#And he was ready to risk the curse when it was just his life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

BuzzFeed published a report claiming that Tumblr was utilized as a distribution channel for Russian agents to influence American voting habits during the 2016 presidential election in Feb 2018.

#And he was ready to risk the curse when it was just his life

bejeweledblondie · 7 months

Text

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

5K notes · View notes

moondirti · 16 days

Text

kyle yearns for his captain's approval. you're the perfect medium through which he can secure it.

featuring: gaz x fem!reader x price. very consensual. fondling. inspection. fluff. praise kink. objectification. cucking? anal play. mentions of dp and breeding. 4k words of nonsense.

when price asks gaz if he's got anyone at home, gaz answers.

truthfully. he'd be hesitant to admit that he does to anyone else – soap especially, what with his track record of worming his way into people's pants – but his captain is... his captain. jonathan price. a real force of nature, cursed with an uncanny determinism and a habit of getting what he wants regardless of if those around him are willing. gaz knows that price will find out eventually; when the ring he's been planning to purchase for months finds it's way onto your finger, and he requests a change be made to the dependants section of his paperwork. perhaps before then too, if he really did some digging. but gaz also knows that, if there were anyone to trust with this precious knowledge, it'd be him.

so, he tells him about the little number he's got tucked away in a home in south oxfordshire. it's the lazy afternoon before a big mission, and he shouldn't be drinking but he is, a tumbler cradled between his palms and the burn of rye whiskey loosening his tongue. price doesn't speak, just listens, as the sergeant gradually devolves into more and more detail about your meeting, your courtship, the work you distract yourself with when he's not around. and despite his reverence, he admits it all breathlessly, a sheepishness pervading every word. how is he expected to keep his composure when the air is so heavy? unrelenting scrutiny and the potent waft of cigar-smoke draw a hot flush to his skin, the older man humming every so often as a prompt for him to continue.

he wants to, oddly enough. gaz is a reticent man, second only to ghost when it comes to keeping his life private. but something about this circumstance has him ready to lay it all bare. he wants to tell price about how you kiss his neck, the wicked fucking ways in which you use your mouth to milk him dry. he wants to pull out his phone, scroll through the hidden album full of pictures of your tits, of home-made films that paint you in a cum-covered, dazzling light. he wants price to know that he chose right, wants to hear the praise whispered in his ear as his captain lays a sturdy clap onto his back.

instead, he shrugs.

"not much more to tell, cap."

"damn shame." price taps his cigar to rid of the ashes. "sounds like a proper match, garrick. good for you."

and it's enough. a big enough lump of wood to keep the needy fire in his belly roaring. he shifts in his seat to dissuade the heat, rubbing his jaw in contemplation like he hasn't already thought of a perfect way to reap more.

"tell you what, sir. we survive this next assignment, i'll bring you over to meet 'er."

it's a hairbreadth escape, but they do manage to make it back alive, albeit a bit more scarred than they once were. gaz gets home late at night to find you awake, waiting on him despite the incredibly short notice he'd given you for his arrival. it's there – in the foyer, his nose buried in your neck as you babble on about how much you missed him, and what you'll make for breakfast to celebrate, and questions like hey, are you okay? that cut looks fresh or when was the last time you slept? – that he breaks the news. you'll be having his captain over for dinner in two week's time.

of course you're overjoyed. you've been begging to meet the people he risks his life with ever since he told you what he did for work. the planning is immediate. you're dumping recipes on him the next morning, asking for his opinion on what appetiser, main, and dessert your guest of honour would enjoy best. and what's his poison, anyway? i can get my hands on a nice bottle of scotch if you think it'd be worth it. kyle doesn't have the heart to tell you that nothing you'll do would matter much, that price has already taken a liking to you. besides, if anything, your homemaking ability makes him chub up in his pants. best not to rob himself of that delight.

the night arrives as quick as it had been put forward. gaz has to dodge your attempts to put a tie on him, stifles your complaints with a kiss and insists that it's not that kind of dinner party. you're confused (bless you) but flit around making last minute preparations in your bustier midi-dress anyway, kitten-heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. at a certain point, he can tell that you're fussing over nothing and pulls you by the hand to stand by the doorway with him.

"there's something i didn't mention earlier." he whispers when you're finally settled, tucking his index finger under your chin. your brows knit anxiously. he pecks the canyons between them, stroking your bottom lip until the frazzled energy bleeds from you.

"why would you wait? there's not enough t–"

"not exactly something you can plan for, doll. s'just gonna happen." when you fail to push him for more context, he sighs. "price is expecting to see you."

"sure... that's the whole point, isn't it?"

"no, sweetheart." gaz's free hand wraps around your waist, lowering until it reaches the plush sweel of your ass. his touch lays breadcrumbs for you to follow, leading you down the very depraved path he's trekked a million times the past few weeks. "i mean all of you."

your lips part in realization. oh. he's scared straight for a second, heart hammering like it always does when he reveals a darker fantasy to you. but you merely smile – anxious, sure, pupils clouded with fresh concern, but a smile nonetheless – and accept his admission gracefully.

"and you want me to let him?"

gaz nods. "if you'd please."

you place a chaste kiss on his cheek, careful not to smear your makeup onto his clean-shaven skin. "okay."

he visibly slackens, an edge of playfulness cutting it's way back into his tone. "what's say we take those panties off, make things easier when the time arrives?"

"can' remember the last time i had a beef welly this good, love. family recipe?"

"yes, actually! but it took me some time to perfect for my own. the original called for sherry in the duxelle, but i always thought wine was better suited."

kyle doesn't know if he's ever been more proud of you.

you're a vision. the paradigm of charm. he half feared things to would be awkward following your conversation at the doorway, but aside from the first few minutes of price's arrival – the time it took everyone to thaw the ice of unfamiliarity – you've been anything but stilted. in fact, he worries that you missed the true implication of his request – of the direction things will take later – given the way you laugh openly. the ease in which you bridge conversation topics. your attentiveness, eyes roving over both your boyfriend and his captain to ensure everyone has everything they need. you certainly don't act like a girl who's going to be nakedly appraised tonight. all the expected clumsiness, the stumbling over your own words, replaced instead by eloquence and quick wit.

sweet girl. bloody... beautiful, darling girl.

price seems to think so too. he chuckles heartily at the stories you offer of kyle failing learning to waterski during your anniversary trip to mauritius (and offers his own insight too, something along the lines of how you'd expect the sergeant to be better balanced, given he's survived hanging off a helicopter before). offers some solid advice on how to deal with the ostentatious coworker whose been bugging you for months. and when you question him about his personal life – a line every good soldier knows not to take with their CO, which has gaz wincing internally – all your guest offers is a genuine, crinkle-eye smile. no doubt appreciative of the non-intrusive manner you ask.

he shoots gaz a look before answering, and it's one full of tacky warmth. a look he's seen several times on the field, molasses sweet and satisfying, one that invades his private thoughts too often to admit. whose effect he knows only comes off in a cold shower, a quick pump to his cock if you're not around to help relieve it. something like approval. unspoken praise.

"wish i could say i've been blessed like the two of ya. married to my work, m'afraid."

"oh." you wave your arms, standing to clear the table of dirty plates. "don't be ridiculous, john. you're a wonderful man. put yourself out there and i'm sure it'll come to you." you say it like it's breathing, and just as easily prance away to the kitchen, your voice losing to the clatter of silverware in the sink. thus, when you yell out something about dessert (price is really only able to decipher i made madeira! over the illegible chorus of cabinets closing) kyle is the one to answer you. well-trained in untangling your voice from any sort of ruckus, poor cell reception and moans and drunk gibberish and the obstructive fabric of his hoodie when you sob into his chest.

"maybe later, doll!" he voices back, scratching the back of his neck as he takes in the food still laid out in front of them. picked apart by hungry forks but still, enough to make up days worth of leftovers.

"mm. the girl stuffed me full, garrick." price stretches from his seat. "if i didnt know any better, i'd reckon you lot were fattening me up to feast on me come winter."

gaz stores the remains of your meal into nearby tupperwares then follows suit, urging his captain to follow him into the lounge. "please," he laughs, nodding when the man pulls a cigar from his pocket and twists it in a silent question. "she thinks they starve us out there. tries to make up for it by feedin' me into oblivion when i'm home."

"speak for yourself. i could do with a home-cooked meal every now 'n' then." the captain takes a puff of the maduro between his fingers, lets the smoke cloud his hindbrain. your house smells so much like you, like kyle and you – warm laundry and anise and jasmine – that he feels a quick lick of guilt at ruining the fragile balance of it. too little too late, too – the scent of leather and oily spice pervades the space.

but you don't mention it once you waltz back in, smoothing your hands across the back of your dress. "if we don't get a chance to try the cake tonight, remind me to send you home with some, john." gaz poorly conceals his laugh with a cough, sinking into the cushion when you shoot him an offended look. "what?"

"nothing," he pouts, then hides his next words behind the back of his hand, whispering to price. "i told you."

"i can hear you, you twat!" you flick his ear, brows furrowed in faux irritation as your boyfriend wraps an arm around your legs.

"i know! hey– i know, gorgeous. was only joking." his forehead nudges your tummy, restless until you comb your hand over his tight curls. "th'captain knows that too. isn't that right, sir?"

"of course."

"you laugh now, but wait until you're halfway through a month long mission. you'll wish you had me around!"

"don't i know it." kyle murmurs, the fingers at the back of your thigh slowly creeping upward. the skirt of your dress slips, climbs up your legs with the motion of his forearm, and all too suddenly he remembers your lack of undergarments.

fuck. he almost forget he pocketed your panties. and you... you've been so natural, such a good hostess despite the cold brush of air constantly on your cunt. it flips a primal switch inside him – that same trigger that'd prompted mention of this night in the first place. blood rushes to his cock so fast it hurts, desperation flooding his lungs until the only thing he can breathe out is your name.

"hmmm." you smile in return. and if price weren't here, he'd bury his nose into the canyon between your legs and take a deep inhale of your natural musk.

but he is, and so all gaz can manage is a quiet: "how about you show the captain our little surprise?"

"oh?" the man in question hums. dangerously relaxed, two legs spread and his posture curved as he watches the little display you put on for him. "what's this about a surprise, then?"

you bite your lip, raking your nails down from your boyfriend's neck to his shoulder and placing a tight, reassuring squeeze there before breaking away. nothing is said as you push an ottoman between price's knees, making sure it's steady before pushing him to rest against the back of the couch.

"do you like my dress?" you practically purr, bending over as to pronounce your tits. kyle's breath stutters, watching for the way superior's eyes take in your form. gratification swells in his belly when he just smiles, patting your hip.

"s'that really a question that needs to be asked, lovie? you know the answer."

an adorable mix between a shrug and giggle is all you give. "kyle says you want to see me."

"aye. i do."

"and i wanna make him happy."

"same for me."

and kyle thinks he could just cum in his pants if this keeps up. he feels filthy, both an observer and the main act in this spectacle. the knowledge that his captain doesn't just want you, the love of his life, but him too works away at him, hollowing him out until he's nothing but a husk of docile yearning.

"so, what'll it be?" you say.

"turn around. elbows on the ottoman, knees on either side of my thighs."

you obey instantly, lamplight catching the heated flush of your skin while you position yourself according to price's wishes. your back arcs so that your ass is prominently within his view, plump even beneath the loose material of your dress.

"kyle."

"sir." he coughs, shifting to conspicuously adjust the aching mass tucked in his waistband.

"on your knees, son. righ' here beside me. when i ask a question, you're expected to answer."

"yes, sir."

"got tha' that, lovie?" he grunts. "respond now, and then it's silence from you."

"okay!" you wiggle your hips, forgetting yourself for a moment. "sir!"

this gaz can do. following orders. grounded pragmatism, however far this is from a professional setting. he figures price has gleaned as much, has given him this task so he doesn't flounder off track throughout the evening and ruin things for everyone. the hard part is over then, all of that hesitant foreplay – of opening up, getting you to agree, of the stretch of time it took for everyone to warm up to one another – wrapped up for something simpler.

all he has to worry about is answering promptly and correctly while he watches his captain–

flip your skirt over your hips.

a low whistle. then, two hands on your backside, kneading the soft flesh there. working either globe apart like dough, the glistening seam of your most private parts spread open to prying eyes. price appraises your cunt for the first time like he would a winning showdog, or the sky on a particularly pleasant day. all utilitarian-like. if it weren't for the bulge in his trousers, your boyfriend would almost be offended.

"no panties, hm?"

"no-" you start, squeaking out an apology when you earn a firm swat to your thigh.

"i asked her to go without them tonight. thought... you'd appreciate it, sir." kyle replies, swallowing the saliva that arises upon seeing your lips flutter.

"good lad." a hot flash of arousal breaks across his chest. the captain lets go of his grip on your ass, watching how the fat jiggles back into place, then returns to squeezing it. "surprised i couldn't smell 'er, way she was dancing around us all night."

it isn't a question, so gaz stays quiet.

the groping continues. sometimes its light – brushes of calloused palms across the area, disturbing the stillness like a rock skipping over water. you ripple when he pokes, shake when he taps. other times, and increasingly once price notes your resilience to pain, it borders on rough. moulding your flesh into compact pinches, jabbing his thumb into the softness so hard it'll bruise. you take it all with grace, a low whine building in your chest that he let's go unpunished.

"she's taking this well. you rough her up often?"

"when she asks, sir." he thinks for a moment, catching your wily smile from the corner of his eye. minx. "likes it more than i do giving it to her."

"need someone to take care of the both of ya." price chuckles, then moves on, oblivious to the way the sergeant's hips buck at his implication. or, maybe he notices – probably does – and stores it away for another time. "looks like a greedy little pussy to me." his thumbs hook onto either side of your labia, pulling it apart like fresh bed to reveal the sloppy mess between. your clit is enflamed, angry for being neglected for so long. if you were allowed to speak, kyle can guarantee with almost a hundred percent certainty that you'd be whining to be touched. "look a' tha'." price's accent grows thicker. "fat little thing just jumping for attention."

he curls a finger, then flicks the swollen bud. a loud moan bursts from you, your face falling between your forearms as you hold yourself back from begging. gaz would've acquiesced by now, would've rubbing the bundle of nerves raw the second you fanned your pretty lashes up at him.

but price snaps it three more times in rapid succession, which apparently is too much for you to handle because you yell. "p-please!"

he remedies your slip up with a slap to the same area. the crack on impact echoes long enough to tell him that one hurt. "shhh. so spoiled, sergeant. how often do you make her cum?"

"a-at least three times a go, sir."

"what's the record?"

"eight."

"and the longest you've held off?"

kyle hesitates, bowing his head for the reprimand he knows is coming. "never... never tried. sir."

"tch."

a precision blow. swift but petrifying. the captain's managed to find both your loose strings in a matter of minutes, tugging to see them come undone on his lap. gaz has got the unwavering urge to rest his chin on his strong thigh, put it on the record that he isn't weak willed, just indulgent. something that can be easily remedied, with his guidance. if he'd let him.

and you...

you're gyrating your hips, begging for some pressure on your aching centre. price gives it to you, though not in the way you expect, pinching your clit and tightening his hold until you're motionless, muscles trembling but otherwise perfectly poised.

so the inspection continues. he fans out your vulva, exposing the hole that clenches around nothing. a laugh wracks his frame at the sight, the aftermath of it husky. amused. "begging to be filled, a'right. how many cocks has she had in 'ere?"

"just mine, sir. and her toys."

"how about at once?"

kyle's never been so bold with you; has always held back that godless part of him, that needy dog he sees his comrades often embrace. pure, unfettered degeneracy. you're soft, and pretty and good and a high-functioning member of society. and he's never once wanted to see you hurt, uncomfortable or bite-mark-bloodied, despite the way his mind screams at him to at least ask. see if you'd be willing to appease that side of him.

yet you visibly shiver at the thought proposed by price, gooseflesh pocking your skin, and he knows he should have thrown caution to the wind.

"one, sir."

he watches the man's finger outline the circumference of your opening, dipping in by the millimetre to test the waters. "shame. could probably stretch her out. get 'er nice and loose for whenever you wan' something to keep you warm without the commitment."

the finger plunges in.

gaz watches you swallow his superior to the last knuckle in what must be a world-record, no time to blink lest he misses it. price goes with the motion, setting his free hand onto your ass to keep you steady as he wiggles his digit to make space amidst the tight embrace of your walls. or, that's what he thinks is happening. the only indication he has of things are the lewd squelches your cunt emits and the face of pure ecstasy you pull. but he's well-versed enough in your bodily functions that he's sure of his estimate.

"scratch wha' i said. nothing beats this." his superior groans, and for the first time that night, adjusts himself in his pants. kyle wishes he would pull it out, allow himself the relief of freeing a raging hard-on from its confines. but kyle also wishes that he could be given something to do, something with his mouth perhaps, to sate the unaddressed thrill in his bones. it wouldn't take a smart man to figure out that both wishes are very much correlated. "fucking suffocating clutch. wouldn' pull out if my life depended on it. pussy like this isn' made for that, garrick."

"sir?"

"you cum inside her, lad?"

"i- yes. i-i do. she's on birth control."

"best to see to that, then." he says, like the contraceptive is an obstacle and not a consolation. you release another, long-winded moan, to which price pulls his finger out to pat your vulva. like taming a wild animal. "though what i said still stands. could always do with a loose hole."

his hand inches up.

this time, it's gaz who groans.

loudly. his eyes fluttering halfway shut, hands tugging at the tight fabric over his groin. you throw a curious look over your shoulder, concern glossing your pupils until you confirm that the source of the sound isn't pain, but pleasure. ecstasy at finally having his wants vocalised, that incessant impulse that nags and nags and nags anytime he's fucking you from behind, tight rim practically leering up at him, tempting him to thrust upwards and 'accidentally' slip in.

"you like that, sergeant? hm? ever use this asshole? it looks unbroken to me."

"y-you're... not wrong, sir. i–"

"but you want to?" he finishes for him, scooping some of the abundant slick from your cunt and slathering it onto your back entrance. it's not enough lubrication to do anything but press one thumb in, but he repeats the process to push the other in alongside it.

