her pocket and Matt passed her his phone to read the next question.  

“Aww this one is cute ‘what is your favourite memory with one another?’ I love this question” she smiled.

“my favourite memory with Matt is probably last Christmas when Matt woke me up around 4 in the morning because it was snowing so much and he just couldn’t wait to go build a snowman, this kid literally had a jacket and coat and my shoes ready for me and just woke me up.” They both started laughing at the memory from last Christmas and Matt hit his head on the steering wheel as he leaned forward laughing, causing Y/N to laugh even more as Matt held his head in his hand.

“Laughing at my pain, I see how it is missy.” Matt exclaimed, he reached over the center console of his car and started tickling her sides causing the younger girl to yelp out and tears started streaming down her face as he continued to tickle her. 

“Okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Y/N shouted, out of breath, softly chuckling as she held her hands up in surrender. She passed Matt’s phone back to him.  

The couple continued to answer questions and laugh with each other replaying memories from as early as their childhood to as recent as last week.  

“Okay, final question, this was asked by quite a few people ‘what is your favourite thing about each other?’ We’ll do one physical aspect and then one personality trait, okay?” Matt spoke and Y/N nodded in agreement before Matt continued. 

“My favourite physical thing about Y/N has gotta be her freckles, I’ll admit that I have caught myself counting the freckles on her face before while she’s been asleep” he admitted with a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“My favourite thing about her personality wise is how persistent she is. I’ve seen her get into heated debates with Nick over the most random things and most of the time she’ll win, and I could honestly sit there for hours watching them argue back and forth, it’s so funny” Matt adds with a laugh and he smiles in Y/N’s direction. 

“It’s true, I’ll never let up if I think my opinion is right.” She said laughing with him. “Anyway, my favourite physical thing about Matt is probably his smile, his has got to be my favourite smile ever!” She said proudly, the blue eyed boy next to her stared at her with a soft expression and a wide smile on his face as she carried on talking.

“My favourite personality trait of Matt’s is how attentive and kind hearted he is, like I remember before he made this channel, we were sat on the couch together and he said he wanted to make this channel to help people who may be struggling with mental health like him and to make it a safe space for everyone. And he’s just such a genuinely great guy and nowadays, that’s pretty hard to come by and I couldn’t be more thankful for him. I can confidently say, I can see Matt being the guy I marry when I’m older.” she finished talking. He smiled at her for what felt like the millionth time this video, his cheeks started to hurt from how much she made him smile. 

“I love you baby” Matt spoke, planting a kiss on her cheek, her cheeks flushed.  

“I love you too Matt. So much.” She replied, smiling at the boy she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember. 

“I hope you enjoyed this video guys, we both enjoyed filming it. We love you. Stay happy and stay smiling.” Matt smiled at the camera and Y/N blew a kiss to the camera before he stopped recording. He put the camera down and looked over to Y/N 

“Did you mean that baby? About me being the guy you’d marry?” He asked her, his eyes full of love. She nodded with a smile on her face. 

“Of course, my love. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. You’re my person” she replied. 

He stretched over the center console and placed a kiss on her lips, both of them smiling into the kiss. 

“You’re my person too darling. I’ll marry you one day I promise.” 

And he did.

They got married a few years later.  

A/N: Lowkey was inspired by @imwetforyourmom one shot that was like this. Hope you don’t mind me stealing your idea ahah🫶🏻😅

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x fem reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt x reader #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #christoper sturniolo #nick sturniolo imagines #nick sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagines #nick sturniolo x bsf!reader #sturniolo x reader #tumblr fyp #youtube #fem!reader #matt sturniolo angst

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Second chance: cbf!soap x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of infidelity, angst

You placed the moving box down by your old childhood bed and sighed heavily. That was the last box from your apartment, you were going to fully moved in after this.

Th past year had been one your worst...almost topping junior year of university. It was like the universe was playing some sort of sick trick on you with how constant the bad things kept happening to you.

It started because of your ex-fiancé.

You liked him.

He was nice, attractive and one of the more serious relationships you had gotten into since university. He bought you nice things and showed you off, though whenever you looked back on it he often paired his compliments with negatives to subtly tear you down.

You didn't notice then, or maybe you didn't care as much, or maybe you just pretended not to so he'd stay.

He was really only attentive in the bedroom which was a plus compared to a few other loves you had before him.

The sex was so great however that you walked in on him with another woman in your apartment in your bed one morning after a fight.

At that moment you realized maybe you held on too tight to something you shouldn't have.

After you kicked him out and broke things off you decided it was best to just take a step back from any relationships and to completely get off social media, since it did wonders on your mental health after the break up.

You were lucky enough that you had more self respect for yourself when it came to a cheater than a partner who put you down when he tried to get back with you, even if it hurt you a lot.

You liked him.

Things were looking okay but you should've known better than to get your hopes up.

"We're needing to cut back on a lot of expenses." Your boss had told you. "We still want you on the team but we'll be cutting your pay."

In hindsight you should've waited to quit until you found another job, because before long you were out of money to pay rent since no one else would hire you.

Now you were back to living with your parents.

Your throat tightened as you began to unpack the box onto your bed while deep shame washed over you.

You were a failure. Everyone else in your life had things figured out, Your friends had their own places, they were happily married, they had careers that they like and you...

Well you were stuck back in your small hometown with no back up plan and no job.

Alone.

You sniffled and flopped onto your bed.

You tried hard not to give yourself a pity party but you were at your wits end. You tried everything, you pushed down your feelings and tried to look on the bright side and did everything you were supposed to but nothing worked.

You needed someone right now but your friends were miles away and busy. Your parents were visiting your grandparents and you didn't want their pity.

There was one person.

You grabbed your phone without even thinking about it and went to John's contact in your phone. You went to his messages, ignoring the last mundane message you sent him and hovered your thumbs above the keyboard.

How many times have you done this?

You knew he'd let you cry into the phone and listen to you vent. He'd give you advice or at the very least he'd comfort you and tell you that things were going to be okay, that it always ends up working out for you in the end. He'd make everything alright-

Except you didn't know.

It had been seven years since you last spoke or saw each other. You're not even sure if he had the same phone number, if he even thought about you as often as you did about him.

John could've forgotten about you. He probably became some big shot military hero who had a wife and kids completely far removed from the small town childhood friend he had.

You didn't know, he wasn't on social media.

The only way you could find out was if you reached out and talked to him.

But he didn't want to talk to you.

You had held him back, like you feared you did since high school. That was the only reason you could think of for why he disappeared on you. Why else would he stop talking to you?

You weren't bitter, not anymore. You used to be angry the first year or so but after the angry subsided you realized you were just hurt.

You just wanted your best friend back. Your Johnny. But he was out of reach and he didn't want to come back, he never really did even when he visited you at university.