"yeah."

you give him a look that can't mean anything except we'll talk about this later and he can bloody kiss price if he was given permission to, if not for anything but helping him open this impossible subject with you.

"we'll see to tha' some other day, then."

his thumbs retreat. your hole winks shut again. gaz is torn between looking at you or his captain, but the latter man robs him of the indecision by bringing his dominant index and middle fingers to his lips. they're shiny with the remnants of your fluids, as if he needed any incitement to wrap his mouth around the digits. he works at them until price's fingers prune, laving his tongue around the knuckles, against the nail beds, all the way through to the fold of skin between them.

so desperate to please, to see to it that 'some other day' is everyday henceforth.

a future with price by your sides. beyond just the field. the bite in your supple existence. spice supporting anise and jasmine, some aphrodisiac blend that'll carry you through to the end of your lives, happy. sated. a mediator. commander. captain. his captain.

"that's a good boy."

he could really get used to this.

#unedited!#this idea's been over my ass like a symbiote #cackling and rubbing its greedy little hands together #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader x john price #kyle 'gaz' garrick x reader #john price x reader #john price x kyle garrick #pricegaz #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #captain join price #john price #x reader #female reader #call of duty

1K notes · View notes

mrkis · 8 months

Text

[07:38]

mark is the type of person to panic when he runs out of condoms, ass naked on the bed as he shakes the box aggressively, praying that just one will appear and fall into the palm of his hand. he’d be feeling so angry that he could cry—brows furrowed, jaw clenched, nostrils flared and cheeks red. he’s so hard and sexually frustrated that it hurts and all he wants is for you to sit on his cock and fuck him until he can’t take it anymore.

he’s abt to give up, to throw the box to the side and excuse himself to go jerk off painfully in the shower until you tell him that it’s ok to fuck you raw this time. at first, mark declines. there’s no way he can do that. he can’t risk anything and as much as he would love to spend the rest of his life with you and start a family with you, he knows it’s too soon. he knows you’re both not ready..

but the thought of fucking you raw has mark’s cock throbbing, beads of precum bubbling at the tip. he thinks abt how you would feel around him and how the warmth of your pussy would probably make him cum so fast, emptying himself inside you and filling you up.

mark’s already throwing himself at you, spreading your legs apart to lay in between them, lips smothering yours in a heated and frantic kiss as he lines his cock at your pussy, body already shuddering as he presses his tip at your awaiting hole.

he would be a mess fucking you raw—incoherent babbles, cursing, whimpering in the crevice of your neck or against your lips, grunting every time you squeeze around him, whispers the filthiest words in your ear all while panting and whining at the feeling of his cock being sucked in by your warmth.

and when he fills you up, when he pulls back to watch his cum leak out of your pussy and drip to the sheets, how his fingers slowly reach out towards you to push his cum back inside, brushing past your puffy and abused folds… you’ve awoken something inside him. and mark will beg to never wear a condom again.

#mark lee smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #i might make this a full smut… might. yeah. definitely lol #i dreamt this and i need to relive it again orrrrrrr i will fight

3K notes · View notes

cactuscoolerr · 4 months

Text

⋆｡˚. on camera! - itoshi rin

• nsfw

• notes: this is completely based off of a twitter porn vid lol (´∀`) for some reason i watched it and immediately thought of rin.. so enjoy!

• (here’s the video link btw! (≧∀≦)) (pls watch)

rin doesn’t send nudes. he thinks it’s stupid, a waste of time, and a huge risk to his image in case it gets leaked somehow.

nothing could’ve gotten him to send, until you asked in that sweet voice of yours with those pretty eyes one night he was real tired after a long practice. he could hardly resist you after being away from you for nearly a month now. he was growing sick of only being able to see and talk to you through a stupid facetime call.

“i miss you so much, rin rin.. miss your cock and the way you fill me up..” your gentle pout was just enough to make rin cave. his heavy sigh sounded through your phone, making your heartbeat quicken.

rin watched you on his screen, squinting slightly before nodding. “fine. get some sleep and it’ll be sent to you by morning” he spoke, looking around his room to figure out how he’d even take nudes.

you giggled softly and blew a kiss at your screen. “i love you, rin rin” the adorable smile you held on your face melted rins heart. “get some sleep too, okay? i love you so much and don’t want you getting sick”

“fine. you too”

“okay..” you smiled and reached for your phone, angling it slightly upwards, giving rin a view of your tits held by the flimsy white tank top you wore to sleep. “i love you. talk in the morning?”

rin nodded, grabbing his phone with a sigh. “uh huh. love you, hun”

you sent a kiss towards your phone before hanging up and rin set his phone down, still trying to figure out the whole sending nudes thing. he tried remembering when you’d send him nudes. pictures of your gorgeous tits in your bra or a mirror selfie while you were dressed in the pretty lingerie rin bought you.

or even your ruined cunt and fucked out face after you fucked yourself on your favorite pretty pink dildo in front of the mirror in yours and rins shared bedroom.

rin nearly scowled at the thought. it almost seemed effortless, and here he was losing his mind over it.

he stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of his hotel room, glaring at himself for even agreeing to something so stupid. “cant believe i’m even doing this..” rin scowled, pushing his sweats down a little lower than he normally had them to show off just above where his semi hard cock began twitching to life.

phone in hand, rin contemplated taking the picture, his other hand awkwardly hanging at his side. he looked utterly stupid.

with a tired groan, rin dropped his phone on the countertop and stared at himself longer, pulling his sweats back up and going to lay down on his bed, giving up and ready to type out his apology to you.

though, instead of an apology, you woke up -very excitedly - to find a video that rin had sent you. before starting the video, you were met with the image of a body that you knew all too well. the room was dark, a faint light shining on his abs that showcased perfectly the water droplets, likely from his shower.

that alone was mouthwatering as you studied it more, seeing how it cut off right before his long cock was in view for you to see. you almost wanted to call him just to curse at him, though you figured watching the video first might be worth it.

immediately, you could tell that he was close to cumming. with the way his hand frantically moved up and down out of screen, it was obvious that he was growing desperate.

you watched his other hand glide across his body, something you knew made him insanely needy. his small gasps and groans infiltrated your ears, making your breathing grow heavy and your cunt clench around nothing.

the video continued and you pressed your thighs together, practically feeling his desperation to cum while your cunt grew wetter by the second. and you almost lost it when he gasped your name, moaning through soft breaths as his cum coated his delicious abs. you almost wished you were there to lick his cum off his skin, cleaning him off before kissing him to make him taste himself and how perfect he is.

“fuck..” you breathed out, restarting the video and slowly creeping your hand into your panties while propping up your phone to watch your boyfriend cum over and over again just for your pleasure.

#bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk headcanons #bllk smut #blue lock smut #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x you

2K notes · View notes

koocycle · 10 months

Text

over wine; chapter one (j.jk)

↳ synopsis. designer dresses, spa weekends and rare wines are no longer enough to keep your marriage afloat. with your husband gone from home and a marriage standing on shaky grounds, you stumble back to your neglected career in the hopes it’ll fulfill the void in your life. you’re ready to take the risk this time, whether that is with the emerald cut diamond around your ring finger, or without.

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

word count. 37.8k (it’s gotten out of hand)

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

warnings. mild cursing, alcohol consumption, suggestive and mature themes including the following: unprotected sex, spanking, choking, dom!jk, oral (f. receiving) mirror sex and car sex.

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist

one, two, three

author’s note. oh my god. to say i have written for a lifetime and got nothing in me anymore, would be an understatement. (kidding. i’ve got an entire series to finish) no but, to actually be able to finish this part of the series and publish it with pride is such a milestone for me. for over a year, i’ve been drafting and drafting, deleting documents and rewriting them, moving from concept to concept, pausing and swearing i’d never write another word again. really, i’m dramatic like that. and i want to take this little note as a thank you to @latetaektalk who’s been hearing me bitch over this for so long. who’s been reading draft after draft and even when she’s busy, was sulking about the fact that she was too busy to read it. but future doctors don’t read silly fics linh!!! they just scream whenever their friends scream and hop off to biology (?) class. i’m very thankful & proud.

OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the “reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen”, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘You might want to lose the attitude before she comes back.’’ It is the first thing your husband says that is directed towards you, breaking the tense silence like nails scraping against a chalkboard. There’s a large gap between the both of you on the rather firm sofa and the silence you grant him does little to calm either of you down. The two-seater isn’t a very broad piece of furniture on itself, though it seems bigger when each of you is seated at the opposite arms. Glued to them like teenagers who got into a fight in the lunch cafeteria in between classes. You watch Jungkook slump down his seat in the corner of your eye, an arm resting over the edge in a way that makes his Blancpain watch shimmer prettily around his thick wrist.

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

‘‘You know what I’m talking about.’’ He says flatly. Jungkook sounds like he couldn’t bother any less, but truth be told, the tight pause in his defense betrays him. His eyes fall to your folded arms and travel lower down your bare, crossed legs after. ‘‘You look like you don’t want to be here at all.” The Versace dress he got you hugs your hips just the way it’s supposed to and rides higher up your thigh with every minor movement you proceed to make. Ruby red polyester clashes with the neutrals in the room and you definitely seem like you don’t belong in such a formal setting, but fuck, he would have you bent over Mrs. Kang’s desk with your dress hunched around your waist if he weren’t supposed to be an angry fuck right now.

You scoff at his foolish accusation. “Please, Jungkook,” a humorless chuckle dies down on your tongue when you can’t find it in you to fake it. “I was the one who had to beg you to clear your schedule for today’s appointment in the first place.”

“Then act like it. Don’t just sit here and sulk.” He bites like he had his response ready and set. Sharp eyes meet yours. “You’re acting like a child, pouting like it’s gonna get us anywhere. Seulgi is here to help us sort our shit out. At least let her do her damn job.”

Jungkook’s head slowly lolls to the back of the ivory-colored sofa when it’s off his chest, a puff of air leaving his lips like today’s session got him exhausted before it could even make its start. His eyes fall to a close as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The sight of it only makes the tight knot in your stomach grow and you can’t seem to tear your eyes off the heated man, a snarl on your lips you wish he’d notice.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“And I told you, we’re not going through the hassle of finding another therapist when we got a fine one just under our nose.” Jungkook’s jaw tenses and he slumps down the sofa some more. “Give her time. She’s analyzing our relationship.”

His words trigger something inside you. They make you sit on the edge of your seat with heat rushing to your head, the Valentino Garavani mini bag falling off your lap and onto the cushions at the movement. “How much of an analysis does she need when we visit two times a week?” Your eyes fall on him. “Open your eyes, Kook. She always asks for my opinion and uses it against me a minute later. She is always on your side. We need a second opinion.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He mumbles to himself though he swears it’s for your own good. Also because the waiting area is only a door away and he doesn’t want to walk out of the heated office with judging eyes on him like last time. The walk of shame back to the car must have been the highlight of your visit. “I’m not gonna run around town and find you a straight, male therapist who’s blindly gonna agree with you the minute you flash him half a boob. Wasting our money like it’s nothing.”

Jungkook regrets saying that as soon as it’s out. He didn’t have to say that, he figures. Though when he’s met with silence and catches the roll of your eyes on his side, the pang of guilt disappears as soon as it came. You didn’t come here to argue here with him. Quite the opposite, considering your surroundings. Though it is getting hard to block that road when you aren’t one to bite your tongue either. “Of course you won’t. You love it when people suck on your dick.”

He should have seen that one coming. And he knows either one of you needs to stop barking back if you want to see any progress throughout your sessions with Mrs. Kang. Jungkook could be the bigger person if he wanted to be, but his egoism is rocket high. ‘‘Say that again?’’

You fall to the back of the sofa as well, mirroring him with your arms crossed tight against your chest. “Seulgi is sucking you dry and you’re eating it up.” You mutter with gritted teeth. “Always picking your side, always defending you…you’re loving it and you can’t get enough.”

Jungkook says nothing and just listens to your quiet, angry mumbles at first. To him, you’re almost whining the words out like it’s going to get you anywhere. And maybe it would if the circumstances would be any different. If you weren’t forced to kill time in an empty office waiting for your couple’s therapist to return with your preferred coffee and biscuits. Kang Seulgi knows the deal by now; you like your spiced chai latte and he likes his shot of espresso so bitter that it sits on his tongue for the rest of the session.

He continues to watch you. Examine you, in some way. The sound of your rambling drawing out the more he loses himself in his own world. Issues roll off your tongue like you’re reading them off a long, unending list, and he feels like you’ve argued about these same things over and over again. Too many times for him to keep his focus when your breasts are pressed together so prettily in that dress.

You’ve had it for a while, Jungkook then recalls. A couple of years at most, but he remembers the day he bought it for you like it was last week. Initially, you told him no; you didn’t need him to buy you a dress for a price so ridiculous. He could buy you an extra large salmon bagel for lunch and you’d be the happiest woman in the room, is what you tried to convince him of. Though your eyes glimmered with adoration the minute you entered the store and held the designer piece in your hands. Moments after swearing you only wanted to see it up close and get a good feel. He remembers loving that glimmer in your eyes.

He wanted to see it more often, so Jeon Jungkook got you that Versace dress like it was nothing. You yelled and shrieked at him through the entire checkout and earned some nasty glances from the saleswomen, but he didn’t mind. He could take a hit from you. If a simple swipe of his card meant he’d see that look more often, then yes, Jungkook was willing to sell his soul for you.

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

Today is one of the days where he makes you fume with steam. He can tell by the way you avoid his eye in the hopes you won’t go all feral on him. Or how your glossed lips pettily press together, the Dior Addict lip oil one step away in your lip-combo routine from cussing him out until your voice goes hoarse.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

It’s a thing you guys do, the finger-point thing. And it is something you do a lot. It’s a thing where either of you hopes that the other backs up when you point for long enough. A healthy relationship doesn’t work like that, is what Seulgi told you during your last session. As if you didn’t already know. But old habits are hard to get rid of, and certainly when it comes to you two, where someone else has to lose in order to win.

You didn’t think of her words as useful and made sure to voice the complaints about your newly found couple’s therapist the entire ride back home. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure what to do with your critical feedback. The entire session, he was just waiting for Seulgi to hand him that step-by-step handbook to a successful marriage, which he hoped was attached to her clipboard. But he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy for you even if she had it. Not with the amount of money he pays her per session. Because if we’re going to be honest, then no, Jungkook didn’t get Seulgi either. But he was willing to learn from her and understand her. Unlike you, who just sat there and might as well have filed and groomed your nails while you were at it.

Maybe you’re scared of whatever is yet to come, he ponders. Maybe you think you’re better off than whatever the future has planned out for you and Jungkook. He doesn’t know, and he can’t figure you out either.

‘‘I get it, okay?’’ He finally says, now at the edge of his seat as well. ‘‘It sucks to sit here and be confronted on issues that we can’t seem to work out ourselves, but we’re trying to crawl out of whatever hellhole this is. At least I am. Some cooperation would be appreciated.”

You don’t argue back as fast as he expects you to. ‘‘I’m trying, too.’’ You don’t stutter, you don’t fidget with your fingers and you sure as hell never break eye contact with the man. You never do when you defend yourself against your husband, and Jungkook has always admired how firm your feet are planted to the ground. Though when you’re wrong, then he’s the one who must be right. ‘‘She doesn’t fit our needs. Stick your head out of the sand and try to see what I see, Kook.’’

‘‘She doesn’t fit?’’ Jungkook’s brows pull together in frustration, defensively resting his palms on his inner thighs and causing his arms to crook. ‘‘What? Because we’re not a match or because you can’t stand it when you’re not winning?’’

‘‘What is this, the fucking Olympics?’’ You scowl, impulsively copying Jungkook’s defensive form. ‘‘I don’t need to win a damn thing. Look at where we got ourselves,’’ angry hands fly in the air and fall back down your lap with a loud slap. ‘‘We’re already losing with a therapist like her. You and I both.’’

‘‘You can’t just sit here and suck these theories out of your thumb, ___, we’re no kids no more. Stop acting like we know that woman,’’ Jungkook cries out, accusing finger-pointing your way. ‘‘You just can’t stand the fact that Seulgi is actually doing her damn job and isn’t blindly taking your side. Is it really that hard of a pill for you to swallow?’’

‘‘She’s blindly taking your side.’’ You spit back and your husband can only respond with a humorless chuckle, adding fuel to the fire. ‘‘The minute we step into this room, every fucking time, I’m painted as the clown. I’m the damn joke. Forced to listen to the way she’s putting you on a pedestal as she’s digging me deeper into the ground like there aren’t two sides of the story. Why is your first response telling me to shove it? You’re being a real asshole right now.’’

‘‘I never told you to shove it. Don’t put words in my mouth.’’ He attempts to say with a bit more composure but you can see the fire in his sharp eyes all the same way. Pierced lip curling in to hold himself back from saying all the wrong things. ‘‘I’m trying to be the rational one here.’’

‘‘Rational? You don’t need many words for it to be obvious.’’

‘‘Damn it, ___.’’ He curses and his fingers fall to rub at his temples, elbows digging into his thighs. You always got your word ready to spit back in his face. ‘‘Why don’t you just go home if you’re so unhappy? I’ll do this by myself if you’re really going to be this childish.’’

It feels like a slap in the face when his words work through, while it doesn’t sting and only seems to work you up with immense rage. Blood fast to rush to your head. You’re not sure what it is that’s keeping you from defending yourself. Knowing you, you’re not one to let accusations like these slide that easily, and neither is Jungkook. Maybe you expect him to apologize as far as your husband is able to. As long as his pride doesn’t tumble to the ground and shatters into pieces. You don’t know, maybe you expect him to at least take his word back while he looks you in the eye again.

It doesn’t surprise you when he doesn’t.

Jungkook’s head tilts when he hears the rumbling in your mini bag, watching your manicured hand dig through your belongings. ‘‘What are you looking for?’’

Your lips purse together again at the sound of his voice. ‘‘My phone,’’ you say shortly before you pull out the device. Long, almond-shaped stiletto’s tap against the screen and it is the only sound that’s creating much of a suspense. ‘‘To call a cab, I mean. You think I’m walking home in these heels?’’