The screen became blurry and a couple tears ran down your face before you wiped them away.

You needed a distraction.

You didn't think twice as you sloppily put on whatever clothes you could find and walked to the corner store. You were glad your parents weren't in town to see you get drunk on a Monday evening, especially when they kept looking at you like you were push away from a break down.

Probably because you were but that didn't matter right now.

When you walked into the store you went straight to the liquor and picked out the cheapest one you could afford along with any snacks you thought would pair well with it.

You could just drown in your sorrows for the rest of the evening. You'd put on your favorite show or movie, try to ignore the world and hope that when you'd be hungover tomorrow that you'd have enough strength to look for more jobs.

You turned down an aisle and your heart stopped before you froze.

John MacTavish stood at the very end of the aisle, looking very concentrated on the boxes of popcorn in front of him as if it were a life or death situation.

The very real, tangible, and unmistakable John MacTavish, still with the dumb but endearing mohawk, stood just mere feet away from you.

You wanted to be happy but all you felt was immense shame and nervousness.

Not like this. You didn't want to see him like this. You wanted to reconnect when your life was back together, when you had something to show for and not when you were holding cheap alcohol to get shitfaced on a Monday.

"No." You mumbled to yourself as you stared at him with wide eyes. "No, no."

You stepped back and gasped when you ran into a rack of snacks that crashed against the floor loud enough to make your ears hurt. Your heart raced and you nearly ran away as everything became overwhelming.

"Bonnie?"

You snapped your head towards John and you were met with the bright blue eyes that you had missed for seven years.

Tags are closed!

a/n: yay reunion!

Tags: @elysian0612 @cassiecasluciluce @pepsicolacoochie @hayleybarnesx @tiredmetalenthusiast @misshoneypaper @sodavrr @ghostslittlegf @glitterypirateduck @comeonatmebruh @mandalover2023 @blush-haze @xxshadowbabexx @cod-z @sadsackssss @fandomsfanficsfantasize @raeyas-ghost

#cbf!soap #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #call of duty

[thejagermeister]

because i will probably never have the time/energy to write a full fic about it: here are my thoughts on max, steph, friendship, and their mothers winning honey queen.

[content warnings for abuse and death]

the summer before fourth grade, max's mom competed in the honey queen pageant and won by a landslide. she was a lovely woman, adored by everyone she met. of course she won. what her family wasn't expecting was for her to run away with the prize money.

she was never seen again. max's dad, joseph, was always the stricter parent, always quicker to anger than his wife. but after she disappeared he got worse. and worse. over the course of the summer he went from verbally berating max for his mistakes to screaming at him over invented ones.

max saw school as a safe haven. but when he returned to it after that summer, he found himself wanting to hurt his peers. no, it wasn't a want. it was a need. every night his father abused him and every day he'd pass it on to a classmate. he relished in the control it gave.

at first he was scared his dad would get worse when he found out about the bullying, but joe encouraged it. told him "good, keep them in line. be the highest on the food chain, maxwell." eventually the district gave up trying to punish him.

in fourth grade, he mostly bullied the kids that were already outcasts, like pete, richie, and ruth. so he was still close with his best friend, steph.

the summer before fifth grade, steph's mom won the honey queen pageant. this was a total surprise, because she'd never expressed interest in competing before the contestants were announced. but she did great, and she won, and she ran away with the prize money just as max's mom did the year before.

max and steph were nearly inseparable for the rest of the summer. he stuck around to protect her— if his dad started abusing him after his mom ran off, what was stopping her dad from doing the same? she clung to him because she didn't know anyone else who shared the same trauma, who knew exactly what she was going through.

solomon didn't get worse like joe had. he was always pretty cold towards his daughter. in fact, he didn't seem to hold very much grief for his wife at all. he won his first mayoral election that fall.

steph never figured it out— how could she make the connection, when she doesn't know what goes on behind closed doors at the honey festival? she couldn't have known that solomon traded his wife for wealth and power. she couldn't have known that's why nibblinephim takes a special interest in her when she summons the lords in black, years down the line.

max and steph entered middle school, joined at the hip. but year after year they grew apart, as max descended further into the unrelenting bully he became in high school. steph started hanging out with other people. max joined the football team and made strategically chosen friends to keep his status.

sometimes they saw each other at parties. once, when they both were drunk enough to start spilling secrets, they sat outside and reminisced about their mothers.

in the timelines where max dies and becomes a vengeful ghost, steph mourns that he never got away from his awful home life. when he grabs her at the waylon place and says "get behind me, i'll protect you!" for a moment she's nine years old again, nestled into max's side while her father has a campaign meeting in the other room.

in the timelines where he doesn't die, she's the leader of the nerds' quest to "teach max how to be nice." she knows him better than anyone at school, after all. not many people remember the loud, distracted, but caring and protective kid that he used to be.

#hatchetfield #starkid #nerdy prudes must die #honey queen #max jagerman #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #solomon lauter #joe jagerman #headcanons

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

part 1 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - you begin to spiral as you are betrayed by the two people in your life, causing you to question if everything was a lie.

warning - ANGST, !SMUT BUT CHEATING!, heavily detailed cheating, heartbreak, betrayal, bad thoughts, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 2

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

Do you remember the pain of your crush rejecting you? The pain of a man you like, liking someone else? The pain of your boyfriend leaving you for someone else? Or the pain that you feel when you find out your partner is cheating on you? The pain that only love seems to cause. Because you know that pain extremely well, that pain has only embraced you recently. Like a flame wrapping around your body, slowly slithering inside of you, and burning your insides. That afternoon STILL haunts you, no matter how many times you try to push it out of your mind; the thoughts, the touches, the feel, the smell, everything is still so alive and killing you inside. It was the day you understood how powerful love could be if used improperly. You understood why so many people were afraid, why so many protected themselves against it. Some people don’t change… They just find new ways to lie. 

Your best friend, Sarah, who you had known since you both were five, your mum’s having met while watching you on the playground, watching how you both clicked. Your bond had only grown stronger the older you got. Had come into town after having planned to hang out for much needed girl time and you had invited her to stay at yours and Johnny’s house.

You were rushing around the house ensuring that everything was set up, even though Johnny had told you everything was done. You huff. “Baby, are you sure everything is ready and perfect?” You asked your husband, your fingers entangled with one another from nerves as you played with them. 

Your husband was Johnny Storm, famous ex–playboy. When you had met him. He was annoying, he was hilarious, he was the world’s biggest arsehole, he made you want to scream, he would ruin your day and save it at the last minute, he drove you crazy, he was out of his mind, you hated his guts, and he was everything you wanted. Somehow, you made it work. You had thought he changed.

Johnny grins, pulling you into him causing you to sink into his hold. “Yeah, babe. It’s going to be fine. Why are you stressing so much?”

You shrugged, biting on your bottom lip. “I haven’t seen her in a while. I just want everything to be perfect. I want her to feel at home.” Oh, how those words would come back to bite you on the arse. 

He kisses the top of your head, “She will, babe. Don’t worry.” 

Once everything was sorted and checked about twenty times. You hear a car pull up and quickly head towards the door and as you swing it open, arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug. You both squeal, squeezing each other. Your chin rests on her shoulder, eyes closed and smiling. Yet, her eyes were open and set on your husband with a smirk. You pull back, smiling brightly as she mimics yours. “I’ve missed you so much! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Sarah licks her lips, eyes flickering over to Johnny’s before going back to yours. “I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity!” You didn’t know that her words seemed to have a double meaning. You helped her with her bags, leading her over to the guest room which is next to yours and Johnny’s. The two of you chatting away as you catch up, your voice filled with such happiness, such pure joy. 

The afternoon rolled around, and you both decided to start getting ready, after spending the day in the pool before dinner, you both desperately needed to wash the chlorine off. You let her shower first while you picked out your outfits, once she was done, a small towel tightly wrapped around her body. You headed into the bathroom, her close behind so that she could do her makeup. It had become a routine that you had grown used to growing up together. Neither of you were bothered by it. 

You stripped once you had turned the shower on and ensured it was hot enough, when it was, you got in, the heat caused steam to coat the glass, making it foggy and hard to see through. You could only make out blurry shapes and Sarah’s fuzzy figure. You decided to take a longer shower, dinner wasn’t until later and you wanted to make sure everything was properly shaved, washed, and rinsed. 

You were so zoned out while lathering yourself with soap that you didn’t notice Johnny sneaking into the bathroom and standing behind your best friend. His arms moved around her body as he began pressing kisses onto her exposed flesh. He pressed his bulge into her towel covered arse, groaning quietly. Sarah leans back into him, covering her mouth as he bends her over the counter slightly, lifting one of her legs onto it. “Keep doing your makeup, babygirl.” Johnny grunts quietly, running his fingers through her soaked cunt. 

You moved under the water, sighing as it hit you, watching the soap roll of your body. Johnny’s head turns as he checks to make sure you haven’t noticed. His hand strokes up and down his hardened member before he slides into your best friend’s cunt. His gaze turns back to hers, watching as her mouth falls open. He smirks, thrusting all the way in as he leans close, whispering into her ear, making sure to keep their eyes connected. “You missed feeling me inside you, didn’t you? You’ve gotten so fucking tight, such a good girl for me.” She moans softly, rocking back into him. Johnny bites his lip as his thrusts pick up, the rush of being caught fucking his wife’s best friend makes him so fucking hard. He wondered if you would catch them, wondered how you’d react.

His eyes roll back at the thought, hands gripping Sarah’s hips tightly as he pounds into her harder. “Fuck, babygirl. I’m gonna fuck you so much while you’re here. Gonna pump you so full, make up for lost time.” One hand leaves her hip and moves up to her hair, gripping a fistful, pulling her back against him, she still tries to apply her makeup as he fucks into her harder and faster. Her eyes flutter, desperately trying to make sure she doesn’t screw up anything, her mouth falls open as Johnny begins to pound into her sweet spot, her hand drops and she grips onto the counter, pushing back into him, meeting his thrusts. “What a little slut.” He grips her hair tighter, nipping a sensitive spot on her neck, groaning when he feels her tighten around him. “You like getting fucked by your best friend’s husband while she’s in the room, huh? Like being my dirty girl?” 

Their heads snap over when you open the shower door slightly, their movements not stopping, Johnny only fucks into her faster, a shiver rushing through him at the thought of your eyes connecting with theirs, watching him ruin your childhood friend. 

You grab a small cloth to rub some shampoo out of your eyes, not noticing the two in the room. You close the door and go to continue your shower until a moan cut through the air. Your brows furrow, wondering if you imagined it or if someone really did moan. Your question is answered as the moan is followed by a muffled shut up and you begin to focus on the glass, squinting to try and see who is making the noise.

Johnny growls lowly, his hand covers Sarah’s mouth, cupping it roughly as he fucks into her faster. His other hand slides between her and the counter before finding her swollen clit, rubbing it. Their eyes focused on each other’s as he rests his chin on her shoulder. He fucks and looks at her so intimately, more intimately than his own wife. Johnny’s thrusts become rougher and sloppier as he feels his end approaching. He had missed her sweet, tight cunt. Leaning forward, he whispers. “You better fucking take my cum and keep it in you while you are with my wife, I want to see it still there when I come into your room tonight. Understand, slut?” Sarah whimpers, fucking herself onto him as she nods.

Your eyes widen and tears immediately fill them as you see the figures through the glass. You had wiped some of the steam off only to see your husband fucking your best friend and your hand shoots up quickly to cover your mouth as you try and muffle the sob that tries to escape. You couldn’t pull your eyes away, no matter how much you wanted to. It was like watching a car wreck, you wanted to look away but no matter what your eyes would not stray. You felt sick, your stomach twisted and your heart broke. They didn’t seem to care that you were in the same room, that you could catch them at any moment. You DID catch them…

Johnny grunts, fucking deep into her soft cunt. He feels his tip twitch and his balls tighten, she felt like heaven to him. “I’m going to cum, babygirl. You gonna be a good girl and obey me?” She nods and he lets go, burying his cock deep inside of her, his cum spurting out and painting her walls white. His head falls back, cock still twitching as cum continues to leak from his tip, his hand still rubbing her clit as she cums around him, squeezing his thick cock with her tight walls. With a groan, he slides out of her and tucks himself away. “Good girl.” 

Sarah spins around and smiles, she gets on her tippy toes and places a rough kiss on his lips, as though she was claiming what was hers. His arms wrap around her, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. Johnny pulls back, smiling down at her with a look not even you had seen. With a wink, he leaves the bathroom and Sarah rushes to fix herself, trying to make it look like nothing happened while you sit broken on the shower floor. 

You pull your knees close to your chest as silent sobs slip from your lips and your eyes close. You couldn’t get the image out of your head, them fucking and kissing was engraved into your brain. You don’t want to think about it, but you know deep down that this was probably not the first time, especially with how comfortable and familiar they already seemed with each other. Your throat clenches as the need to throw up hits you, you gulp as you try to stop it. 

“Hey! You nearly done? We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late!” Sarah’s voice cuts through the rushing water and the tower of thoughts filling your mind.