‘‘Really?’’ he states more than he asks, sending him to the very edge. ‘‘You’re actually going home.’’

Your phone is already to your ear when you stand up from your spot on the sofa, Valentino Garavani falling in the crook of your arm as you straighten your dress. Heavy lidded eyes surf back to his dumbfounded state. ‘‘That’s what you told me to do?”

‘‘You know that’s not what I fucking wanted.’’ Jungkook scowls. ‘‘Seulgi’s gonna be back any minute now.’’

‘‘Good. Tell her I said hi.’’ And with those last bitter words slipping off your tongue, you leave him astonished in the luxury office with his hands reaching for his hair.

You’ve never been an easy one, Jungkook has been told by various people since the start of your relationship. But neither has he ever been a goody two shoes. Whether the both of you could handle each other, even after all these years of tough practice, might be a totally different story.

It was in college when Jungkook first realized he caught the most beautiful gem in the jeweler's inventory. Fresh into his first year as a finance major, entering his twenties and living life to the fullest in a brand new world that consisted of sex and alcoholic beverages to explore. Jungkook has always been a big dreamer, even back then. A real go-getter. One who used to scribble down achievable five-year plans at that marked page in his notebook, in that awful handwriting anybody could barely read. It was quite funny, considering you weren’t a part of the initial plan before you said yes to a single date with him. But when you finally became Jungkook’s girl to kiss, to fuck and to admire, he knew he could easily squeeze you in that plan. Jungkook wanted you for life. He knew so from the start. He was the one who dreamed of moving out of the city and into a large house in the beauties of suburbia, surrounded by a white picket fence, a little family and two guard dogs on the side. He wanted it all with you. You were his dream girl.

Jungkook was never one to shy away when it came to you. He was yours, and you were his. It was just the way it was supposed to be and everybody had the right to know. Jungkook was most proud to call you his when curious eyes easily swayed your way across campus. It happened every time you came to pick him up from class. Your perfectly pin-straight styled hair fell down your perfect face all the time, and the dark denim low waist jeans that stopped just beneath your pink, sparkling belly button piercing made anyone want to be with you, or be you. No in between. He loved how his hands fit so perfectly around your waist, on top of that_ Prada_ belt encircling your hips. But what he must have loved a little more, was how everyone’s eye shifted to the way he’d pull you chest against chest. He was all yours, and you were his. Everybody knew.

Seven years later, and things haven’t changed a bit.

Well, most of that.

The low waist jeans are replaced with the champagne-colored Celine dress which enhances your every curve, stopping mid-thigh. Jungkook is aware that each spouse, faithful or not, must have taken a second look your way. The rounding of your wine glass hides in your palm as the French Chardonnay in it sways back and forth with every minor hand movement you make. Eyes are on you. Subtle or not for whatever reason your neighbors might have to peek and mumble about, it doesn’t matter. Probably from every corner of Park Jimin’s pool party, too.

Even Jungkook can sense the air tighten around you when his large hand finds that familiar spot above the swell of your ass. This doesn’t feel like seven years ago, when you were mere college boyfriend and girlfriend, smothered all over each other like your time together was limited. The tension is here and fairly obvious.

“What are you guys chit chatting about?” He interjects your conversation with Kim Joohyun anyway. Kim Namjoon’s wife: the lady down the street you claimed to never really like. Something about her being too merry, and her collection of flowery sun hats you can’t bear to look at. Jungkook figures he does you a favor, but you don’t spare him a second glance even when his chest nearly bumps flat to your back. Which probably still has something to do with the incident back at Seulgi’s office.

“You, actually.” You say, a click on your tongue.

Jungkook grins cutely, dimples appear at the sound of it while his hand rubs in small circles at your back. “Oh? Good things only, I hope.”

‘‘___ was just telling me about your upcoming trip!’’ Joohyun shrieks, no ill intentions behind that wide, toothy smile of hers. You don’t even blame her for not noticing how Jungkook stills on your side. ‘‘Gotta say you have me jealous, Jungkook. A trip during this time of the year? Sounds lovely.’’

‘‘Well… not sure how jealous you should be. It’s just business,’’ he heaves a breathy chuckle as he pulls you closer to his side, the tugs at his lips awfully forced in front of your neighbor. ‘‘But you knew that,’’ Jungkook nudges your side even though you don’t put in the effort to lock eyes, so he just watches your face crumble. ‘‘You didn’t mention that?’’

Your brows pull together in question. ‘‘Why would I?’’ You ask as you’re fast to focus your attention back to Joohyun, thumb pointing his way for emphasis. ‘‘He’ll be gone for almost two months on a Caribbean cruise. Isn’t that enough to be jealous of?’’

Joohyun cackles along to your bitter chuckles, the wine in her glass nearly tipping over. ‘‘You had me at Caribbean.’’

‘‘It’s not a vacation.’’ Jungkook quickly defends himself, interrupting the laughter. ‘‘It’ll be less fun when I’m going to be stuck in conference rooms all day. Believe me, it’s really not that big of a deal.’’

You swirl your glass in your hand, teeth digging into your lower lip. The feel of his fingertips at your hipbone now becomes more prominent. ‘‘You only cared to inform me last week, so I’m sure it’s no biggie.’’ You say, voice laced with irony. ‘‘He’s leaving in two weeks, by the way.’’

It’s true. Jungkook didn’t care to mention a thing about the business trip until a week ago. On a random Thursday night with Chinese take-out served on the table and a glass of red wine on the side. You’ve never been upset over any of his trips in the past, so when you stared back at the flabbergasted man with pulled brows, chow mein stuffing your cheeks as another episode of Ugly Betty blared in the background, it came as a surprise. Why, he asked you, why is it so hard to keep you happy? And the question threw you off the edge, snapping something inside you didn’t know you were keeping in. A trip that would last nearly two months had to be planned in advance. Longer than a total of three weeks, that is. Jungkook must have known he’d be gone for a long time, and he didn’t even care to inform his wife.

Jungkook apologized the moment he saw the confusion shift into anger. Though the apology was rushed and spurted out in the heat of the moment. Maybe he did it because he didn’t want any wine stains spilling your loveseat with the way you gripped onto the glass so tight. Or maybe because he realized he wasn’t the owner of a newborn pup, a last-minute search up his sleeve for a sitter during his two-month cruise vacay.

It was probably the former.

Even Kim Joohyun in her tipsy state takes note of the tight air around your throat. She smiles a little and takes another sip of her Chardonnay as if she isn’t being obvious. ‘‘More wine, babe?’’ You turn to Jungkook. His glass is still half full when you take it from his grip, pushing past his shoulder.

A pout plays on Joohyun’s lips as Jungkook’s gaze stays on you until you’re out of sight. Sad eyes trying to meet Jungkook’s as he watches you disappear into the crowd. ‘‘She’s a lady. She’ll come around.’’ She cutely tries to reassure him, a light slap to his bicep with the back of her hand. ‘‘It’ll be over by the time you all reach 30. Trust me, Joon knows all about my shenanigans by now.’’

Jungkook fakes a laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes the same way. But that’s you, he thinks to himself. He knows it’s supposed to be a lighthearted, innocent joke, but Joohyun and Namjoon are only a couple years older than you two are, not even close to reaching their mid-30s. And ever since Jungkook moved into the neighborhood and has known his friends for, he’s seen the way they have never encountered a genuine threat to their relationship. Maybe you won’t ever come around, maybe Jungkook won’t either.

Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’

‘‘Most likely.’’ She carries on, apparently determined to lighten up the mood. ‘‘Isn’t that what Seulgi is there for?’’

Joohyun’s words spill off her lips before she gives herself the chance to comprehend them, not even waiting for an actual answer before she brings her glass back to her lips, painting yet another spot at the rim a bright, cherry red.

Rule 101 to a successful neighborhood-friendly party: don’t bring therapists into the conversation. Avoid at all costs!

It catches Jungkook’s attention as if alarm bells are going off. Wide eyes and usually perfect brows are suddenly a little less sharp than they were a minute ago. Kim Joohyun knows about the sessions with your couple’s therapist? Have you been going around town, casually rolling the topic into the conversation with a bunch of neighbors? Jungkook isn’t sure why he can feel his heart sink to the pit of his stomach at the thought of it, at the mere assumption. Maybe because this is something between you and him. Something so personal, so intimate and so damn private. There shouldn’t be a reason for you to allow people to dig their noses into your business. To put it out in the open without talking to him first.

‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’

Jungkook finds it in him to stay calm. Though curiosity gets the better of him when it becomes obvious in his voice. Joohyun stands tall on both of her feet when she hears it, lips parting into a slight O. ‘‘Oh well, I mean, yeah. We’re girl friends.’’ She casually says, and it makes him wonder how deep into detail you went with the woman. When she catches him clenching his jaw, her eyes grow big. ‘‘I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate. The last thing I wanted to do was pry!’’

Kim Joohyun is the neighborhood’s sweetheart, Jungkook knows she’s already drowning herself in guilt with only a single glance his way. This is not about her. And let it be a coincidence or not, but he has mastered his poker face ever since his first years in college. Seems like the skill came in handy after all. ‘‘Don’t be sorry, what have _you _done?’’ That is all he can manage to say for now. A silly, shammed smile on his lips though he doesn’t even wait for an answer.

You, on the other hand… you’re nothing like Kim Joohyun.

A heat of adrenaline rushes through him, and he swears it is not the wine that has gone through his system. No, it can’t be, because his mouth has gone dry while the Chardonnay Park Jimin poured him earlier had some sort of sweet aftertaste. It was one of the sweetest white wines he owned, is what the blonde man gushed about.

Without any other thought hazing his mind any further, Jungkook politely excuses himself to fetch off and find you. Like a hawk, he bumps shoulders with a couple strangers as he tries to scan the large backyard, until his eyes land on you. Seated at the pool chair by the water with the sun in your face, bare legs stretched and crossed as your Givenchy sunglasses sit on the tip of your nose. The two wine glasses from earlier are forgotten and disregarded at your side table. You seem disinterested in the ongoing party at your side, not really one to mingle with strangers in the dirty pool water. You’re not a shy woman, and Jungkook has always admired that about you. It’s just that you don’t always fit in with the rest of the neighborhood. But not once since you moved to the suburbs did you mind. Instead, it almost seems like you’re glad.

‘‘You’re blocking my sun, Kook.’’ You say as if it isn’t obvious when Jungkook comes to stand at the end of the chair, by your feet. Your glasses are tipped to the tip of your nose as you lock eyes with him.

‘‘My bad.’’ He grins cutely before sitting down at the edge, fully taking you in when your middle finger pushes the tinted glasses back to your bridge as you make yourself comfortable again. ‘‘Are you enjoying yourself, babe?’’ Jungkook questions sweetly, tatted hand reaching out to cup your inner thigh, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the soft skin.

“It’s okay.”

He hums. “Mhm, I can see that.” Gentle fingers drag across your hot skin but you don’t pay him much mind. There is no need for much eye contact when you’re closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair, hands intertwining on top of your stomach. He can tell you’re still upset about earlier, when Jungkook ignored your worries and encouraged you to leave Seulgi’s session. And yes, maybe he shouldn’t have done that. He is aware that maybe he had gone a little too far when he just let you walk out of there without sitting you down and letting you say your thing. Though you and him both know he wouldn’t push your buttons after pulling a stunt like that. ‘‘Look at me, love.’’ He says with a tight line of his lips. You broke a piece of his trust the moment you laid your relationship bare before a woman you barely know, and God knows who else you might have told.

You do as he tells you, but mainly because the pet name sits so strange on his tongue. Like there is a bite to it. And for some strange reason, the confused look on your beautiful face irks the fuck out of him. As if you never feared he’d find out you told some neighbor about something so personal. Like he wouldn’t get upset.

‘‘Care to tell me when you got so tight with Kim Joohyun?’’

You frown, lips pursing together. ‘‘Joohyun?’’

Jungkook wants to give you another bit to process the question, but you made him an impatient man. It’s a simple query, he thinks, and there is no need for him to elaborate any further. Though you seem on the slower side today, eyes half lidded through the dark brown lenses of your glasses, like you’re done with his bullshit for the week.

‘‘You know,’’ he pushes, nodding along. ‘‘When you had no issue letting her know the ins and outs of our relationship like you’re pulling off some Vogue interview type of shit.’’

‘‘Jungkook, what are you even saying?’’

‘‘The therapy, ___. The sessions, Seulgi—all of that shit.’’ He hisses, voice lowering even though the edge to it is just as sharp. ‘‘Why would you tell her?’’

It takes a moment before he watches the realization sink in. Jungkook’s eyes bore into yours and threatening flames swim in them, restlessly waiting for your word against his with his lips curled inwards and brows pulled together. You owlishly blink at him, stumbling on whatever you’re about to say next when he is looking at you like that, holding you under that microscope he’s had you on for years. Though it feels like it’s the first time he’s actually paying attention. At least now, after a long fucking time.

Jungkook is not one to easily feel small due to anyone’s actions, let it be his own mother and he wouldn’t dare to let his guard down. He is a true businessman at heart. At one point in his career, forceful assertiveness was an important skill that had to be drawn into his system in some way or another. Whether that’s considered a good quality or not, to Jeon Jungkook, financial manager of four years by now, it has always been reality.

‘‘You’re upset I told Joohyun about the therapy?’’ Qualities, skills and class. All of that thrown out of the window with a single look at those big, astonished eyes.

He returns them, all the same way. ‘‘Of course I’m gonna be upset. I mean, Kim Joohyun?’’ Jungkook scoffs loudly, having trouble keeping his voice down. ‘‘This is our fucking shit, ___. It’s none of her damn business.’’

His rage is working you up as you catch a couple heads eagerly turning your way. Negative attention is still attention, some say. ‘‘Can you keep your voice down? The whole neighborhood is here.’’

Here’s one thing: Jungkook can’t give a damn about any of them now. The chatter and mingles are done for, he’s over it today. It messes with his head; the fact that the first words that came from you weren’t a set of haste apologies. Call him self-centered, he doesn’t care. It’s all he intends to hear. ‘‘You should’ve discussed this with me before you went out to talk about our personal shit with others.’’ He lowers his voice anyway.

‘‘Discuss?’’ You ask quickly. “This is not some business ordeal, Jungkook. Am I not allowed to vent to someone?’’

‘‘I’m here. Right under your nose.’’ Jungkook argues, an angry finger digging into his chest. ‘‘Why won’t you vent to me? Why would you turn to people you barely know when you’ve got me?’’

‘‘You?’’ A humorless chuckle escapes you before you can hold onto the irony. ‘‘Sure, I’ve got you. For two full weeks before you leave for that damn trip–isn’t that a luxury? My relationship is going to shit and I don’t have a single friend in this town who would want to hear me out. But thank God I got you, the one who sends his wife home mid-therapy sessions.’’

Jungkook painfully pinches his brows together as he shoots daggers through your shades. ‘‘It doesn’t matter the circumstances, ___. You don’t just casually discuss that shit with people. It isn’t something to be fucking proud of.’’

You take the glasses off to get a better look at him. ‘‘You’re not actually upset, are you?” You ask, head tilting and gaze clouding. ‘‘God, it’s beyond me how much you care about these people’s opinions. It was just a harmless neighbor-to-neighbor talk with some woman down the street. What are you afraid is gonna happen next? Them throwing us off the Saturday night mini-golf game?’’

Irony. You’re a master at it, but Jungkook doesn’t seem amused by your humor. ‘‘You know what? Tell whoever the fuck you want.’’ He stands up from his seat. ‘‘If you’re unable to see the issue at hand then maybe you’re not even worth my damn time. Figure this shit out yourself, ___.’’

And with so much, Jungkook slips away in between bodies of people you don’t know. It leaves you unhinged in your seat, the sun gracefully falling down your skin again like you’re supposed to be enjoying it. Your head runs blank when you repeat the conversation, running around in circles when you recall all of the finger-pointing. All the looks of revulsion.

You’re not one to really care about other people’s opinions. You’ve never been and never will be, you swear. People will gossip about anyone to spice up their own lives anyway. There's the unemployed wife from number 09 who walks around town in designer mini-skirts with a diamond at her ring finger bigger than her own head. She’ll undoubtedly be a broad topic with many chapters for many. You let them talk. You don’t care. There is no point in caring what those low lives say about you. The grass on the other side of the white picket fence isn’t any brighter.

So when Kim Joohyun subtly warmed you up to the topic of unstable marriages, you saw no point in lying to her and telling her you couldn’t be happier. That you’re on cloud nine and that Jungkook is the type of partner you always dreamed of, that you are his ideal partner he’s been dreaming of. Because he isn’t, and neither are you. Yes, your marriage is going to shit and you’re trying to fix it. So what if the entire neighborhood knows? You might as well give those nosy Suburbans a reliable source to gossip from.

Jungkook has always cared. You know he has. Your husband cares about the way he’s perceived by strangers; you’ve seen it as long as you’ve known him. He’s never shy to show off the gold-coated jewelry that hangs off your neck, or the overpriced three-piece suits he’ll wear long after office hours. Of course Jungkook would go feral, you then realize. Jeon Jungkook is a flawless soul. God forbid he is dealing with an unhappy wife at home and a couple’s therapist to place the cherry on top.

The door softly thuds behind you as you get home, the loud keychains announcing your return to the big house instead of a sweetened hello. You catch the back of Jungkook’s head immediately, facing you as he’s seated at the dining table. The change in his clothes stands out. The laid-back blouse he wore at the pool party is replaced with a more formal, striped button-up with neutral colors and you wonder why he’d change into it if he’s working from home, where no one would see him. The brightness of his laptop screen hits his face and it makes you realize how fast the sun had set since he stormed off earlier. He must have been working ever since he came in.

You don’t care to take your heels off as you approach him, wanting him to hear the slow steps you take instead. ‘‘Would it really hurt Park Jimin if he offered his guests some snacks? It’s a pool party for God’s sake; people shouldn’t swim on an empty stomach,’’ you whine, making your way over.

‘‘You’re home late,’’ Jungkook mumbles, teeth grinding at your presence. His eyes are set on his laptop screen, a bunch of numbers you don’t care about filling his file.