“Y–” You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the quiver that attaches itself to your voice. “Yeah!” You reply, not having the strength to say anything else. You watch through the glass as she leaves the bathroom, probably to get dressed or fuck your husband again. The thought causes another wave of tears to fall, how had your life turned upside down so fast? You quickly finish up, not daring to go close to the area they were. You could see there was some cum still on the floor and it had made you feel like throwing up again. You couldn’t bother with makeup at this point, you hurriedly got out of that room and into your bedroom.

You could hear the game on downstairs as well as Johnny’s shouts, so you guessed that he was down there and your supposed best friend was here, in your room… Where you sleep next to your husband, falling asleep to whispered, ‘I love you’s’. The clothes you had picked out for her were already on and showing off an extreme amount of skin. You could’ve sworn those clothes were bigger. “Finally! How do I look?” She turns, hands on her hips. 

You had to pull yourself out of your thoughts when she spoke, you could feel yourself slipping. You swallow and nod your head. “...Great.” How were you supposed to act around her now? She was staying for the weekend, and it seemed they probably weren’t going to stop. Was this why Johnny hadn’t slept with you since your wedding? Your eyes widened as you thought back, you hoped your thoughts were wrong, prayed even. “Uh… I might have to cancel for tonight.” You cough, hands falling to your stomach as you put on your well–practiced sick face, you had to play it out that you felt sick. Which wasn’t really a lie… “I think I might’ve come down with something… Or the food I ordered last night might’ve not been so good…” 

Sarah pouts. “Well, that sucks.” She looks down at her clothes. “I don’t really want this outfit to go to waste though, do you mind–?” You shake your head, wanting, NEEDING her to leave. If it were any other situation, you would’ve questioned her selfishness and lack of care, but it really just made sense on why she was fucking your husband. Your grip on your towel tightened as you held it closer to you, following her out as she leaves. You didn’t miss the way Johnny looked at her or how she smirked at him. Has it always been like this? Were you really that blind? You quickly utter a bye before hurrying past your husband without sparing him a look. 

But you weren’t so lucky. “Aren’t you supposed to be going with her?” He had followed you, watching as you slipped your pyjamas on. You didn’t like him seeing you naked, not that you now knew you weren’t the only one. You hadn’t looked at him once, but he didn’t seem to care.

“I… I felt sick so she went herself.” You chewed on your bottom lip to the point it began to bleed, but before Johnny could see, you sucked your lip into your mouth. You crawled into your bed, suddenly feeling dirty as you peered down at it. Had he brought others into it? Was it tainted like your marriage? You quickly shook off the thought and laid down, curling into the mattress, and pulling the blankets closer to you. You needed to think and cry, you didn’t know what to do. Your life had just been flipped upside down and you had no one else, where would you go if you left him? Have other wives felt this? Had they stayed until they had things sorted or left and figured it out on the way? Johnny nods, shrugging before he leaves. How could he switch up so fast? You didn’t sleep with each other, but he still at least gave you a kiss or made it seem like he cared. Was it all an act until she got here? Or did he care but she had clouded his mind? 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollwork #welcome to hell #welcome to hell au #johnny storm imagine #johnny storm x reader #johnny storm fanfiction #johnny storm x you #johnny storm fic #johnny storm fanfic #johnny storm angst #johnny storm au #johnny storm oneshot #johnny storm one shot #johnny storm imagines #johnny storm x fem!reader #johnny storm x female reader #husband johnny storm x wife reader #cheater johnny storm x wife reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #chris evans drabble #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fic #chris evans imagines #johnny storm series

[ragzonacamrencruise]

Betrayal (An ATLA analysis)

It's really important to me, how, in the Avatar universe, the person who's at the right side of the throne (essentially the right hand), always betrays the one sitting on the said throne.

Exhibit A:

Long Feng, kept the King oblivious to the Hundered Year War and handled all matters that are not partying or charity events, making him the de facto ruler of Ba Sing Se without even the King's knowledge, essentially paving a way for his betrayal.

Exhibit B:

Zuko, said it himself, that he was literally at his father's right hand. Even Azula got only the second best seat. And the next thing Zuko does? He betrays his father. I know what you're all thinking. But didn't Zuko already betray him before? Well, he did when he released Aang from Zhao as the Blue Spirit. But, the important point is, his explicit orders were to capture the Avatar to restore his honour. It didn't matter which methods he used to do it. He only ever openly betrayed his father during the eclipse and that was after he was placed at the right hand in the war meeting.

Exhibit C:

Mai, a betrayal that was a turning point in Azula's declining mental health. But hey, Ty Lee betrayed Azula too, right? Yes. But that doesn't change the fact that Mai did it first and she was sat at Azula's right hand. Mai never really feared Azula. She only followed her around out of her own will. Ty Lee on the other hand, when Azula recruits her at the circus, is found showing fear. She only had the guts to betray Azula after Mai did.

It really puts into perspective how Ty Lee couldn't betray Azula until provoked because she feared her, and Mai betrayed Azula because she didn't fear her enough. It further solidifies Azula's stellar line, "You should've feared me more!", insisting that if Mai had feared her more, she wouldn't have betrayed her. This especially holds true because it's later explained by Azula herself that, "Fear is the only reliable way." Fear kept Ty Lee in line but liberalised Mai cuz she didn't fear Azula more.

But all that goes out the window because Ty Lee betrayed Azula too. This is also one of the main reasons why Azula banishes most of the people around her. Because, "None of them can be trusted", and she trusted Mai as she knew Mai never feared her. It hurts her deeper because she trusted Mai and let her mantra of "Fear is the only reliable way" go, and guess what happens? She betrays her.

This solidifies three things in her brain: 1. Trust doesn't work, and, 2. Fear doesn't work either. 3. Nothing works, really.

Therefore, her action of banishing everybody with, "Sooner or later they all would've betrayed me."

This works for Exhibits A and B too. Long Feng never feared King Kuei and King Kuei completely trusted him until he learned of his betrayal. Trust didn't work, and fear didn't work either.

Zuko had never trusted his father. He only feared him. He has a physical scar on his body to prove it. But once that fear starts to deteriorate, he openly confronts his father and betrays him, letting go of his fear with, "It was cruel, and it was wrong!". Trust didn't work, and fear didn't work either.

So, what does work?

Well, the answer is pretty simple.

Love.

Love works. Any number and different kinds of love, be it platonic, or sibling, or romantic, it doesn't matter. It is foolproof!

Genuine care and affection for a person, doesn't let you betray them that easily. It's what made Sokka decide they should help Aang in Book 1. It's what made Yue turn into the moon. It's what made Toph come back to the Gaang again after she stormed off in Book 2. It's what made Aang come back for Bumi in Omashu in Book 2. It's what made Zuko find his path to Iroh again in Book 3.

The lack of love (from her own parents) is what made Azula's mental health deteriorate, as she thought nothing worked; it's depressing because she doesn't know that love actually works, cuz she's never known or experienced love her entire life, so she doesn't even consider it as an option.

The lack of love is what made the Dai Li betray Long Feng. The lack of it drove Zuko's betrayal to Ozai, Mai and Ty Lee's betrayal to Azula and even Jet's betrayal to Katara.

This could go on and on, but the end point here is that Azula's words on betrayal are true, but only when love is taken out of the equation. Love is the 'X' factor. Without it, there really is no equation, as all leads to zero.

#atla #ragzie yaps #my teeny tiny observations #avatar the last airbender #betrayal #atla analysis #long feng #azula #princess azula #mai #ty lee #mai and ty lee #zuko #prince zuko #ozai #firelord ozai #avatar the last airbender analysis #dai li #katara #jet atla #katara of the southern water tribe #sokka #sokka of the southern water tribe #iroh #uncle iroh #toph #toph beifong #princess yue #king bumi

[alias-milamber]

UK Elections For People Who Have No Real Reason To Care

(The following post has many personal opinions and is not meant as an unbiased view on UK politics)

The UK Prime Minister, Rish! Sunak (although if you've lost track, that's not on you) has announced a general election, meaning a massive reelection of all 650 MPs that sit in the House of Commons.

General Elections may be called at any time, but must be announced before the 5th anniversary of the last one, but no less than 25 days before it happens. Sunak had until mid December to call one. He's opted for July 4th, probably so Biden doesn't notice he's not in charge anymore.

Why now? Inflation has fallen for the first time in fucking ages, and nothing's gone disasterously wrong for nearly three weeks, so he thinks it's the best time.

Who will win? The Labour party would have to absolutely fuck themselves directly and repeatedly to lose the upcoming election.

So the Tories again, probably.

Who are these people?

The UK currently has various party blocks. All these parties are a series of smaller parties in a raincoat, to a greater or lesser official extent, but they haven't scuttled between raincoats for a bit.

*deep breath*

Conservatives, blue, Have held the biggest majority (and therefore the premiership) since 2010. Traditionally the party of the right, currently under the banner of "One Conservatism", which is basically "Plebs stay in your lane, we'll stay in ours, and if we all do our bit it'll be the 1800s again before you know it". Over the last score years have slowly drifted further and further right as the disaster-capitalists at the core depowered and destroyed the last vestiges of sanity. They've never been the good guys, but right now they're clinging on by a thread. Been through four leaders in five years, and scraped the bottom of the barrel to find Rishi Sunak, a man without any personality traits at all married to a woman with a very large number of government contracts in her company. Informally known as the Tory party, for reasons historical. Traditionally suprisingly good on LGB issues, increasingly shit on T issues. Current policies include saying anything to make people on the right vote for them.

Labour, Red. The party the Tories have been trading off with for the last hundred years or so. In theory a party "Of The People" standing for worker's rights and the unions, in practice they've been drifting centre-right for the last forty years to capture tory voters as they're flung overboard by that party's fleeing right. A lot of their support still comes from the trade unions, but there's a vast and increasing gulf between the party leadership and Labour's traditional positions. The current leader, Sir Keir Starmer, is a soapstone edifice to police power, dedication to which got him a knighthood. Generally considered The Less Worse Option. Traditionally good on LGBT issues, increasingly shit on LGBT issues. Especially T issues. Current policies include saying anything to make anybody vote for them.

Liberal Democrats, Yellowy Orange. The traditional third party, who were the ones trading power with the aristocracy party up to 100 years ago when Labour took over. After slowly building up a reputation for solid and dependable politics with sensible aims, they hit it big in 2010 when their leader at the time - Nick Clegg - was charismatic enough to get them actual media attention during a general election. They finished third as ever, but took enough of a bite out of the blues that the only way to form a majority government was to form a coalition with either of the leading parties. Labour refused, so the Con/Dem Coalition was formed. Over the next few years, the Dems traded all of their power for magic beans, and took the fall for all of their policies being vetoed by their partners, especially the abolition of student loans - a cornerstone of their campaign and the source of a great deal of their millennial popularity. Nick Clegg is now the head of communication for Meta, and the LibDems have rotated through a series of blank pieces of paper where their leadership used to be, having probably blown their chance of leadership for another century. Most famous currently for putting out leaflets saying "Only LibDems can win against the tories!" with the kind of mislabelled graphs that would get you kicked out of maths class. Most people couldn't pick the current leader out of a lineup, or name a current policy.

Green Party, Green. Probably the most progressive party of the lot, and have really capitalised on the collapse of the LibDem support. Very good on green initiatives, but the aging hippy at the core of their leadership occasionally veers into Edison Was A Witch anti-technologist, especially around anything to do with nuclear power. Extremely good as an argument candidate locally, but have a rough time getting their arguments onto the national stage. Their democratic internals are also somewhat prone to slate-manipulation which has recently put non-socially-progressive candidates in high positions. Which is a more polite than they deserve way of saying that they are occasionally terfy as fuck.

SNP, Yellow & Black: Current Governors of Scotland. To be absolutely honest, I don't know much about them apart from their extremely hard - and justified - boner for getting independence of Scotland from the rest of this shitshow. They've had a bit of a rocky road internally for the last couple of years, but unless they completely fuck everything in the next 40 days, they're unlikely to be dethroned. They're also unlikely to get their way any time soon, more's the pity.

Alba, Blue & White: The former leader of the SNP - Alec Salmond - went to set up his own party with blackjack and hookers after he was turfed out on sexual abuse allegations. Has, to date, only managed to gain seats by converting sitting SNP members. Terfy as fuck.

Sinn Fein, dark green: The party of Irish republicanism, both north and south, though the north is the only bit that is part of this general election. Commenting on Sinn Fein is so far out of my swim lane that I'm liable to be eaten by a shark.

Various Nationalist Parties, Misc. Reform UK (nee Brexit Party), UKIP, Britain First, etc. It's been half a century since Britain had any kind of national identity, really, but that's not any excuse to go back to that one. A selection of gammon-faced shouty-men (and, it's 2024, women) will happily take your vote in return for a promise that Britain can once again crush the world under its heel and get rid of all the darkies once and for all. There's really no reason for them to to be in the section below, but the BBC and other media keep booking them and giving them the oxygen of attention for "balance", and that means they keep coming up like the spaghetti which gave you food poisoning. Which they hate. Because it's foreign.

Misc. There are various single-issue and low population parties, and independent MPs, who don't make this list. I hope one day some of them do.