‘‘I didn’t think it’d hurt if I stayed out a little longer.’’ You hum cutely. Hands come to rest on his broad shoulders before you gently start kneading the tense muscles. You watch from behind as his head tilts a little, not yet sparing you a glance and letting go of the cold shoulder but relaxing into the feel instead. “You and I could spend some time apart after that conversation we had, no?”

Your lips move to the shell of his ear just to accentuate the words even more. And instantly, it catches his attention. The fact that you’re addressing the issue at hand does wonders for him. Does this mean you’re ready to face the consequences of your actions and apologize like a grown adult? Jungkook’s fingers hover above his keyboard but come to a complete stop when he feels the wet kisses beneath his earlobe, traveling all the way down his jaw. Your fingers fumble to unbutton his blouse, manicured stilettos making the process even slower. And as fast as he fooled himself to believe you’d follow up to face your consequences, the quicker he averts his attention back to his file.

Sighing, he speaks. “Whatever you’re trying to do right now, it’s not working.”

You pissed him off. That much did you understand when he stormed off Park Jimin’s backyard and didn’t return to make any more small talk with any of your neighbors. That perfect, white-toothed smile gone and hidden in the safety of your four walls, where he didn’t give himself the time to unwind and went to work behind his laptop straight away. You know his ways by now. Jungkook is a workaholic, that much isn’t a secret. It’s a Sunday afternoon with bits and pieces of sunlight on every corner of the neighborhood, but Jeon Jungkook would rather spark an argument with his wife and work his ass off to distract himself after.

“Hm, what is it that I’m I trying to do?” You’re provoking him, hands traveling down south beneath the thin fabric of his unbuttoned blouse while you continue to leave sweet kisses at his jaw. Quietly, you move on to deeper spots of his silky, thick neck. A cute bite here and there. “I’m not doing anything.” Your nails gently scrape against his chest in need for attention and you know it’s working despite all his efforts to remain calm. You can feel the slightest hitch of a breath with the way your palms are pressed against him. He is holding back because he’s angry, but not on your watch.

“Cut it, ___.” Jungkook snaps even though you know you nearly got him hooked around your finger. No matter how many years you’ve known the man for, he is only a man. They’re the easy kind. “I’m working.”

“On the weekend? Don’t act so fussy babe,” You circle his chair, lingering fingers in the back of his neck with a big pout on your glossed lips. You lean against the edge of the table, ass planted next to his laptop. “You used to fuck me on and off business hours all the time. What changed?”

Jungkook leans back in his chair with a loud exhale through his nose. You’re playing a silly game and he can be just as witty. His hands intertwine and his head tilts as he locks a cold eye with you. The smug curve of your lips tells him everything he needs to know. A sharp brow rises. The familiar, cocky attitude telling you to continue your little act. Continue it and see what happens, is what he tells you.

You move on command, closing his laptop with a soft thud before you impatiently shove it to the side. Jungkook watches your every move like a hawk and you wouldn’t dare to break eye contact; you wouldn't lose to him. Straddling the man with a bare leg on either side of him, you make sure you’re seated just right as your heat hovers above his already growing bulge. He whines a little at the feel of it, ever so soft like he doesn’t want to give into you. “You used to hold me, just like this,” you whimper, ushering his large hands to sit at your hips where they tighten their grip, one of them quick to move to the swell of your ass and grab a handful. “You’d tease me, play with me,” another roll of your clothed heat against his sends a wave of relief through him. It’s slow, addicting. “You used to want me all the time.”

“I still want you.” Jungkook is fast to object. Eyes flickering down to the plumpness of your tinted lips and you waste no time in shutting him up when he does so. Your lips clash together like it’s second nature, perfectly in sync from the get-go like it is always that easy between you. Teeth clash and tongues dance like you’re desperate. You don’t stop until a tattooed hand reaches through your hair, gently make shifting your locks into a ponytail until he tightens his grip. Prying you away with a little more force than he‘s shown earlier. “But you fucking piss me off baby,”

He has you in his lock, gripping tighter onto the ponytail until you look down on him and that smug smile is wiped off your lips. “Do I?” You ask dumbly. You know you do. He knows you know.

“You do, but you don’t give a fuck, do you?” He questions with a closed-lipped smile. Jungkook’s free hand moves to hike your dress higher up your ass until it sits completely bare on top of him, one less layer until he can feel you. With the fresh air that is roaming through the house, you’re not given enough time to adjust to the new feeling against your bare skin when he spanks you once. Soothing the skin with a little graze after. “You think sex makes me forget about the way you can’t shut that tight little mouth? Hm? Always gotta complain about something.” Another spank. Through it all, you remain eye contact as you watch the fire swim through his gaze. “Not to me, though. To your little friends around the neighborhood, right?”

“No.”

“Hm, what was that?” He heard you, though he hums anyway.

“Just Joohyun.” You whimper in his grip, stopping yourself from rolling your hips into his when he grabs a handful of your flesh. “I only told Kim Joohyun from number 05. She doesn’t fucking care about you or me. Nobody fucking cares about us.”

His grip on your hair only tightens as you spew the words out, a delicious sting at your scalp. “Aren’t you sorry, baby?” He whispers with a sharp edge to it, spitting the words out like he doesn’t need an answer from you. Like he already knows the answer. “I’d be fucking sorry if I were you, because I’m yours. And you’re mine.” His lips press together, sharp eyes burning into yours. “And whatever the fuck is mine, I keep to myself. Don’t you think that’s rational?”

You nod, but it isn’t enough for him. “C’mon, babe. You were talking so much shit earlier, you can give me more than that.” He says.

“Yes, Kook. You’re right.” You whine out loud, “I’m sorry.”

Jungkook tilts his head cutely, intently peering back at you. “Sorry, for?”

“For talking shit about everything. The sessions, the therapy. I should’ve understood this is something between you and me.”

A smug smile paints his lips, seemingly pleased with your answer as he loosens his grip at your hair. “That’s my girl. Was that so hard now?” He asks sweetly, eyes softening and fingers continuing to travel through your locks, gently massaging your scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying the way you relax into his touch. “Go lay on that table and spread those legs for me.”

You shoot him a look even though the state between your legs worsens, pausing. “Jungkook, we eat at that table.”

“I told you to get on there, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice when he’s looking at you like that. Those dark, hazy and impatient eyes seem to bore into your skull until you do what he asks. The petty attitude you carried with pride is now long gone, lost in the heat of the moment as you climb onto the dining table before him, like a five-star buffet. Heels dig into the stool in between his legs and thighs clamp together as you lean back to observe him, testing to see how much longer you can push his buttons. He knows you’re trying to work him up because you’re great at it. He gave you seven years to master all your troublesome ways on him.

The corners of your mouth curl up to a sly and mischievous smile as your teeth dig into your lower lip. ‘‘You wanna play, baby?’’ Jungkook challenges, noticing the look you give him. He rises from his seat until he hovers over you with his broad shoulders. With your knees stay put against his chest, he quietly watches how you get down to lay your back flat against the table the closer he comes. Just the way he told you to. ‘‘Let’s play then,’’ he murmurs, his hands sliding up your bare legs, pausing at your thighs and gently tearing them apart until you’re spread out to his liking. Your breath hitches in your throat, back already curving off the surface of the table when Jungkook’s thumb grazes soft circles over your panties. The black-laced thong does little to block the sensation. He sighs heavily, breath fainting in the crook of your neck while his free arm supports his weight next to your head.

‘‘I don’t even know if you deserve to be fucked good.’’ Jungkook groans into your neck. There is no way he doesn’t feel the wet spot on your panties, not when his fingertips continue to feel you up and dig a little at where your hole is covered up. ‘‘What if I just,’’ he slips your thong aside, ‘‘…fucked this soaked pussy with my fingers, hm?’’

You can’t stop the whimper that leaves you when his thick middle finger teases a long strike down your folds. ‘‘Please, Jungkook.’’ You cry, nails scraping at his nape. ‘‘I want you.’’ Jungkook never fails you when it comes to sex. He knows your body like the back of his hand and no matter how shaky the ground underneath your feet might be, Jungkook will always be a passionate lover underneath the sheets. Some days, it might be all you can hold on to.

‘‘Yeah? You want so much, baby.’’ He continues to trail messy kisses down your throat, traveling lower until he reaches your hardened nipples. His free hand flicks it twice before he takes the sensitive bud in between his lips and starts sucking with no shame, teeth grazing with a slight sting. ‘‘And I give it all to you like an idiot, even when you don’t deserve it. What makes you think you deserve to feel good?’’

‘‘I apologized, Kook.’’ You defend yourself, heat pooling in your lower belly when his lips sink lower. Tasting every inch of you until he stops just above your begging heat. ‘‘Please, baby, right now I just… need you.’’

A low hum leaves him as if telling you he understands. With a single, last kiss does he finish off, hands sweetly running over your thighs like he’s thinking. “Let’s compromise.’’ He then says, looking up at you. “I’m eating this sweet pussy, but you don’t cum unless I tell you so.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Clear?’’

You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’

He only strikes you with a satisfied smile before he averts his focus. Large hands curl around the back of your thighs to keep you in place and the excitement rushes through you merely at the feeling. Your pussy is pulsing beneath him only at the thought of having him so close to you and it pushes his ego. “And I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Understand me?’’

“Yes, Kook,’’ you wail, feeling the impatience tug at you.

A desperate whimper cut short leaves your pretty lips when he pushes your panties aside again, this time until he’s able to fully expose your bare heat. You’re sensitive and a little swollen beneath him, eagerly awaiting his touch. That, or his lovemaking. He doesn’t know which one it is, but he is convinced it doesn’t matter. When he gets to watch you like this, so needy for his touch and desperate for his attention, then ultimately, Jungkook feels like he has won.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook needs to win petty games because it’s obvious you don’t need him like you used to. Some days you barely talk to each other, and others, you don’t even see each other. You fetch for yourself and so does your husband. No issue, he often tells his friends when they ask about your relationship and its rocky road. Part of life, it’s gonna cool off, is what he says. Though when he’s got you beneath him like this, moaning and whining his name in utter desperation, then yes, he remembers what it is like to be wanted by you. And yes, he needs to win that game.

“Always so perfect for me,’’ he mumbles more to himself than to you as he spreads your lips apart with two thick fingers. Blowing cool air directly on your drenched cunt, curious to see how sensitive you really are. And to say he’s pleased when he watches you flinch away with that cute little gasp coming from your throat, is an understatement. “Have you touched yourself since the last time I fucked you, baby?’’

He knows he has. Jungkook has thought of you in the shower, a door away from where you were sound asleep. Or on the downstairs sofa, the night you were out with a couple women down the block. And most embarrassingly of all, locked in one of the bathroom stalls at the office, when you were too angry over his late hours to give him a call back. He watches your face distort, trying to read whatever it is he expects you to say. “Be honest with me, there is no wrong answer.’’ He mellows, a single finger continuing to stroke your folds ever so gently.

“Yes…’’

He hums. “Yes, what?’’

“Yes, I touched myself since you last fucked me.’’

It’s been a long week since he last fucked you. Your husband had been busy preparing for his upcoming business trip, while you were upset with him for prioritizing work over your marriage. Both of you were angry with each other. Though, despite the high tensions, neither of you was willing to break the standoff by dropping your cold shoulder and making the first move. Until now. “What did you think of when you were touching yourself?’’ He asks you quietly, tip of his tongue slipping out to lick a bold stripe at your wet folds. “Was it my mouth?’’ It’s a gentle move at first, though Jungkook grows more focused on the sensitive bud of your clit when your little whines increase. Taking it in his mouth and sucking on it just to hear you stumble beneath him.

“Yes, I was thinking about your mouth on me,’’ you’re out of breath when you finally speak and Jungkook snickers into your heat at the fragile state he’s got you in. “Also your fingers, Kook.’’

“What about them?’’ He breaks free from your lips, thumb back at your clit and rubbing in sweet circles before you can comprehend it. “You imagined me fucking you with my fingers?’’ His other hand reaches down to play a little at your hole, teasing as a string of wetness attaches to his finger.

“Yes, Kook, please.’’ You groan out loud, ‘’I need you to fuck me.’’

His mouth is back on you as soon as the words come out. Little pools of saliva drip from his lip and fall onto your cunt until you’re a mess beneath him, rolling your hips into his face and growing desperate for some sort of release. Jungkook hums sternly with the bud in between his soft lips as a warning, the sensation of it pushing you even more off the edge. “You wanna be fucked, baby?’’ He asks you like it isn’t obvious in the way your face seems to glow with delight, eyes shut so tight and lips so pursed you might explode. “What is it? Your own fingers didn’t satisfy you?’’

A thick finger enters your slick fold just as his words get through. Curling inside your tight walls as his tongue flicks to make a return. “Need yours,’’ you cry, his tongue making circular motions onto your clit for as long as he feels you tighten around him, encouraging him to fasten the pace and make you cry on his tongue. “Yours always make me feel better.’’

“Hm, yeah?’’ He buzzes, eating your needy whines up. ‘’Pretty baby can’t make herself feel good so she needs me to do the job for her?’’ Your moans are like music to his ears, adding another finger to your tight warmth and fucking in and out of you until your moans aren’t recognizable anymore.

He pumps in and out of your warmth until you’re squirming beneath him, until he is satisfied with the sounds your cunt makes for him. Wetness coating his fingers as proof he is the only one out there who makes you feel this good. The only one who gets you to roll your eyes to the back of your head in absolute bliss. It sparks his ego, alright. Jungkook can’t stop the smile from spreading onto his lips when you grip his wrist tightly, holding onto him because his pace sends you to your high a little too quickly. He curls his fingers inside you once more, rubbing your sweet walls to remind you how much you need him to be yours.

“Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.’’ There is a layer of desperation he hasn’t heard in a while, and fuck, it is an addicting sound coming from you.

Jungkook’s tongue clicks at the roof of his mouth, tsking loudly. “We had a deal, baby. Want to remind me what we agreed on?’’ His fingers reach deeper into your pussy and he rolls his tongue more passionately onto your clit, his hot breath fanning over your skin as you try to run back on it. “Remind me, ___.’’

The stern tone throws you off guard and you might be imagining things, but you swear he fucks you a little harder the longer you stay quiet. “I can’t cum without your permission.’’

“See who listens if she tries a little?’’ He throws in a wink just to get to you, ‘’So we’re gonna be patient, aren’t we? You told me you could do it, ___. ’’

There it was. That sweet tone of his that always drives you off the edge. His eyes tease when they meet yours, something challenging gleaming in them as if he’s already won your little game. And with the way you squill when he rewards you with a particularly harsh suck at your sensitive clit, he might be closer to crossing the finishing line than you are. He knows that, too. Feels it in the way you fumble as you lay there, in the way your pussy clenches around his thick fingers.

“I can,” you defend yourself, although it doesn’t sound convincing. Not when you’re so out of breath.

Jungkook snickers at you like he’s amused. He finds it endearing how you’re trying so hard to remain calm underneath him. You’re so stubborn, so sure of yourself like he hasn’t known you for almost a decade. Like he hasn’t been given ten years to explore you, to know you from the inside out. And whether you forgot about it or not, there was a time when Jungkook read through you and you loved it. There was a time when you were his, and he was yours. A time when you wore that diamond around your finger with pride.

“Gonna miss this sweet pussy when I’m gone.” He’s talking about his trip. But you don’t want to hear about it, and he knows. He sees it in the way your face crumbles and the sighs of pleasure turn into ones of distress. Jungkook reaches up to you, two fingers still buried to the hilt until he hovers above you. The warmth radiating off his chest is addictive no matter how many times you’d deny it. He locks your lips with his in a swift motion, dancing together like you weren’t shooting lasers at each other earlier today. A lewd moan leaves you when he bites down your bottom lip, the sensational sting holding on to it even when his teeth let go. “Are you gonna miss me?”

I miss you every day, is what lies at the tip of your tongue. Though you realize it sounds a bit too sentimental for the current state of your relationship you find yourselves in. So you opt to respond with beats of silence instead. You figure it wouldn’t complicate things. It breaks his heart a little when his answer is filled with only the sound of his fingers pumping in and out your pussy, but he knows he isn’t one to dwell. “I’ll bring you something pretty back.’’

You figured he would bring something exquisite back with him. It is just the way he does things. Always bringing something pretty back home and never returning from his trips empty-handed. Jimmy Choo high heels, Prada mini handbags, you name it—he has a knack for finding you the most coveted items. Though right now, you don’t care about any of that. All you want is him, there is no need to offer much else. The thought of his embrace, the way his touch sets your body on fire, it was once enough to fill you with a longing. A craving only he can satisfy. Not some luxury item he’s pulling off his sleeve.

You hold Jungkook’s cheeks to draw him nearer, at a loss for words. You haven’t gotten much to tell him, after all. His warm breath grazes your lips and you’re sure he feels the same thing, eyes flickering from your dark gaze, back to your lips as his fingers slow down. “Jungkook,” you whimper, shivers sending down your spine when he rubs your walls so deliciously slowly. “Make me cum, please.” You beg, silenced by the way his lips meet yours in a fiery, passionate kiss that leaves you a little breathless. He tastes like white wine and sweets, the flavors melting on your tongue in a sensual tango as your fingers run through his perfect locks, pulling him closer as your breaths become ragged.

“You want me, baby?” His lips are swollen when he breaks free, needing confirmation. He hates that he can’t go without.

“So bad,” you tell him, nails sweetly scraping at his jaw when his fingers are buried deep to the knuckles. “Want to cum on your fingers.”

It’s all he needed to hear to be satisfied, the smug smile on his lips dying to make an appearance when you whimper beneath him like you do. “Come for me, princess.” He orders sweetly, a toothy grin lingering as his hot breath falls down your face. “Make me a mess on my fingers.”

You comply gracefully, without needing him to ask twice. As a wave of pleasure pulses through your body, the knot in your lower abdomen unravels, causing your back to arch off the table and your thighs to clamp together until Jungkook’s torso blocks them from doing so. He watches intently, observing the way your jaw drops and your lips part ever so slightly, noticing the crease that form between your eyebrows as your eyes squeeze shut. He wants to preserve this image, to savor it in the recesses of his mind, even when he’s halfway across the world and separated from you.