As a reward for reading all of that, here's a dog photo:

#uk politics

[bug-oc]

Bug Fables OC Tournament Round 1

Bau (they/any) from @mantisgodsdomain

Bau (short for Bauplan) is a bandit - a dune cricket of a bandit, to be more specific. Cheerful and enthusiastic, they're prone to making friends wherever they go, with a well of energy and good cheer that almost seems bottomless. Though they belong to a species that's best known for being antisocial and cannibalistic, Bau is, perhaps, the biggest example of "terminally friendly" you'll ever meet - in more ways than one.

The ways to describe them are endless. "Party animal". "Shoulder to cry on". "Like if you violently blended a frat boy with a golden retriever and then made them 8'2 and a criminal". All of these descriptions, and more, fit them nearly perfectly (though they are not, in fact, literally 8'2, for reasons relating to them being an insect). When it comes to those they call their friends, they've got a nearly endless well of both energy and willingness to stick by the people they care for even in the worst of circumstances.

This extends, of course, to conditions most would consider to be decidedly unfriendly. They'll consider you a friend long after you've stabbed them in the back, after you've robbed them blind or carved their shell open with a sword. They are still a Bandit. They understand the kinds of things you have to do to make ends meet! The time might come, after all, where they might have to do the same for you.

They'd hate for you to die - truly, genuinely hate for it - but when it comes down to it, the lives of their fellow bandits have to come first. It's one life against many - and, you know, even if they'll mourn over you, their family needs to eat. They care for the people they meet so genuinely it can be overwhelming - even if you've only met for a bit, you're still a friend in their eyes, and they'll both gleefully and vocally consider you to be a companion. They're painfully genuine in all walks of life - they would never lie about anything regarding their own feelings, even to spare yours.

Down to the wire, they'll always pick the option to preserve as many people's lives as they can. Under kinder circumstances, they would never need to make a choice, but they're a Bandit, and a high-ranking enough one that making tough choices comes to be their responsibility.

They have the fate of their whole community in their hands. They'd love to offer a better chance, but they have to be pragmatic sometimes, especially when it comes to the Bandits they're responsible for feeding. When it comes down to a trolley problem, when it's the life of someone they care for against the lives of however many strangers - your life holds value to them, but they're not so cruel as to let people starve for the sake of one person's feelings.

If it were you with your dagger in their chest, then they would forgive you in a heartbeat. But if you don't feel like they deserve the courtesy of forgiveness - well, that's fine, too. They don't get to choose how you feel, after all. What kind of friend would they be if they tried to pick your thoughts for you? They still consider you to be a good friend, even after everything.

Holly (he/they) from @thetroupemaster

Holly's an ancient Roach with the most hellish commute known to Bugaria, long dead by the time Team Snakemouth rolled around. He was an inhabitant of the Sand Castle in its prime, assisted in his endeavors by a Warden named "Citadel" - who, in fact, practically just pestered him and nothing else - and worked at the Upper Snakemouth laboratories on the immortality experiments conducted within. Every day, he'd have to make the walk from the desert to the caves, and every night, he'd have to make the walk back, with the majority of his work day being travel time.

In fact, this horrible commute was what saved his life from suffering the same fate as the other Snakemouth scientists, as the cavern had already suffered its breakout of the subjects contained within and was thrown into total lockdown by the time he arrived at the gate, unable to get inside. So, Holly went home, unknown of what horrors happened within the walls, and unknowing that their life had been saved by the suffering of walking across half of Bugaria to get to home and work.

Personality-wise, he's a rather casual individual, just doing his job of… well, torturing people. But it's fine, it pays them well enough to make the transit worth it, and he's curious enough about what makes a bug tick that he just couldn't say no to the offer! With a particular interest in technology and biology, and maybe a couple of records of vivisection under their belt, this immortality-obsessed Roach makes quite the impression.

Why should you vote for him? Well, it'd be really funny to vote for a dead scientist, and their awful robot that bites. Oh, yeah, Citadel bites.

#bf oc tournament #bug fables #bug fables oc

[lakemojave]

Tonight at 6pm Pacific: The Direct Actors, A Baldur's Gate 3 "Adventure" pt. 14!

It's time to scope out the mausoleum and kick Ketheric Thorm's white ass! Our party's had a nice, healthy talk about their feelings too :3. Come see @radiofreederry play Dhudlei Durite, elf paladin, my friends Nana and April play Leviathan, Dragonborn Dark Urge Monk, @caputvulpinum play Micah Harper, Tiefling Cleric, and me play Delilah "Mama D" Harper, Halfling Bard!

Art by @terrafey, recap under the cut. See y'all then!

THE STORY SO FAR: On the way to a union rally, Delilah "Mama D" Harper and her grandson Micah were abducted and taken aboard an ilithid nautiloid, which they escaped with mysterious dancer Leviathan and self-proclaimed "Champion of Ilmater and Paladin of Good" Dhudlei Durite. Each infected by a mind flayer tadpole, but so far immune from transforming into mind flayers themselves, The Direct Actors, as the party have come to be known, have been pushed to their breaking point in the Shadow-Cursed lands, and now look to break the power of Ketheric Thorm and end the curse once and for all...

LAST TIME: After the harrowing drama at the inn, the Direct Actors took some time to work on fixing Karlach's heart before returning to camp and recuperating. Leviathan rebuffed Micah's attempts to talk to him about the events with Wyll, and the party took a trip to the local tavern, where Mama D tricked Ketheric Thorm's undead son Thisobold into drinking himself to death and revealing that Ketheric's weakness could be found in the Thorm mausoleum.

With Dhudlei disguised as a gnome to avoid identification by Ketheric, the Direct Actors finally arrived at Moonrise Towers, where they met the undying paladin, Dhudlei's onetime best friend, now in command of the Absolute's forces, who also seemed to know Leviathan. Assumed a True Soul by the cultists, Leviathan was given some goblins to punish, and he gave into his Urge by having them choke themselves to death.

The party then infiltrated the castle's prison where, with some help from New Gale's time powers, managed to break out the tieflings and gnomes imprisoned there, before leaving Moonrise to rest up at camp.

Dhudlei confronted Micah about keeping secrets and Micah revealed the truth about what had happened with Isobel before the timeline was reset. Dhudlei and Micah then went on to have a heart to heart in which they both opened their hearts to each other, with Dhudlei feeling Micah's hatred for the iniquities of the world, and Micah experiencing the depth of suffering and pain Dhudlei had experienced in his long life, which had forged him into the paladin he was today.

Meanwhile, Mama D confronted Leviathan, only to be met by a new personality unlike the ones the party had thus far known. This Leviathan alternated between making veiled threats, tearing at Mama D's insecurites, and acting like he wanted to be her friend, which culminated in the third Leviathan assaulting Mama D and beating her near to death. The entire party then confronted Leviathan, which ended in an admission by both regular Leviathans of their insecurites, fears, and desires, although they still rebuffed the party's overtures to help them, resolving only to find their way together to Baldur's Gate. The day ended with the party mostly having knit their bond back together, but with the spectre of the third Leviathan hanging over them, and careless comments by Mama D having once again shaken Micah's faith in her.

Will Dhudlei and Micah have another heart-to-heart? Will the third Leviathan emerge again? Where did Raphael get to anyway? Will Mama D finally just fucking tell her grandson that she loves him? Find out in another exciting instalment of Baldur's Gate 3, starring the Direct Actors!

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #twitch #stream #the direct actors #shameless plugging

[dorkicon]

bitching abt homophobia n shit at my job in the tags o7 happy pride

#so i voluenteer at a library n work there through a 3rd party job center over the summer. ive volunteered there for like 5 yrs so i know -- #--the staff there p well #anyway yeah so like last year our pride display got taken down bc someone complained. our director didnt really contest this. #our pride display got taken down again. this time with the board threatening to cut funding if we put it back up. #no contesting yet again #its literally just the corner of a 3 sided display podium with some gay books or whatever #some guy comes in and tears up our lgbt author rec list. the director removes those as well #there r 2 bi clerks and one genderqueer clerk and me! the fag gopher and she still doesnt feel it pertinent 2 stick up for the ppl who-- #work there #or maybe she does right? like i want to believe she does bc ive known her for 5 maybe 6 actually years. ive gone to christmas-- #parties at her house. shes been someone i can count on before and yet here she is letting us all down #bc its not just me or the gay ppl who work there right its for the ppl in my shitty fucking southern town who have basic common decency #shes someone i thought was some kind of ally HAHAH...like that term feels lame but #.....yeah yknow? #she even said shed be moving picture books with gay parents and shit into a quote quote adult matters section into the juvenile section #i assume on request of the board bc obvs being trans or gay or whatever is of course an adult matter that will taint our beautiful little #tow headed bastards #we even had the guy who requested the pride display be taken down come in today and CHECK to make sure no faggy books were out #ive been very angry about it and i just need to ...spit it up somewhere. maybe a transformers blog isnt the best place for it but whatever. #sorry about my language lol. #shes my boss and its going to be a real issue for me bc she laughed saying id have to start cleaning bathrooms this year and i legitimately #--nearly had to leave the room. like haha really funny. glad you can laugh about shit. did you know im a fucking queer.

[dragonwolfe22]

I started feeling bad that I've been super into DC movies and comics this last month, but y'know what? Fuck that. I am living the teenage boyhood I didn't get the first go around.

Comics and superheroes aren't a boy thing, but they weren't really presented as an option for me. So now I'm going to like them in a BOY way and no one can stop me! MUAHAHAHAHA

I'm going to the COMIC BOOK STORE today! I'm going to be a weird little nerd about it! I want batman sheets! And spiderman pajamas!

#i got into the avengers in high school because the movies were so big everyone was expected to like it #and i did! and i found fanfiction and fandom at the same time and im so grateful for that #but sometimes theres this sad feeling when i remember all those birthday parties and shit with superhero themes #the boys that chatted about how their favorite superhero could totally beat up all the bad guys #it feels bad to describe this in terms of media consumption but its that dividing line in childhood #i was not treated by my parents as lesser but i was treated different. two clubhouses #theres more to it but i can best verbalize it by how i know all the barbie movies and have opinions on different my little pony generations #but my only knowledge of the ninja turtles is other people's backpacks as a kid #i wouldn't trade away my encyclopedic knowledge of breyer horse figurines pre-2013 but I'd've loved to have known wtf a bionicle was #i didnt want this to be sad. im just trying to figure out what kind of man i am and some of that is letting myself like things just because #not because theyre gendered but because i like it. i overthink my enjoyment of most everything and i want to learn to just be #so im going to be ridiculously excited about comics. and just be

[bylertruther]

be honest. do you think the party knows will is gay?

#i go back n forth on this ....... bc they've known each other since they became people like literally since they gained real consciousness #and they're a PARTY they're a FAMILY they would do ANYTHINGGGG for each other #mike and dustin recognized will's whimpers over the radio like. his WHIMPERS!!! #and they obviously know what will gets bullied abt n they clearly don't like it bc yeah it's different bc will was considered missing at the #time but like. when dustin lucas n mike get bullied on their own they're like 😒🫤🙄 but when troy n james were going IN on will? #they got more upset than we've seen them previously. #and also as someone who tried to be lowkey and literally never talked abt anything gay but was still 100% clocked and literally not a single #person was shocked and couldn't even pretend to be bdjhfbdjhjd i just . like. idk i guess i see tht being possible for will. #bc he's just... So Will in this era where that is 100% NOT okay. he's sensitive he's sweet they baby him etc etc (obviously he's more than #this but the narrative tells us that this is how he is treated and seen by others in the show) #and i think abt how dustin called lucas mike's best friend right? and it's like. clearly they don't consider will to be JUST mike's friend #bc they themselves saw how mike was all in on saving him and REFUSED to believe tht will was dead and left them at the quarry when they #saw the body. and then they also saw how mike didn't let them comfort will the way he did and wouldn't let them touch him and how #will went to him first with everything and how mike was literally at the lab and at his side no matter what AND in the shed. #so CLEARLYYYYYY will is Something Else even if they can't name it and we as viewers kno tht its a love interest #so it's like. i think they Would know. or suspect it. or have it be something tht they thought abt before but maybe didn't #want to think so bc he was bullied for it and will didn't like tht so they didn't want to 'side' with the bullies u kno? #bc it is the eighties + small town + indiana after all. #i just feel like they know each other too well for it to be A Complete And Total Shocker OMG No Way! kind of thing u kno? #and while will has never been out obviously he also like... doesn't act like the other boys. and how they Say he should be. ever. #he doesn't conform. and they Do treat him differently. so it feels almost like an unspoken thing where they're never going to say anything #to him about it bc they don't want to corner him and it doesn't matter to them but they're also 100% going to support and love him #literally no matter what bc thts their cleric thts their best friend the person they've all fought monsters for and put themselves in danger #for time and time again without complaint and entirely out of love #so like. yeah. u kno? #MIKE ON THE OTHER HAND.... i don't even kno. he is a Mystery to me. i think tht in his heart he knows but it's one of those things #that he doesn't Want to kno. bc he is greatly aware of the times they live in. he's a wheeler if he knows anything #it's that he Has to be Normal he Has to be The Right Version of Normal #and that whatever he is is Not normal .. if tht makes sense? bc his parents pushed him n punished him for 'being a kid' #despite the fact tht he Was a kid. and also yanno. reagan supporters lol n stone me if u want but i feel like karen is the

[tonycries]

Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampié, one bed trope, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum. 