Your breathing slows down until you come down from your high. Jungkook’s fingers gently slip out of your cunt before they cup your warmth one last time, sweetly spreading your wetness over your folds until he’s satisfied enough and you can’t seem to take any more of his touch, even if they are minor and gentle. You make a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with him, even though he seems to be pleading with his gaze. He keeps his eye fixed on the side of your face as you drift off, the weight of your breaths gradually easing until the tension between you suddenly tightens. His chest above you becomes a little less warm, and you become a little more cold. Some sort of emptiness arises, both of you can feel it.

Moments ago, you couldn’t even tell him you’d miss him in return. And despite the fact that you might not miss him back, he would much rather have you spew out that little white lie in the heat of the moment than have you stay silent the way you did. It would spare his feelings a little, he wouldn’t mind. But even after your glow died down and the initial rush subsided, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. You know your relationship is, and has never been solely based on sex; that much was evident from the beginning. So why are you acting as if it is?

“You don’t gotta.’’ He says simply, not wanting to elaborate much further as the issue at hand becomes more apparent, becoming clear to him. However, for you, he doesn’t have a clue what is going through your mind. But for him, the problem nags at him to the point where he can’t find it in him to come up with a solution. Where he doesn’t necessarily want to find one.

You stare back at him with big, puzzled eyes. “I don’t mind.’’ You shrug, hands falling limp on your sides. “Do you?’’

You observe as Jungkook’s lips purse together and his eyes start to wander around the room as if looking for something fascinating. He shifts his weight to one leg as his hands slide into his pockets. “Yeah,’’ he mumbles in a low voice with a frown, no indication of humor on his face.

You wait for him to provide an explanation. Maybe he’s simply worn from today’s events and wants to head to bed early. To go upstairs and take a long, hot shower after he worked his ass off behind that screen. It was only last week when Seulgi brought the topic of sex to the table, at first suggesting you’d attempt to see each other more often during the day. Maybe go out for lunch together during his breaks, or have breakfast together before he takes off.

No way, Jungkook told her then. Breakfast, lunch and dinner are spent behind his laptop screen and it’d be impossible to shift around the schedule, let alone picking you up and bringing you back home by the time his break ends.

You’d have to find the time some way or another if you want this to work, she said. Try having more sex, she then suggested, attempt to rekindle that spark that brought you together in the first place through more intimate, private methods and connect to each other in your most vulnerable ways. Intimacy can help reignite the passion in some relationships, is what she tried to convince you of.

A bunch of crap, you swear. Two hundred bucks an hour for advice you could’ve found at the back of some middle-aged gossip magazine? Not when he has an obvious hard one hiding in his pants and rejects you like he has better things to do than to _“reignite the passion you share that has brought you together.’’ _

Especially when you haven’t fucked ever since that day.

Jungkook’s lack of response speaks volumes, leaving you feeling frustrated and disrespected. If he doesn’t want to fuck you, he could just say so.

Screw him and screw Kang Seulgi. You refuse to settle for a partner who rejects your advances, or a therapist with shallow suggestions. You deserve a partner who is willing to put in the effort to keep the spark alive in your relationship, and not just dismiss your needs with a simple swipe of his card at Seulgi’s office.

The week continues much like the way you and Jungkook prefer to handle things—tons of escapism and much less communication than is probably needed. In your defense, your husband will leave the country in a little over a week, and all the issues you could address and possibly solve now would still be forgotten and buried by the time he travels back home. It’s pointless, you think. You figure there just isn’t much to talk about in such short amount of time, and Jungkook must think something similar; it is evident in the way your backs face each other every night of the week, the way he eats dinner at the dining table in the living room while you do it at the kitchen counter, the way either of you can barely look at each other for longer than a few seconds. Your pride is too high to break through your walls.

Car rides have never been this dreadful before.

It is only when Jungkook stops in front of a red light that manages to steal a glance at you in the passenger’s seat. His demeanor stays cool, with his tattooed hand on the wheel as he sits back and takes the opportunity to observe you. His inked sleeve is on display, with his dress shirt rolled up all the way up to his elbows, although he is required to cover up in mere moments before you arrive at the business event that got you so dolled up, surrounded by tens of his colleagues.

You’re typing away on your phone screen on his side. Long, almond shaped nails tapping against the device as if you’re setting several emergency meetings up for the upcoming hour.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | So, you haven’t had sex in over a week? He didn’t want to at all?

You | I don’t know what it is that he wants. He doesn’t fucking talk.

Kim Joohyun no. 5 | Maybe he’s relieving it somewhere else. Any big fights gone on between you two recently?

The text causes you to pause. You look up, looking a little puzzled with the way eyebrows furrow. Jungkook catches on quickly, meeting your eye for a split second before you tear your eyes back to your tiny screen. You’re not sure what Joohyun is implying and neither do you care enough to know. You may make Jungkook out for a lot of things a lot of the time, but you know there is one thing he is not.

You | You better not say what I think you’re saying. Lol.

Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.

The implication pisses you off as you let your phone fall to your lap, arms folding over another. He watches as you’re visibly bothered, instantly recognizing that look on your face because he has seen it a dozen times already. The pursed, glossed lips and the clenched jaw, it’s a classic. Jungkook isn’t sure who pissed you off to the point where you’re not even arguing with him, but he doubts you’ll tell him. His eyes are on you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him. Instead, you remain silent, your annoyance palpable in the air.

Jungkook clears his throat, ‘‘Is something wrong?’’ He speaks over the radio, a careful start.

You can’t help it. You’ve been with the man for almost a decade, and sure, not always has it been pretty, but somehow it has worked. Maybe it was your first mistake to tell Kim Joohyun about the therapy sessions and the whole Kang Seulgi issue at hand, but you needed an outlet. Something close to a friend who would listen to you since Jungkook was always out of the house. Now you’re stuck with random people implying your husband doesn’t need your sex, that he’s fine finding it someplace else. You so dearly hope you misunderstood her, because your heart pounds a little faster, chest grows a little tighter.

Your head lolls to the backrest of your seat as you take a deep breath, eyes set on the scenery outside. ‘‘It’s just something Joohyun said,’’ you finally say. The sky above you paints an array of pinks and purples, a beautiful sight if only you weren’t feeling so sour right now.

Jungkook nods like he understands, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as his head softly nods along to the music at the radio. ‘‘I see. Do you want to talk about it?’’

The words throw you off guard. You can’t help but stare back as he looks at you with a patient, and rather relaxed demeanor. You can’t recall the last time where either of you suggested to talk. It must’ve been a long time. It’s rare, that is. You shake your head slowly, swallowing before your head falls back to your seat. ‘‘No, it’s nothing,’’ you murmur, eyes back out of the window.

He clicks his tongue softly. ‘‘Alright. If you say so,’’ Jungkook says, quick to dismiss the offer, and something inside of you wishes he pushed a little further. Moments of silence continue to fill the car, with the only sound coming from the radio and the soft hum of the car’s engine. ‘‘You like the dress?’’ He reaches out to lower the volume, eyes scanning down your body, where the simple, strapless silhouette of the Valentino mini dress hugs your curves so charmingly. Worn as a vision of elegance with the way you do it, he knew you’d like it too.

‘‘I do. Thank you.’’ You say, only now having the chance to thank him for the luxury item you found on the kitchen counter this morning, just like Jungkook’s text told you where to find it. The message didn’t say much, just that the dress was there and that he’d pick you up straight after work for the business event he was invited to. You got the hint, styled the dress with some jewelry that matched the rich, ivory white fabric and you picked out your prettiest heels. The Jimmy Choo ones with the bow that you knew Jungkook loved so much. You’re not sure how long it took for you to get ready, maybe an hour or two tops, but you know you took your time. Maybe because you wanted to look pretty for him, knowing he probably wanted to see you in the dress if he bought it for you.

His eyes travel to your legs, also leaning back in his seat as his foot hovers over the gas pedal, the car humming as it moves forward a little. ‘‘Thought everybody should see you in it tonight.”

Reality rushes back to you, then. Jungkook doesn’t care about you _or _the dress. Your husband only cares about the way the both of you will be perceived tonight. By his colleagues, by his friends and by his acquaintances. Yes, you’re looking stunning tonight. Your hair sits flawlessly and your legs have never looked sexier before. But what does that matter when he can’t proudly put his arm around you and call you his?

The light turns green and he tears his eyes off you, back to the road. ‘‘But I hope you get to smile a little more by the time we’re there.’’

There’s an attitude to the statement, leaving you a little in awe. ‘‘I don’t really feel like smiling,’’ you declare, arms folded. It’s a sassy response, one he catches on to instantly and you know it, considering the way he side-eyes you from behind the wheel. The glances he throws your way burning at your head.

‘‘I don’t need you acting petty, ___.’’ He chuckles, though there is no humor to it. ‘‘I know we’ve got a lot of our own shit to worry about, but we don’t need any of that tonight. Please,’’ he adds, ‘‘just be there with your head.’’

You feel a surge of anger rising inside you at his words. How dare he tell you how to feel and how to act? You take a deep breath, voice already shaking from the way he works you up. ‘‘So you want me to pretend all is good in front of everyone? Because you know it isn’t.’’

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he presses the pedal a bit harder, grip tightening around the wheel. ‘‘I’m asking you to keep it down,’’ he argues, ‘‘there’s no need for us to be mixing business with private matters in front of these people–it doesn’t concern them. We can talk about everything else later, I just want to get through with it for tonight.’’

You scoff. ‘‘Funny you say that, considering we haven’t exchanged a word all week.’’

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second before focusing back on the road. ‘‘Not now, ___.’’ He insists, ‘‘I promise we can talk about anything you want the minute we’re back home, just not now.’’

‘‘Now you just need me to be perfect. Got it.’’

His grip on the wheel tightens even more, the tension radiating off him. You never make the effort to try and understand him. ‘‘You know that’s not what I’m asking,’’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘‘All I want from you is to act professional. It’s not the time or the place for this shit, ___. We can deal with everything else later.’’

You don’t agree but keep it to yourself just to save either of your energy. The rest of the ride is quiet, but far from peaceful. It takes not much longer than twenty dreadful minutes before you arrive at the grand hotel as you waste no time getting the hell out of Jungkook’s Benz to breathe some fresh air, dusting some imaginary dirt off the ends of your dress while your mini bag hangs in the crook of your arm. The valet rushes to your sides, taking care of his car keys before Jungkook leads the two of you inside with his large hand burnt to your lower back. It takes everything to keep yourself sane, to not rip his touch off you as he sends his prettiest, most charming smiles to people you only know the faces of.

The dimmed lobby is bustling with people as you make your entrance, all dressed up in their finest attire and sipping on champagne while chatting amongst themselves. The night passes uneventfully, with the occasional surge of excitement as the guests mingle and socialize. You’re grateful for the attentive staff, who makes sure your glass is full throughout the night. Mainly sticking by Jungkook’s side with champagne as your only friend, an arm looping around his own as you lean into him and fall back into your own world.

New colleagues of his stumble in left and right, and you admire your husband’s ability to remember each of their names and faces. You, on the other hand, stopped keeping track of whoever stands before you. You figured it is easier to become the wife Jungkook wants to represent you when you keep your mouth shut and merely stand there looking pretty. Designer dripping off you as your hand caresses over his chest in circles with a sweet, dimpled smile on your face.

‘‘I would’ve worn my fancy tie if you told me your girlfriend was this beautiful, Jeon,’’ a rough, low voice interrupts. ‘‘You know, the one that lightens up when you press the button.’’

Before you stand an older couple, their eyes crinkling with sweet wrinkles and sparkling with warmth the minute you lock eyes with them. They mirror you, where their arms loop together and move in perfect sync. Jungkook chuckles on your side, cute apples of his cheeks making an appearance. ‘‘Mr. and Mrs. Choi,’’ he exclaims, moving to place his hand just above the swell of your ass before pulling you closer into him, though his touch leaves a chill in its wake. ‘‘I take it you haven’t met my wife yet.’’

‘‘Oh, dear Lord,’’ the woman known as Mrs. Choi squeals as she gladly takes your hand in hers. Hers are warm and embrace yours gently, only now knowing you sipped a bit too much champagne when the movement throws you off guard. “I keep insisting that Jungkook needs to bring you to the office so I can meet this pretty face but he won’t budge,” she says, keeping your hand warm in between hers. “Now I get why he wants to keep you to himself—you’re a doll.”

You snicker a little at the comment, feeling the champagne flush at your cheeks at the older lady’s words. Jungkook’s thumb runs in small circles at your hip. “Isn’t she?” He speaks, softly pulling you towards him. “Why would I share with anyone?”

The Choi couple share smiles of delight, visibly over the moon when Jungkook pulls you closer to his side and plants a sweet kiss on your temple. “A married man,” Mr. Choi sighs with fondness in his eyes, hands gesturing your way as if to say look at you. “I wouldn’t have known for the love of God, son. It’s wonderful to witness young love well and alive.”

Jungkook wears his prettiest smile, obviously enjoying the way Mr. and Mrs. Choi worship at his feet. He takes your free hand in his own before he pulls it up for a showcase, the shining diamond around your ring finger glinstering beneath the warm lights. “We mark 7 years this season.” He seems proud as he speaks, the close lipped smile telling them all they need to know.

Mrs. Choi holds an exaggerated hand to her chest, eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry. “You must be so proud of him,” she glows when she speaks to you. “You’ve got the office’s heartthrob in your hold, dear. I can guarantee you he’s taking that award home tonight.”

“Businessman of the Year!” Mr. Choi exclaims with theatrical hands, fading away before you. “I can see it, kid. The title looks good on you.”

“Oh, I won’t assume anything.” Jungkook snickers on your side, pretty dimples visible when he smiles. “I don’t intend on winning tonight. I’ve got strong competitors to see eye to eye.”

It’s not that you’re not proud of all that Jungkook has accomplished, but the bitter smile returns and is barely perceptible. You doubt anyone notices. Hell, Jungkook’s pride seems to consume him, too far gone to notice you straying away in his warm hold. It astounds you how his colleagues seem to put him on a pedestal, quite literally worshiping the ground he walks on and hanging onto every word he says.

“They got nothing on you.” Mrs. Choi argues with a light scoff before her toothy smile returns. “But I get it. Who wants to win some trivial award when you already got your hands on the most beautiful gem in the room, right?” She throws the compliment your way, a wink thrown in there but your stomach tightens at the words all the same.

Jungkook’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes searching for a connection that seems elusive. “You know, we’re all so consumed by the road to success that we sometimes don’t realize what we already got,” he begins, eyes back at the Choi couple when you refuse to look back at him. “If tonight ends without that award, I’d be more than content to celebrate with just the two of us. Just like we always have done—years on end.”

“That’s what love is about.” Mrs. Choi nods with a tilted head like she understands. Like you and Jungkook will go home tonight and make love with butterflies in the pit of your stomach, hearts fluttering with anticipation, and a sense of triumph in the air. She probably wouldn’t smile so wide if she knew the ground you’re standing on is not so solid. “And that’s why good things come your way, Jungkook. You do everything with so much dedication and love, you should be proud of yourself.”

“It’s true.” Mr. Choi interjects, nodding sagely as he extends a wise finger. “Take that well-deserved promotion for example. It didn’t appear out of thin air, son. You’ve worked hard to earn it.”

You still on Jungkook’s side and he can feel it in an instant. He feels your eyes on him, a piercing gaze that cuts through the chatter of the lobby. His sharp brows furrow slightly as he senses your scrutiny. His voice, tinged with a mix of anticipation and apprehension breaks the silence, hopefully able to remove that big question mark off your forehead. ‘‘Yes, the promotion,’’ He begins, now avoiding your eyes as his fingers loosen at your hip. ‘‘I suppose you’re right, Mr. Choi.’’

Mrs. Choi’s cheerful demeanor suddenly falters, replaced by concern etched onto her face. “Are you feeling alright, dear?’’ She asks you, her voice filled with genuine worry. ‘‘It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You don’t spare Mrs. Choi a single glance when she puts the focus on you, practically forcing Jungkook to lock eyes with you. Your eyes bore into his, your attention solely on Jungkook and his bewildered state. “Promotion, huh?” You say, voice tinged with a touch of resentment. The bitter tone doesn’t go unnoticed. “Funny how you never mentioned anything about a promotion, Jungkook.”

He hesitates, his hand retracting slowly, an obvious gesture of unease. “Well… it was meant to be a surprise,” He pulls out of his ass, a reassuring smile aimed at the elderly couple who already seem remorseful for bringing the topic up, apologetic smiles on their faces. “To be honest, it isn’t that big of a deal anyways. Just a small step up the corporate ladder.”

‘‘A small step up the ladder?’’ You repeat a little louder than you mean to, voice dripping with disappointment. You turn to fully face him, back turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Choi when you do your best to speak through gritted teeth. “I’m not stupid, Jungkook. I know exactly what a promotion entails.”

The room seems to hold its breath, the tension palpable as the air grows heavy with unspoken words and unaddressed grievances. The once-glowing atmosphere now feels suffocating, the sense of disconnect between you and Jungkook impossible to ignore. The weight of your words fall heavy on the tip of your tongue and your eyes tell him that you’re becoming furious, the fire in your eyes burning with an intensity that can’t be contained. How dare he? You’re hanging on to this relationship with every fiber in your body and what does he think is the solution to that? Adding hours to his already demanding contract while you continue to plan more sessions with Kang Seulgi?

Jeon Jungkook’s audacity is truly unbelievable. How could he be so blind to the problems that you’re already trying to tame? He chuckles quietly, devoid of any genuine humor. His eyes dart around the room, scanning for any sign of anyone else besides the Choi couple taking note of the tension. ‘‘I was going to tell you, it’s just that nothing is final yet. I haven’t signed anything,’’ he stammers, attempting to justify him keeping this from you.

‘‘But you were going to.’’ You snarl, jabbing an accusing finger digging into his chest. ‘’Do you even realize what you’re doing, Jungkook? It’s not a matter of when. It’s the fact that you’d do it in a heartbeat, not even taking us into consideration like any decent partner would.’’

‘‘Sweetheart,’’ Mrs. Choi’s tries to interject, voice filled with concern. ‘‘I’m sure he just wanted the moment to be special,’’ Her well-intentioned effort to comfort you falls on deaf ears with a dismissive wave of your hand. You’re not sure if you can take any more of this bullshit tonight, the surge of resentment is swelling within you.

‘‘Please, excuse us,’’ Jungkook says with a forced smile, gently pushing you forward by the small of your back, signaling you’d better walk if you want to talk some more. And walk you do, your arms crossed tightly and lips pressed into a thin line, leading the way out of the sea of people chatting about God knows what.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook gets held up again. You don’t recognize the face of the taller man who approaches him, and neither are you interested in his being, though the blood rushes to your head when Jungkook starts talking back with that familiar sweet smile. He searches for your eye over the taller man’s shoulder, making sure you’re still there before his polite, charming grin paints his lips again like nothing is wrong. Like you aren’t ready to lose each other.

You make a beeline to the bathroom the moment you realize it. And for just a moment, you find solace from the suffocating air outside the restroom. It happens the moment you lock the door and cover your bare neck in cold tap water, the reflection in the mirror staring back at you as it seems to hit you like a train. You don’t know if you and Jungkook will ever be okay. It might be the alcohol in your system, but the tears that form in the corners of your eyes threaten to escape. It’s difficult to hold them back, but you do it somehow. You wonder if there’s any hope left over, or if this promotion is just another confirmation of his growing distance, a subtle way of telling you there’s little left over to salvage.

Three quiet knocks tap against the bathroom door. ‘‘___, it’s me,’’ his voice booms from the other side and you take a moment to recollect yourself. When you look at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, tears still hang in the corners of your eyes if you pay a little attention and your throat falls dry. “Open up?” He shouldn’t see you like this. You don’t remember the last time Jungkook has seen you cry; the last time he’s seen you vulnerable.

‘‘I need a moment, Jungkook,’’ you reply, shuffling around the small space.

There’s a brief pause before he speaks again, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. ‘‘Please, just let me in. We gotta talk.’’

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of facing him now feels overwhelming. Back there, amidst the crowd of unfamiliar faces, you felt as if you could explode. Steam blowing out of your ears, blood rushing to your head. But right here, in this confined space, it’s just you and him. Your eyes are slightly glossy and your lips anxiously curl inwards. You don’t know what’s coming over you. You’d much rather have him see you angry, with your head held high.

With a heavy sigh, you turn the lock, leaving the door ajar just wide enough so you can see his face. The tight purse of his lips eases when he takes in your appearance, and you swear you can see a glimmer of softness in his eyes. A flat, tattooed hand gently pushes the door open before he enters with his hands tucked in the pockets of his dress pants. Your fingers curl over the edge of the sink when you stumble back and lean against it, watching as he closes the door behind him and locks it.

Silence hangs heavily in the air, overtaking you. Neither of you can help it. There’s nothing to bicker about when it seems like you’re at the verge of breaking down, so silence it is. ‘‘Then talk,’’ you say, voice distant. ‘‘You’re not talking. You said we needed to.’’

Jungkook’s gaze flickers with something you can’t place. You hope it has something to do with regret and determination. He takes a step closer, closing the space between you. ‘‘What happened out there,’’ he starts, voice quiet when a finger points towards the door. ‘‘It was unnecessary, ___.’’

You shouldn’t have opened that door for him like a fool, expecting he wouldn’t spit in your face like that. You don’t know what it is you want him to tell you, but for some reason, you yearn for something that sounds like an apology. You stare into his eyes, searching for any sign of sincerity. ‘‘You waltz in here like that and that’s the first thing you say? Cut me some slack, Jungkook, please,’’

His jaw tenses, a sign of growing frustration. ‘‘___, we had a deal. No business mixing with whatever problems we have. Not tonight… not when tonight is supposed to be special.’’ Jungkook quietly reminds you, taking another step closer until your chests almost touch. ‘‘And as for the promotion,’’ he sighs heavily, his hand tugging at his tie with a frustrated huff. ‘‘I was going to tell you when it was just you and me–just us, away from all of these people. That was going to be our damn moment.’’ Jungkook spits, teeth grinding together as his brows furrow. ‘‘They had no business opening their mouths on it, but they did anyway. So if you want to be mad, then fine, do your thing. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this, but you did.’’

The small room feels suffocating, tension building with each passing second. Your tears are long forgotten every time he opens that big mouth of his, because the anger seems to consume you. ‘‘I don’t fucking care about any of that,’’ you scoff, pushing yourself off the edge of the sink with a head held high. Now you’re the one stepping closer. ‘‘It’s the idea that you would even accept all those extra hours and responsibilities when you know,’’ there is a heavy pause for you to catch your breath, a finger digging so deep in his chest it makes him stumble back a step. ‘‘When you know what is going to happen to us if you take this.’’

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his own frustration surfacing. ‘‘And what’s happening?’’ He retorts, his voice filled with defiance. ‘‘How can you expect me to turn an opportunity like this down when I’ve worked so hard for it? I worked my ass off for this, proved my fucking worth and ended up deserving it. I haven’t even reached the age of 30 and chances like these don’t just appear out of thin air, ___. I’ve got colleagues twice my age trying to achieve what is waiting for me to grasp.’’

The intensity of the argument rises, voices echoing off the walls and you’re sure people passing on the outside hear every word. You scoff, a humorless laugh escapes you. ‘‘So this is all about your precious career, isn’t it?’’ You hold up your hand, where your wedding ring catches his eye. ‘‘You made me a promise, too. Long ago, before you knew any of those people you’re trying to prove your worth to.’’

Jungkook’s face flushes with frustration, his hands clenched into fists before they settle at your hips and shoves you back until you’re leaned against the sink again. Though not too harsh. He is never too harsh. ‘‘Why can you never be satisfied?’’ He mumbles, anger giving way to hurt. ‘‘This is my chance to provide for us, to make sure we have a future that we deserve living. Why won’t you support me, be by my fucking side?’’

Bitter laughter escapes your lips, almost grazing his own. ‘‘Support you? How can I support you when you’re digging us deeper into the ground? We’re already so close to reaching the fucking limits. So close to becoming everything we’re trying not to be and then you continue on to pull this crap? It’s like you’re waiting for us to call it quits.”

Jungkook’s anger simmers beneath the surface, his grip on your hips tightening as he fully closes the distance between your bodies. His dark, sharp gaze is fixed on you, the air between you crackling with tension at the false accusation. A blend of frustration and desire when you meet his intense gaze, the moment overwhelming you, and without a word, he closes the distance between you, crashing his lips against yours in a passionate, fiery kiss.

The kiss is fueled by a mix of anger and desire, the electricity between you undeniable. Each touch and movement speaks volumes, conveying a complex blend of emotions that words fail to express. As your lips move against his, you can feel the weight of the argument still hanging in the air, but for a moment, it's forgotten. Until he speaks against you. ‘‘That’s the last time you’re gonna accuse me of something so ridiculous. Got it?’’

Between heated kisses, angry whispers escape your lips. "You can't just expect me to follow blindly," you mutter, your voice laced with frustration. "We're too close to the edge already."

Jungkook’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, his voice husky as he responds. ‘‘I know, but I’m trying.’’

It is all he says, and you fight the urge to say something back just because you feel like you’ve had enough for one night. You’re the one to pull away first, a flat hand to his hard chest as you push him off with ease, no fight, no nothing. The momentary connection fades and a sense of unease settles between you. You exchange a final gaze, unresolved emotions and unspoken words clear in the air. It’s obvious that the underlying issue remains unresolved, and with that, you both walk out of the ladies’ room together. Side by side, like everything is fine. The bitter taste of the argument still hangs onto your tongues but you choose to ignore it even though there is no way you can get rid of it tonight.

Jungkook stops before the bustling crowd, causing you to stop in your tracks as well. His hand delves into the inner pocket of his jack, retrieving his wallet as he goes through the contents. With a subdued voice, he offers you his card. ‘‘Here,’’ he says quietly. ‘‘Go buy yourself something to drink. I’ll be over there talking to some people if you need me.’’

You accept the money silently, a slight nod of acknowledgement before you part ways, heading toward the bar while Jungkook navigates through the crowd. As you order your drink, the bitterness of the argument still weighs on your mind, the unresolved issues swirling in your thoughts.

Your husband hasn’t spared you much of a second glance after he handed you the money, already too busy mingling with his colleagues to notice that the bottom of your cocktail glass is starting to show. As he brings his own glass back to his pretty lips to sip on his dry wine all the way on the other side of the lobby, you continue to listen to the nameless people around you and the award he might be winning tonight. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—it might drive you crazy.

It drives you crazy, and you would probably never admit it out loud, but you feel smaller without Jungkook’s presence so close to you, without his arm secured around your waist, your chest tighter than he seems to realize. You don’t need him to feel confident, you know. You don’t need any man in order to make you feel secure about yourself. Though tonight, even though it is only for a little while, his absence feels a little more pronounced than usual, and you don’t like to feel like some fraught, single woman in her late 20s. It unsettles you, and you don’t mean to feel like it.

You’re counting fifteen minutes when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long. Jungkook seems to be in his element, watching as you occasionally meet his eye from across the room before he rips his gaze off you, interrupted by another coworker every two minutes as they block your sight. More small talk with the man of the night as he’s sucking it up like second nature. Adoring the constant praises he’s receiving throughout the entire event. A charming smile paints his features, one that makes him look smug as hell.

“That dress makes up for the fact that you look like you don’t want to be found dead in here.” A low voice booms from behind the bar, “Valentino, no?”

The rim of the cocktail glass in your hand detaches from your lips when you realize you’re being spoken to, another spot painted a smoked almond shade at the edge. “Good eye,” you nod, high heels impatiently tapping against the steel of the barstool. It’s the first interaction since the Choi couple took notice of your distress, and suddenly, you feel a little less invincible. .

“I know a thing or two.” The owner of the velvety voice reveals himself, emerging from behind the massive camera cradled in his veiny hands. Smooth, jet black curls cascade over his forehead as a troublesome grin broadens on the unknown’s glistening lips. He briefly catches your eye before shifting his focus back to the display in his grip. Rounding the bar, he comes to sit at the edge of the stool next to you. “You seem to be a natural. Ever thought of a career shift and dropping this business ordeal?”

The picture on the display reveals. It’s not bad, you look greater than any other night, the effort you put in tonight’s look clear to see. But he’s joking, though you can barely crack a smile. “Oh, please, I’m just a plus one.”

“I see.” The man who you now assume to be tonight’s cameraman leans over the edge of the bar as he allows his camera to hang low at his neck. He subtly searches for your eye and when you meet his gaze, indicating that he’s got your attention, he pulls his focus back to the crowd, a finger beneath his nose as if he’s deep in thought. “So, which one of those pricks is responsible for making you sit here by yourself all night?”

You roll your eyes but a suppressed snicker betrays your amusement, prompting the corners of his own mouth to lift as well. Shaking your head, you choose to ignore the derogatory remark about your husband, though it might feel good if someone else would openly share your sentiments right now. “The same prick I’ve been with for the past six years,” you point Jungkook’s way when you speak, leaning a little more to the man’s side to give a good point of view. “He’s a busy guy,” you remark, Jungkook looking devilishly expensive when he’s networking, his navy blue Prada suit shimmering beneath the dim lightning. His jet black hair is slicked back and he’s never looked sexier before. Such a shame you’re not talking.

“The man of the night himself.” The guy huffs at your side, back leaning against the bar as he’s no longer interested in Jungkook, eye solely on you now. “I’m not really supposed to shoot plus ones tonight, he’d have to be in the picture for that,” he taps at his camera. “A shame he’s too busy to bat an eye when she’s looking this lovely tonight.”

A dagger to the heart, but you take it lightly. You pause as you finally take a good look into this sharp, cat-like gaze of his. A sly looking smile tugs at the corners of his lips when your eyes meet. “Complimenting a married woman? How audacious of you.”

He shrugs indifferently. “He isn’t doing it, so,” he says nonchalantly before he pulls himself together, a polite hand to his chest when he speaks. “Pardon me. It’s just that I’ve never been good at keeping thoughts to myself.”

You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”

He catches on to the challenge that’s hidden in your voice, the slight attitude you’re subtly bringing over. He pauses for a moment, reading your face before he continues. “Yeah,” he confirms quietly, though his voice is low enough to recall mischief. His eyes lower a little down your dress before he takes out his hand. “Kim Taehyung. I’m tonight’s photographer.”

You accept his hand, hot and tight around your own. It feels refreshing in some way or another, his eyes locking with yours again when his head tilts just slightly, tongue slipping out to wet his pink lips. “It’s good to meet you,” You tell him, returning your prettiest smile, “I’m ___.”

Taehyung stills. “God damn.” He curses quietly, just a whisper above his breath. “I knew you had to be from someplace else—you’re one of Minnie’s girls.”

His words take time to process. There is only one Minnie you’d know. “You mean, Minnie Chang?” You query, frowning when his knowing finger bounces your way. “My modeling agent? You know her?”

“Sure,” he beams, shoulders visibly relaxing as he sits at the edge of his seat. “I run shoots with Minnie’s girls all the time. We just wrapped up an upcoming November issue. It’s such a pity she never sets me up to shoot your covers, we use your references all the time.” His sharp eyes darken, running down your figure again. “We’d kill the job together, if you’d ask me.”

Your cheeks flush a little at the statement. “Oh, well, we probably would.” You stumble, still trying to catch on. “Though Minnie no longer works for me. I quit modeling some time ago, which is probably why we never worked together.”

Taehyung’s pretty lips part when his head tilts even more, a light and humorless chuckle escaping. “I mean, do tell me you’re screwing with me.” The smile ghosts his lips, though this time a little died down. Your silence answers his questions and the sheepish grin only adds on to it. “Forgive me for being so straightforward, but I’ve seen your works, ___. No one in their right mind would want to give such potential up for some mingling on the side bar.”

Taehyung jokes again but there’s a bit of truth hidden in it, and neither of you dare to laugh too loudly over it. You sigh, bringing the glass back to your lips even though your drink is almost finished. “You’d be surprised what love does to people.” You chuckle but it holds no humor, you just sound so ironic. Taehyung’s eyes rip away from you to scan the lobby in search for the man in question, easily found in the sea of people because Jeon Jungkook just works like that. Wherever he goes, your husband seems to carry this magnetism with him. People fall in love with him left and right, and you don’t blame them for it. Look at where you are. “I wanted to go wherever he went. Now I’m just trying to live up to the consequences.”

Taehyung hears as you try to laugh it off, chuckling softly and unable to match your energy. “I’ll give you my card,” he then decides, digging into the inner pocket of his jacket as a set of protests already stumble off your lips. “No buts,” he warns. “My office line is on there. Do whatever you want with it, but just know that you can always hit my line whenever you’re done dealing with the consequences.”

“Taehyung,” you start but it holds no weight, watching as he nips the piece of paper in between his fingers. “You don’t gotta do that.” His eyes draw back to your lips before they flicker back to meet your gaze, the curly locks at his forehead almost preventing you from doing so, seemingly darkening his eyes.

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be anything big, ___.” His voice lowers, deepening as his breath almost fans your cheeks. It’s hot. A little alarming. “I own a studio downtown where we could meet up someday. I’ll shoot us a couple photos, and if you want, we could add some to your portfolio. If it feels right, you’ll know,” he says, clearly catching on to the glint in your eyes. “If it doesn’t, then all I am is wrong. But you can’t convince me you’re feeling content, sitting on the sidebar waiting for that idiot to come to his senses.”

You know Taehyung just earned himself a slap across the cheek for the degrading comments about Jungkook. For the assumptions he’s so quick to make when he’s met you five minutes ago. Probably no less than a hard push against the shoulder too, but you hold back from doing so when his words speak to you in some way. Somewhere not so deep down, you know Taehyung made some points. It has nothing to do with the rich cologne that embraces you when he stands this close, or the darkened gaze that tries to meet your own when you rip your eyes away.

“Take it.” He waves his card in the air before he gently tosses it at the bar in front, next to your empty glass. “I don’t expect you to do anything with it, but it’d feel good knowing you have it. Who knows what good it’ll bring.”

You don’t hesitate but pause anyway, meeting his eye and the moment that famous grin paints his lips, you can’t stop yourself from copying it. “Thank you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.” You say, taking his card.

It surprises you how at ease Taehyung makes you feel afterwards. Once his card is out of sight, hidden in the safety of your handbag, he doesn’t pry further about any more modeling shoots or your forgotten career. Nor does he bring Jungkook up again, even though everyone else around you can’t seem to shut up about the man. It’s a peaceful feeling, distracted from the eye of reality because of this man who excels at making small talk. He’s chatting away about his camera, pointing at elements you don’t know the names of as he explains the functions of them.

You don’t listen. You haven’t been listening for a while and wonder how you stumbled upon this topic instead. It’s not a bad thing; Kim Taehyung makes you feel comfortable and that’s all there is to it. You appreciate him for fading your surroundings off.

It doesn't take long before a large hand rests above the swell of your ass, stroking sweet circles there. “Are you ready? They’ll start presenting the awards soon.” Jungkook’s voice booms at your left, sending a jolt of surprise through your body. You turn to face him, finding him standing there with his usual confident demeanor, contrasting with the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The touch of his hand on your backside feels a little more possessive the longer you take your time to respond.

You glance over at Taehyung, who also seems to have noticed the change of atmosphere. His expression remains composed, a hint of curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m ready,” you say before you hop off the barstool and recollect yourself. “It was so good meeting you, Taehyung. I hope we get to talking soon.” You slide your mini bag over your shoulder, an apologetic smile at your lips. “I’m sorry for keeping you so occupied, I know you’re on the clock.”

His lips only curl into a warm smile that seems to reassure you, a small shake of his head shrugging you off as if to say you shouldn’t have to worry. Your attention reverts back to Jungkook, noting that his gaze is already fixed on you as he searches for something you can’t decipher. “Okay, I’m ready,” you repeat, this time a little more determined. He nods quietly, hand curling at your waist before he leads you the way towards the ceremony, eager to be gone, but not before he steals a look at the older man by the bar, tongue in his cheek. A hint of playful defiance glimmers in Taehyung’s eyes and Jungkook wouldn’t know for the love of God what it means.