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus. 

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago. 

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side. 

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin. 

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.  

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises. 

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right? 

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.  

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam! 

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail. 

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?” 

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-” 

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.” 

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days. 

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad. 

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer. 

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places. 

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed. 

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all. 

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body. 

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case. 

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent. 

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep” 

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before- 

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence. 

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either. 

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off. 

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late. 

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him. 

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist. 

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet. 

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind. 

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit. 

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker. 

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up. 

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.” 

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning. 

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby. 

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory. 

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race. 

 “I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.” 

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. 

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of  Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin. 

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest. 

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?” 

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap. 

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment. 

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does. 

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours. 

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love. 

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t. 

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties. 

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt. 

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs. 

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat. 

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden. 

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get. 

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole. 

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction. 

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers. 

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak. 

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting. 

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-” 

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs. 

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss. 

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“Next time you do that you’re-” 

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours. 

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes. 

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins. 

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum. 

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters. 

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips. 

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy.  It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with. 

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you. 

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below. 

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow. 

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you. 

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” 

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. 

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can. 

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him. 

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest. 

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell. 

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?” 

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part. 

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt. 

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours. 

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out. 

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.” 

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well. 

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach. 

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget. 

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would. 

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. 

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you. 

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you. 

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything. 

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile. 

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do. 

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump. 

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.” 

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time. 

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

[forbidden-sunlight]

warnings: mentioned child abuse, fem!reader, arranged marriage, implied obsessive behavior.

Imagine being reincarnated not as the heroine of the dark romance novel that you fell asleep reading, but the male lead’s villainous stepmother. Although it would be many years before you would marry his father, and your family would get out their mountain of debt from this arranged marriage. You swore to not take out your anger on the poor child as you laid in your crib.

Just because the duke still held a candle for his first wife and the mother of the male lead, his son did not deserve such cruel treatment from a woman who would never receive any affection from her husband. Arranged marriages rarely result in mutual happiness, but there is always the possibility of creating a respectful partnership between each other. 

So that is what you will do. 

You became ambitious in your studies and etiquette lessons, making connections with other young ladies of high society as your own reputation grew. Instead of becoming known for being a spiteful and superficial noblewoman,  invitations to soirees, tea parties, and banquets arrived at your household every other day.

The Mad Dog of Macaluso became The Blossoming Flower of High Society. Despite the marriage proposals your household had received, none of the gentlemen in the Umbra Empire were as rich as Giovanni Lombardo, the grand duke and the male lead’s father. 

So, the marriage still happened; but you were not bothered by your new husband’s declaration on your wedding night that he would never have a child with you, citing that he found you unpleasant and nothing at all like his deceased wife as his tall frame towering over yours, his gray orbs glaring down at you with icy disdain. You stared at him for a moment before you smiled.

“No one can ever replace a loved one, and it is a relief to know that you do not care for me romantically, Your Grace. This is a situation that is beneficial only to my house, and the Emperor had forced you to select me because he was tired of hearing everyone talking about how his most trusted aide has refused to remarry since his wife’s passing six years ago during childbirth. Your son is your heir, so there is no need to have another child. If you would permit me, I would like to get to know him more. If you do not believe me, you can assign a servant to watch me interact with him and the rest of the staff. Is that acceptable?”

The baffled expression on the duke’s face at your words had been worth all the hard work you have placed into being a better side character that wouldn’t be killed in the novel’s third chapter. You would not disappoint him. 

You would prove to be a valuable partner and protect the male lead until it was time for you to leave the stage. 

Three years passed. You performed your duties as the duchess, overseeing the household and organizing any functions that were to be hosted in the duchy. When you weren’t doing paperwork in your private office or speaking to the head butler on how to improve the workplace and other matters, you spent time with the male lead. 

Alessandro was a sweet little darling, possessing his father’s shiny platinum silver tresses and his mother’s bright blue eyes that sparkled in delight when you praised him for doing so well in his studies with a big hug or a kiss on the cheek. He was precocious for a six-year-old, though he still could not understand why his Papa didn’t like Mama. Mama being you, even when you have had to gently correct him more than once that you are his stepmother, not his birth mother. 

“Some day when you are older, you will understand.” You said, resting your chin on top of his head as you carefully adjusted your grip around his middle. He liked to sit in your lap under the garden’s pagoda during tea time, and you saw no issue with it.  “Papa may not like me, but we love you. That will never change, and we only want the best for you.” You ran a hand through his hair, tucking a stray strand behind his ear. 

In the original work, he became obsessed with the female lead because he did not receive any love from his father and was abused by his stepmother. Her gentle demeanor, her kindness and loveliness triggered his desire to have her all to himself. He had even commissioned the construction of a human-sized golden cage so that he could keep the female lead by his side forever. 

Alessandro pouted. “But I don’t want to wait that long! Can’t you tell me now?”

You chuckled. “Good things come to those who wait, my dear. Believe it or not, being a grown-up can be hard in this big, scary world.”

“That’s impossible! Papa is super cool and can do so many things!”

“Yes, he is quite something, isn’t he? Now drink some tea or it will get cold.” 

What you did not realize at the time was that the duke had returned home early from work and went to search for you. The head maid had told him where you were, though the duke had not expected Alessandro to be with you in the garden. He heard what you said about him, and how you have come to accept that you will never be loved by him and it was not his son’s fault.  How affectionate you were with him, smiling and ruffling his hair while reminding him to pay attention to his arithmetic tutor because it was important for him to understand numbers because they were just as important as knowing all colors in a rainbow or which fork to use for salads. 

You had kept your promise to him. 

You did not demand his affections, prioritizing the duchy and his son’s wellbeing. You did not take any paramours nor spent more than the allowance you were given to shop for dresses and other accessories in the capital. You attended tea parties, and did not bring shame to his family name. You were a perfect wife. You were worthy.

Would you object to him spending time with his son as you do? Would you allow him to get close, to spoil you with gifts? Would you even consider the idea of giving Alessandro a younger sibling? It’s been too long, and he does have needs. 

Happy Mother's Day, guys~! :)

Taglist: @nunezs-stuff @imperfectbloodmoon @yandere-dark-cupid @aiimee9 @cassanderasblog @facelessfionna @ixchelhernandez4 @yourdoorisunlocked @faux-ecrivain @julietdelamare @reiivven @ghostdoodlen @persephone-kore-law @dreamlessnight @obsessedwithromance @f4turemom @pinkgoldweebgirl @yandere-writer-momo

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere fic #yandere oc #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere!duke #fem!reader #tw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive love #cw obsessive behavior #cw obsessive love #tw abuse mention #cw abuse mention

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

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