The following hour ends up not being as dreadful as the previous ones. Jungkook still guides you throughout the night with prolonged small talk and half-filled champagne glasses which you’ve grown tired of drinking. Nobody is paying attention to the wife of, much to your luck, because it gives you the opportunity to slip into your own world with Jungkook’s hand still snaked around your waist. Taehyung’s words ghost your head instead, and as much as you try not to, you sneak a glance his way every now and then.

You can’t help it. It’s been some time since someone recognized you as anybody else than Mrs. Jeon Jungkook. The lucky one who gets to wear designer dresses and expensive jewelry with a zipped mouth on her face. The brief minutes spent with Taehyung were cut short, but reminded you of your own persona. So hidden behind the shadows of Jungkook’s success that you almost forgot you once had built the start up of a successful career as well.

You can’t think in this room. The warm air is rising to your head and all you can hear is the low murmurs of Jungkook and his colleagues at your table. You start to wonder things. Big things. Like, what if Taehyung wasn’t the only person who believed in continuing the neglected modeling career you were so desperate to let go of some time ago? What if he wasn’t the only one and you’re just meant to find the right people to support you? What if that dream was worth pursuing, now still, after all this time accepting this is what your life was going to be like; a bitter housewife in the suburbs forever holding on to a forgotten career.

“Everything okay?” Jungkook queries on your side, eyes lingering on you for too long and you don’t care to return it. His hand travels to your upper thigh beneath the table cloth but you barely process it, head too clouded with whatever you’re worrying about to take notice. “You seem distracted.” He says, his large hand resting there without much thought, warming the skin up as he gently starts rubbing in circles.

“Yes,” you say though there is a pause to it, one where you hold your breath as you wonder if you should say more. You know he doesn’t like it when things start getting personal when all these people surround you, but you’re so close to the edge. You turn to him, knees touching. “I just need some fresh air. Hand me the car keys?”

He stares at you for a moment, a look shared that tells you he’s trying to read you even when you’re shutting him out. An arm lazily rests atop the backrest of your chair as he sighs through his nose. “They’re starting soon.” He breathes out like he hasn’t said it a thousand times already. “And you’ve been drinking. I’m not handing you anything.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not drunk and I’m not driving. I’m just gonna sit in the car and take a moment for myself.” it’s your turn to sigh, a bite to your words that Jungkook easily catches on to. His eyes narrow, lips growing into a thin line. “What is it, are you not allowing me?”

His chest grows tight when he hears your words, the sassy attitude not gone by dismissed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Can’t you take half an hour longer?” His voice lowers in case anyone overhears, the back of his fingers reaching to stroke over your cheek softly. “Batting those pretty lashes the way you do it so well?”

His comment flies to your head, hitting you like a slap to the face and you search his eyes for some sort of sincerity. Some sort of remorse for spitting that degrading shit in your face like that. You notice the way people perceive you as the wife of Jeon, how they look at you because you’re just one of his pretty things. You’re aware. And you don’t need anyone to tell you, because you could care less about them. Though when the confirmation slips from Jungkook’s lips, you swear he turns the switch inside you.

“You’re an ass.” The feet of your chair screech loudly against the floor tiles of the lobby, the sound of it making heads turn your way with curious gazes. And unlike your husband, who seems troubled upon the sudden attention, you couldn’t care less, storming out of the quiet lobby like your Jimmy Choo heels are meant for you to stomp off the way you do.

You hear a faint call of your name even though it doesn’t take long before you reach the main entrance doors and fumble your way out. The anger rises to your head and you consider you might have done Jungkook a favor with the way you made it out so quickly.

It takes a couple minutes before the swinging doors you just erupted from come to a loud shut once more, revealing a heated Jungkook sauntering down the stairs. “Get moving. You were the one who wanted to go home,” He doesn’t spare you another glance when he passes you by with a pinched expression. Both your jackets hang from his arm but he doesn’t care to hand you yours, quick to rush to his Benz with you right behind him.

The only sound that fills the air is the angry stomping of your feet, Jungkook’s not as prominent as your own heels clack loudly against the pavement. “I just needed a minute out. I never said you couldn’t finish your little act in there,” you retort, frustration lacing your voice.

He opts to ignore your remark at first, jaw set and focus straight ahead. Though the more he repeats your words in the back of his head, the faster his own spill out. “I asked you not to throw a scene and you go ahead and do it anyway,” he sneers, unlocking the back door before he throws your coats on the backseats. Slamming it just as loud. “For what, ___? Couldn’t stand not being the center of attention for one night so you pull this shit?”

Jungkook is fast to open the door to the driver’s seat but you beat him to it. Slamming his door back shut only to earn one of his lethal, disturbed looks. “You take that back.” You point an accusing finger his way, trapping yourself between his hovering body and the car. “For years, I’ve been tagging along to these stupid events like some luxury piece on the side. Supporting and loving you from behind your huge ego,” you huff, a pillow of air rushing from your lips and into the icy air. “All the while you choose to show me off whenever you feel like it when I’ve been happier for you than anyone in there—’’

“Have you?” His lips curl inwards, sharp eyebrows tightening. “Because the second you heard about some promotion, a couple more hours added to my contract, you start freaking out. Running out there like the world revolves around you. I hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t, ___. Get it out of your head.”

“Jungkook—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” He quickly waves you off, pointing an angry finger back to the building you just came out of. “You know I’m winning an award at this very moment? I’m reaching the tip of the iceberg tonight, and instead of celebrating it, I’m out here trying to keep you sane.” Jungkook grunts, hand falling back to his side. “I didn’t see Jung fucking Hoseok do that last year when he won that damn award. His partner stood beside him, supporting him while he accepted the prize.”

You maintain eye contact, no matter how much fire swims in his gaze. “I know you didn’t just compare me to your coworker’s wife.” You scoff loudly, “Jung Hoseok probably has the decency to include his partner in every major decision he makes. Including promotions that will require your everything, Jungkook. If that was our case,” your finger swats back and forth between your raging bodies, “then yes, I would love to be that kind of wife for us. But I’ve done that for a long time. I can no longer be like her.”

Jungkook groans, stepping closer and causing you to press your back flat against his Benz. “Maybe Jung Hoseok works his ass off to earn such a prize in the first place, knowing his wife is there. On his side. No matter the case.”

“Well, maybe that is because Jung Hoseok and his wife never stopped loving each other!”

Little puffs of air escape your lips and the statement leaves you a little breathless when realization strikes through. They mold together with Jungkook’s, who also seems to need a moment to register whatever it was you just spat in his face. His aura changes not much longer after, eyes digging into yours with the tip of his tongue running over the back of his teeth. Jaw set tight with a dare running in his gaze. He looks down at you with heavy lids, and when you stay quiet for longer than he was hoping, he speaks up. Though the voice is low enough to pass as a warning.

“You want to repeat that for me?”

You sigh, closing your eyes as you try to place a somewhat reassuring hand to his burning chest, it’s hot and under fire beneath your palm. You didn’t mean to slap him across the face like that. “Jungkook, I didn’t mean you and I—’’

“I don’t care what the fuck you meant.” He says slowly, swatting your hand off him with an intense gaze. “Repeat that for me.”

You shake your head, keeping it up high even with the way he’s looking down on you. You can stand your own ground as well as him. “Kook, I’m not going to repeat myself when I didn’t mean to say that.” You argue, arms folding.

Jungkook locks eyes for much longer than is necessary, like he doesn’t believe you and he’s trying to find some sort of truth in them instead. Hands now situated in the pockets of his dress pants, he leans his weight down on one leg. “Then get in the car.” He then simply says, tone a bit too composed to ease you down. “We’re going home.”

“No,” you argue back with a stern voice. You’re both upset, incredibly so. The last thing you need to do right now is push your anger to the sidelines. “We’re not done talking, Jungkook.”

“We’re done.” He’s quick to tell you, taking a step back before and impatient, sharp eyebrow arches. The weight of his body on one leg. “I said, get in the car, ___. You wanted to go home? Let’s go fucking home.”

The bite in his voice is evident to send the warning through. He is just standing there, hands casually hidden in his pockets as he glares down at you, patiently waiting for you to get moving. You shoot him a look, something that says something along the lines of, seriously, this is how we’re gonna do this? He nods once. Nothing more, nothing less. That’s all you’ll get.

Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.

Jungkook is quick to get in the driver’s seat when you huff and round the car, the silence quick enough to break through the tight space once the doors slam shut. For a brief moment, the two of you just sit there, gazing at the packed parking lot without another word exchanged. You know Jungkook needs a moment to collect himself before he gets off driving you both home, but he is not the only one in desperate need to let go of some steam. The tight gripped hand around the wheel, where his knuckles turn a pale white is telling you enough about his current state. He hasn’t even stuck the key in the ignition yet and that might be for the better.

He finally looks at you without a word and you don’t back down from the challenge. He still fumes with fire when your gazes meet, lips tightly pressed together. The man watches you like a hawk, right hand still planted at the steering wheel as he stares back down at you from over his shoulder—seemingly no intention to drive off anytime soon. You seem to glow with a heated bitterness and he finds himself feeling a similar way. It does little to intimidate you, though.

Rage consumes you and the silence only seems to worsen it. You’ll have to voice your thoughts or you might go feral. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a child.”

He scoffs, bits of amusement tugging at the edges of his lips. “Don’t get me started, princess.”

Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.

Your eyes narrow, challenging him. “Go get started, Kook,” a dare drips off your mocking voice, low and anticipating when you raise a single brow. ‘‘I don’t mind.’’

And just like that, something in the air shifts. Maybe it’s the way his eyes drag down your glossy lips without an ounce of shame, or the noticeable fact that his pants are starting to tighten around his crotch area. Your eyes fall down there. You can’t helpt, and neither do you mean to hide it.

“You don’t want me to, baby. Trust me.” He asserts, tone firm and unwavering.

“Try me.”

Time seems to go still and Jungkook seems like he’s hesitant, eyes flickering down your lips one or two times too many. There’s not much sentiment found on his features. No pretty little smile at the lips, and no softened gaze roundening his eyes. Instead, his jawline is locked so tight, you’re able to catch each huff and puff that leaves him. The silent battle of wills unfolds between you. There is a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, as if debating whether to succumb to your request or stand his ground.

However, Jungkook is a raging mess, all he needs right now is an outlet.

“Damn it,” He curses before he slams his lips onto yours. A surprised, muffled gasp falls from your mouth into his when your noses angrily collide, finding the right amount of balance when a tattooed hand reaches the back of your neck to keep you in place. His lips feel velvety against yours, soft and inviting despite the intensity of his movements. Even though his moves are much rougher. Much more raw.

You respond to the passionate kiss with the same intensity, kissing him back just as hard with your hand steady at his jaw. His own hand hides at your nape, both of you hovering over the storage box in between your seats like two horny teenagers hiding in his big brother’s car. Moans escape his lips and resonate against yours. Youthful desire builds the intensity, sending sweet tingles straight to your core.

‘‘Fuck, come here,’’ Jungkook utters, exhaling heavily as he settles back into his seat.

Not one to resist, you swiftly maneuver your way into the driver’s seat, straddling him with both legs on his either side. His hands instinctively find place at your lips as you lean in to capture his lips in a heated, messy kiss where you hold onto his jaw and push the back of his head to his seat. However, tonight is not like any other night. Tonight, he can’t let you take control.

Jungkook’s kisses become fervent as he pushes you against the steering wheel with a bit more force than intended, causing it to dig into your back with a sharp yelp eliciting into the air. The soft gasp you breathe out as you try to catch on easily gets ignored by him. Still adjusting to the rapid pace, his hands tenderly explore your backside, rubbing in sweet circles before moving down to roam over your ass.

His slender fingers carefully tug at the hem of your dress before he rushes to ride it up your thighs, just until your bare ass hovers above the growing bulge that’s hidden away in the dress pants that now seem too tight around his thighs for his own good. It is no longer something you could ignore even if you wanted to. Not with the way his cock throbs against your panties; the thin material of his slacks not helping much to create a decent barrier.

Nonetheless, you don’t seem to care when you shamelessly start to grind down on his clothed erection. He groans on your skin when you throw your head back, fingers playing while they tangle through his slick locks as if to guide his mouth. “Sit still,” he angrily mumbles, though he doesn’t try to still your hips from humping onto him.

“Don’t wanna,” you stubbornly mutter in response, tugging tighter at his hair in the hopes of a response. You have to hold the evil smirk that's threatening at your lips when you shift back and forth in his lap with a much quicker, more dangerous pace. “Make me?”

His mouth stills at your neck and a rush of satisfaction wavers over you. Jungkook’s hot breath fans over the same spot his lips were just pressed against, slow to look back up at you. Only to find you grinning in his lap like a fool. “You got such a big mouth on you tonight.” He murmurs so close to your lips like he’s planning on kissing you again. Heavy lidded eyes stare back at you in the dark when his middle finger hooks around the lace of your thong at your ass. “Such a big mouth but you don’t even know what you’re asking for. What a terrible trait, sweetheart.” He teasingly tugs at the thong, rubbing the material in between your sweet cheeks.

Your hands reach behind you, reaching for the zipper at the back of the dress before you start to unzip it. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” You sing, tweaking the straps off your shoulders with a teasing grin. What are you waiting for? Undress me, is what your eyes tell.

God. He can’t stand you.

His lips are on yours within a heartbeat. And neither of you plan to let go without a fight.

It’s like both of you are fighting for dominance over the other as the kiss grows more intense. Noses angrily bump into each other, teeth clash and bite into the already swollen flesh of your lips. You’re so engrossed in the lip biting and breath sharing that you barely realize Jungkook pulling down your dress with force, the latex now hunched around your waist to reveal your bare chest. It is only when his fingers reach out to pinch your hardened nipples when you break free from him, the sensitivity growing into excitement before it runs straight to your core.

“Hm, so sensitive baby.” Jungkook hums with a pleased grin threatening on his face, pinching a few more times at the sensitive buds. “I have a feeling you’re all bark and no bite tonight. How come?” He asks quietly. “Felt ignored because I didn’t look at your pretty tits all night? ‘Specially when they’re looking so nice and swollen for me right now, mhm?”

He dives down and wraps his pretty lips around the perky bud when you don’t respond on time, tonguing and nipping until he can hear you squirm on top of him. “I knew that was it.” He mumbles, letting go with a lewd pop. You almost don’t catch it with how low he is speaking, almost like you’re not even meant to hear him in the first place. His tattooed hand gently massages your other breast in the warmth of his palm. “Baby feels neglected the moment the focus isn’t on her. Ain’t that funny?” He chuckles humorlessly, something far away from genuine laughter and you don’t manage to crack a smile either. “Now she’s on top of my cock waiting to get fucked like she wasn’t acting like a total brat back there. Like brats deserve to get fucked nice and slow.”

You push Jungkook back against his seat by the chest, his head lazily lolling back without much surprise as he patiently waits for your next move with a darkened gaze. He knew he was going to press your buttons some time soon. Both your heart and head are fuming. “Not true.” You argue weakly before you decide it’s your turn to pepper angry kisses at the silky skin of his neck. Your grip tightens at his throat, right beneath his jaw. Only to keep him still, you convince yourself. “You’re an asshole. You know that, right?” You mumble against the hot skin, surprised he’s able to understand your muffled words.

Your hand isn’t that secure around his throat, but he decides to play along nonetheless, keeping his head locked to his seat. “So I’ve heard, sweetheart.”

You ignore the cheeky comment and instead allow your free hand to fumble with the leather belt wrapped so deliciously around his hips. You continue biting and licking in the crook of his neck, not caring if any purple marks find their way there. Jungkook swallows back a whimper of relief when your hasty hands unbuckle his gold coated Montblanc belt. His dress pants aren’t even supposed to be this tight fitted around his crotch area, even when he’s hard. Though it’s no secret Jungkook has been working on his thigh muscles throughout the years. And to say it has served him right would be an understatement.

“Take me out, sweetheart.” He breathes when you dip your hand inside, not yet granting him the pleasure of pulling out his cock just yet. Cupping him over his boxers instead, you suck his quiet moans up like second nature.

Jungkook’s hips eagerly buckle into your grasp and you contemplate on giving him the satisfaction this early on, because even you are growing impatient. Instead, you continue stroking his cock over his boxers, rubbing up and down his length with more pressure as you watch him exhale through his nose. Jungkook’s adams apple moves at his throat when he swallows tightly, eyes shutting in frustration.

You bring your lips to graze over his cheek, so sweet and romantically as the two of you are. Hot and sharp breaths fan on his skin. “Stop bossing me around, will you, Kook?”

He breathes lowly; still through his nose as his chest heaves up and down. Almost like he’s holding himself back from doing things you can’t handle. “Spoiled girls need someone to boss them around.” A sharp sting tingles at your ass, realizing he just spanked you there, the sudden cry you let out in the shell of his ear explaining why his large hands are now soothingly caressing the sensitive skin. “They turn into brats the minute someone doesn’t put them in place. Did you already forget the way you acted tonight, babe?”

He gently continues to knead your ass in his big hands. “You’re just as responsible as I am for that.” You whimper weakly, deciding you’ve had enough when you take Jungkook’s thick cock in hand and out of his pants and boxers. He’s warm, heavy and angry in your grip, red and swollen tip staring back at you when he’s fully out. You raise a brow at the sight. “But it seems like you don’t mind it right now.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he despises more at the moment. The way the shit-eating grin on your face only seems to spread the longer victory consumes you, or the way his dick twitches when your hand tightens around his shaft. Jungkook holds back his grunts. Adding free coins to your egoism is the least bullet point on his to-do list.

“Careful,” he speaks with a warning, eyes flickering back down your lips before the tips of his fingers slide down your covered slit from the back. They rasp against the black lace a little before he adds more pressure where your hole is covered, content to feel your soaked cunt leaking through the fabric. Continuing to feel up to the damp spot, he speaks. “You’re not one to talk when you’re dripping like this. Take this off for me, sweetheart.” He hints at your panties even though he is the one dragging the lace down your legs already.

For as far as his cramped Mercedes allows you to reach down atop his muscled thighs, you make sure you’re at a safe distance before a chunk of spit runs off your lips and onto his throbbing cock. Jungkook groans loudly, hips rutting up when you start pumping him with a tight grasp. You maintain eye contact while you do so, addicted to the way his hazy gaze angrily stares back at you, free hand moving to knead his balls. Your thumb grazes over the head, silently massaging his slit where you spread the precum over the rest of his leaking cock.

“Fuck,” you curse, the wetness coating your fingers. “Want you in my mouth.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah.” You repeat.

Jungkook’s hands tighten at your waist, digging into your skin. “None of that.” He then mumbles, earning a confused frown from you. “Rub yourself against my cock, baby. Need to feel how wet this tight cunt is for me.”

“God.” You roll your eyes like you mean it, but your pussy starts to throb at the thought already. He knows it does. How could he not? Jeon Jungkook knows you from the inside out; knows what you like and what you don’t like. Six years of being with you has taught him that much. And because of that, Jungkook is not one to wait around for you to make your move and pushes his hands harder at your hips instead, guiding your bare cunt towards his cock.

“That’s it.” Jungkook lets out a low groan from the base of his throat, the pressure at your hips slacking down once you take over with a slower, more experimental pace. His head falls back and his thick neck comes into view instead, velvety skin on display when your cold fingers hide to intertwine at his nape again. Wet lips drag over his cock and spread wider the more pressure you add. “Look at you soaking my cock like you’re ready to ride it. As if girls like you deserve to be stretched out in the first place.”

“I deserve it.” You nearly stutter when you find the right amount of pressure, your clit now directly rubbing against his head.

He hums softly at your engrossed self. “Yeah?” He continues to ask. “You think you deserve to fuck yourself off on this cock?”

You can only nod in return when your pace increases and eyes shut tight. Jungkook takes sight of the teeth that dig into your lower lip and nails that scratch at the skin at the back of his neck. He moans a little at the sharp feel, his own chest heaving up and down when the blood rushes to his cock. “Can’t hear you, baby.” He pushes when you continue to rock against him without another word, his tattooed hand spanking your ass cheek again to grab your attention. “Need words to decide if I’m letting you ride me.”

It’s not an easy job to pry your eyes open again when your cunt is so deliciously dragging against him, but you manage to do so with heavy lids. “Not to bruise your ego, babe,” you breathe out, thumb padding on his slit as if addressing an obvious issue at hand. “But you’re not really in a position to make demands either.”

He huffs out some air, the warmth of it fanning against your lips. You know you’ve got him trapped without a comeback to throw back in your face when he pierces a single brow. “You should really do something about that mouth.”

“Thought you said you were gonna take care of that.” You boldly recall, clearly challenging him. “Or are you backing out so soon?”

Jungkook doesn’t care enough to defend himself against your assumptions. Instead, he nods his head to the backseat. “Get back there.” He instructs with pressed brows. “You won’t be so smart when you’re coming on my tongue.”

A dramatic sigh leaves your lips like you’re tired. Hands cupping his cheeks sweetly, the back of his head easily lolls to his seat so he looks up at you with those darkened, dangerous eyes. You take him into a slow and wet kiss where your lips seem to dance together in unison, breathing heavily into each other until his tongue presses between your parted lips in an attempt to enter. But you pull away on time. Still, only inches away from his face, his eyes glued to your lips. “You don’t have to eat me out. I can take you right now.” You heave with swollen lips brushing his.

“You know I don’t mind,” Jungkook frowns a little at the odd statement, fingers absentmindedly running circles at your hips again.

“I know you don’t.” You’re quick to speak, hands moving to rub at his shoulders. “But Kook,” you whine with an obvious pout, removing his grip off your hips before you guide his fingers to your dripping cunt, voice sweeter than candy as you watch him observing quietly. “Feel me—I’m so wet for you. Can’t I have you right now?”

A sense of relief already rushes through you when Jungkook’s fingers carefully pad at your wet lips, spreading them apart with a clear string of fluid sticking to his fingertips. “You’re soaked,” he says like you don’t already know, and you can only nod in agreement, the glossed and pouty lips never leaving your face. His cock grows harder in his pants at the feel of your hand cupping his own, hips rolling into his palm. “I won’t hurt you because we’re being eager, though.”

“Aw, come on babe,” you whimper like a little child. “I’ll let you know if it hurts...”

You watch him hesitate for a bit, playing it off when his finger sinks into your warmth. Subtle and careful at first, focusing on the way your walls tighten around the thick digit. You’re sucking him up like he’s meant to be there, silent moans hanging in the base of your throat when he starts pumping inside of you, deliciously curling at your walls. “I see what this is about,” you say with an edge cut sharp, a moan already at the tip of your tongue when his pace increases. ‘‘You’re scared you’ll bust the moment you’re in deep.”

You’re obviously teasing him. Evident in the way your heavy eyes fall down on him with a slight curve at the corners of your lips. He scoffs anyways, your words getting to him whether you’re joking or not. “Please,” he laughs, a humorless chuckle thrown in your face. “We both know I got you creaming around my cock before I even get the chance to.”

You tug a little at his long, jet black locks that were slicked back so perfectly before. Watching as his head rocks back at the action. “Show me? Make me regret assuming.”

He visibly gulps, but not out of nervosity. No, Jeon Jungkook rarely gets nervous, especially not around the woman he spent a total of six years with. Instead, he wonders what to do with you and your crazy attitude. There is a quiet dare you’re exchanging and he catches on just as fast. Never being one to sit back down on a challenge. Especially not when it comes to you and your sneaky games. Though truth be told, Jungkook can be just as devious as you do it.

“Ride me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook’s green card causes your devious lips to form back into the familiar sweeping grin while your excitement flows straight to your cunt. You palm his cock in your hand, feeling as he gets harder in your hold at the sensation. Lining him up between your lips, Jungkook is found having a hard time keeping himself sane, watching you with thoughts drowning him as the head disappears in your tight pussy, already sucking him up like you’ve never taken him before. “Good girl. Go nice and slow for me.” He grunts quietly, fingers digging harder at your sides the lower you sink down and onto his cock. “So good to me whenever you want to, hm?”

Your head falls to rest in the crook of his neck and you feel him move with you, lips at your temples waiting in anticipation. Like he expects an answer. “I’m always good to you.”

“Whenever you want to,” he corrects with a sharp edge, hands roaming over your ass in soothing circles when he can feel your hot, short cut breaths in his neck, inhaling the fresh citrus smell of his fragrance just the way you’re used to. His own chest heaves up and down in hammered motions, cock deliciously brushing against your velvety walls when you take all of him. “Fuck, so tight. Would’ve been much easier if you let me eat you out, sweetheart.”

“I can take it.” You whimper against his skin, stilling to let both of you adjust. Slumping down, chest against chest for a mere minute before you suck a sharp breath in when he reaches in between your bodies, thumb continuing to rub small and fast circles at your clit. “J- Kook,” you voice just above a whisper, his fingers circling with more pressure at your clit. “Kook...”

“What is it, baby?” He asks, voice vibrating at the shell of your ear when his lips are so painfully close. “Are you already starting to regret it? I knew you were bluffing, but damn, can’t even play pretend so soon?”

He’s mocking you with that annoying tone of voice, and everything in you wants to prove him wrong. To spare yourself the embarrassment of being caught slacking. Slowly, you start to move with his thumb still driving you insane at your clit. It’s a small and minor movement at first, making sure he feels every little drag of your walls around his angry cock before he gets the chance to open that big mouth again. Well, to be frank, it is open; pretty and plush lips slightly parted to let the moans die down on his tongue.

You remove your head off his shoulder just so you can catch the look on his face when you heave yourself up, only until his tip is inside you and the rest of his cock is already covered with your juices. He shoots you a look that tests your limits, but you’re not intimidated enough to back down and mirror him when you sink onto his cock once more. The familiar stretch of his thick shaft making both of you moan out in delight, blending perfectly together in the narrow space of his Benz.

“Fuck, Kook.”

His shoulders slump a little, eyes shutting tight and the sight of it only makes you bounce faster on his cock. His slight curve hits the sweeter, more sensitive spot with each roll of your hips and your head nearly falls back at the delicious feel. Sharpened nails dig into his blouse at the shoulders but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind the slightest, probably too lost in his own pleasure to even notice. His tattooed hand reaches out to tug at your nipple some more, sweet moans of delight filling the air almost instantly.

Jungkook got his veiny arm secured around the small of your waist, keeping you close enough to him to the point your breasts are pressed against his chest. Bouncing on his cock the way you do it so gracefully, you let your head fall down his shoulder, where your breaths become heavier and more ragged. “So eager for someone you claim no longer to love,” he hisses, seizing the opportunity to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin at your neck, just beneath your jaw. “Isn’t that what you said, baby? That we no longer love each other?”

“I didn’t mean it,” you groan, uttering out the words as he bites down even harder, intensifying the searing sensation in the heat of your neck.

His fingers curl at your hips, guiding them up and down above him with a delicious stretch of his cock at your walls. “So what,” he drawls, jaw twitching when your pussy tightens around him. “You said it just to say it?”

One thing about Jungkook is that, even after all these years of being married to you, he never tells you what the deal is about. You said something you weren’t supposed to? Sure thing, but he needs you to figure out what you did wrong yourself. Being the business man at heart, he has taught himself since his early college days to be straight forward and precise. Straight to the point. A no-nonsense approach with an ability to cut through the fluff. It’s a dance you’ve become familiar with. Maybe all he wants to hear is an apology, some cue that indicates a hint of regret—he himself isn’t even so sure. Maybe he just wants to know if you meant it.

Between heavy gasps and angry moans, you manage to speak, voice strained with a mix of arousal and remorse. “I... I didn’t mean it in the way you think,” you pant, the words barely audible in between your entangled bodies. “I was angry... and lashed out.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping onto you in a way that makes your hips still with only the tip of his cock inside. Your pussy pulses around nothing, desperate for the release he’s been building up so effortlessly. “Yeah?” He huffs, hips lifting off his seat to buckle into you with harsher, deeper thrusts. You can barely breathe when his pace increases and the only sound that’s filling the car is skin slapping against skin. “You just had to have the last word, didn’t you? Baby couldn’t keep her pretty mouth shut so she spews shit like that out.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you argue back, lifting your head to meet him for a messy kiss you can’t keep up with. Not with the way his thrusts bounce you up and down his dick uncontrollably. Lips angrily dancing together like it’s your last time, moans molding together like it’s your last taste. “I didn’t mean it like that, Kook.”

Those slender, tattooed fingers run back down until he spreads your ass cheeks apart, gaining more control over you as you let him guide you throughout the thrusts. “Neither did I,” he says and you’re not entirely sure what he means by that. Rhythm becoming more focused than before, you notice his thrust seeming to slow down a little, though his dick reaches deeper, sweeter spots inside you that has you yelping into the tight air. “This pretty pussy about to cream my cock?”

You whimper with despair, head thrown back as he fucks into you from below. The tip of his dick reaches all your sweet spots each time his hips meet your ass, eliciting your head to fall back and exposing your velvety neck before him. “Fuck, yes,” Jungkook is quick to place his lips at your throat, soothingly swiveling his tongue around in circled motions. “You fill me up so well.”

“Do I?” He knows he does. Can feel how each drag of his cock in between your sweet, hot walls drives you a little more crazy. “Are you gonna make me dirty and cum all over me when I fuck you like this? Baby can’t take it?”

‘‘I can take it. Jungkook, please,’’ a lewd moan leaves your lips when his hand curls around your throat, heated and tight until he can feel you swallow against his palm.

Your pleads don’t fall on deaf ears when Jungkook firmly plants both feet to the floor, one hand tightening around your hip and the other around your throat. Lifting your hips until your warm walls are only wrapped around the tip of his cock, he pauses, locking eyes with you and keeping it there as if telling you there’s nowhere else for you to look at. He doesn’t give you any other warning before he’s thrusting into you, hips meeting your ass cheeks with force until he’s satisfied and buried to the hilt. “Keep your eyes open babe, want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He doesn’t move, keeping his cock deep inside you until you manage to pry your eyes open and meet his dark gaze, lips formed into a big O.

You do as he says, unable to get another word out when his hips draw back back, cock deliciously returning with another single, harsh thrust that got your tits bouncing up and down. It takes everything in you not to break eye contact, not to pinch your eyes to a tight close with the way he fills you so well. “Oh my God,” you choke out, barely audible as your hand wraps around his wrist by your neck, nails scratching against his sweet skin.

Jungkook sucks your whimpers up, watching your eyes grow heavier before he pounds into you again. Pace fastening with each thrust that becomes a little more precise and aimed to reach your sweet spot. Your moans grow uncontrolled and his name rolls off your lips with each thrust, the sound of your shaky breaths melting together with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the slight curve of his cock so deep in between your walls, you have a hard time keeping it together.

“I said, eyes open. Keep them on me.” Jungkook rasps out in between his own heavy breaths when your eyes shut close again. “That’s it, my pretty girl.” Lewd whimpers fill the air and he’s loving every sound that comes from you, ego swelling at each whine and each sob you throw his way.

‘‘Fuck, Jungkook.’’ Your moans fill up the tiny space with each drag of his cock hitting your sweet spots, you don’t know how much longer you can take it when he pounds into you so deliciously.

‘‘Shit, cum for me, baby. Cream my cock.’’ He groans out loud, reconnecting your lips in a breathless kiss as he doesn’t need to tell you twice. The wave of your orgasm running through you, body tensing as your juices coat his thick cock.

He’s panting now, the feeling of your pussy clenching around him and as you coat him to the brim drives him insane. He pumps into you a couple times more before unloading inside. Your head falls back at the hot feeling of him filling you up, buried into you as he groans into the suffocating air.

It’s a funny thing, the way you and Jungkook operate.

Contrary to what many might assume, even after being together with the man for almost 7 years, you still have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Finding yourselves grappling with a sense of uncertainty, far from a picture perfect commitment the way you’d think of marriage those years ago. It isn’t a pretty sight, but you figure either of you have gotten used to the same song, the same rhythm that there is to your relationship, a dance of trial and error, where you stumble your way through challenges together, yet apart.

It defies logic when you put it that way. It isn’t a secret that you and Jungkook haven’t been able to make each other happy for quite some time, to put it plain and simple. Initially, the two of you were capable of hiding your worries beneath a thick blanket of luxury items and long office hours, and it’s not like much of that has changed, but the clock is ticking until Jungkook is leaving for his two-month business trip and you haven’t exchanged a word since the event two days ago. Since the heated sex in the driver’s seat of Jungkook’s Mercedez. Usually you’d just shrug it off, swearing no ignorant man of a husband is worth the wrinkles at your forehead.

So you’re not sure why you can’t seem to lift the weight of your shoulders off.

It feels wrong, that is. Wrong for Jungkook to leave you to fetch for yourself for two months without some sort of reconciliation. He tries to maintain some resemblance to your usual routine, you can tell. He continues to hold you during your sleep, an arm draped around your waist as you can hear the peaceful rhythm of his breaths. Though he isn’t close enough for you to feel his burning, bare chest against your back. He still brings back home dinner from your favorite Malay takeaway downtown, but doesn’t linger at the dinner table to make sure you eat everything to the last rice grain. He still surprises you with beaming jewelry you added to your wishlist months ago, but doesn’t stay to look how it adorns you.

Jungkook’s absence drains you.

It’s true. Not a fact you would ever admit out loud, but when push comes to shove, you might want him by your side every here and now. Yet at the end of the day, you’re a stubborn woman. Always have been and Jungkook knew it from the start. If he wanted to fix things between you before he leaves for his trip, then he would’ve done it by now.

‘‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’’ Your voice beams through the living room, Jungkook’s presence surprising you as you enter. Seated at the sofa, his back faces you as he’s dressed in his formal attire, elbows digging into his thighs as he’s typing away on his phone.

You linger at the arm of the sofa, gaze fixed at his side. There is a moment of silence that settles between you, filled by the quiet taps of his thumb against the screen. ‘‘My meeting got canceled,’’ he answers, voice tinged with a bit of weariness. ‘‘I only got a few hours before I have to get back.’’

The tension in your shoulders ease slightly, but your guard remains there. ‘‘Oh,’’ you respond dryly, that being all you can give him right now, turning on your heel to grab your shoes and coat and move your way out of the house.

Slipping your shoes on with your coat hanging in the crook of your arm, the car keys rumble loudly in your grip. Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air, making you halt in your steps. ‘‘I was thinking we’d see Seulgi in the meantime,’’ He calls over his shoulder, barely turning around to see you eye to eye. ‘‘I just called and she says she got a gap free for us.’’

Your brows furrow and his words hang in the air for a moment, his eyes glue back to his screen, mindlessly scrolling through it and you wonder what is going on through his head. You saunter back to the sofa, weight leaning on one leg when you stand before him again. ‘‘Right now?’’ You ask, head tilting. ‘‘I’ve got things to do, Jungkook.’’

Jungkook sighs, setting his phone aside and clasping his hands together between his thighs. He musters a smile, though it seems more ironic than genuine. ‘‘Well, it’s kind of urgent, ___,’’ He smiles with closed lips though it seems ironic. ‘‘Considering the fact that I’ll be leaving in less than a week.’’

You stand there, feeling your feet glued to the floor. ‘‘That’s not on me,’’ you manage to utter, an accusation thrown in there. It’s almost like he’s shifting the blame on you. Like you were the one to tell him to get on that boat and leave for two months. ‘‘You were the one who wanted to go on that trip, Jungkook, not me. If you wanted to see Seulgi you should’ve planned it sooner because I already made plans for today.” You call, “I can’t just reschedule them.’’

You hold his gaze, your eyes conveying a mix of frustration and disappointment. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You realize that the disconnect between you and Jungkook runs deeper than this singular moment. It's a culmination of unaddressed issues and unmet expectations that have taken a toll on your relationship. ‘‘Can’t you see that I’m trying? I just want to make things right before I leave,’’ Jungkook sighs softly, ‘‘she already said she doesn’t do virtual sessions. You know this could be the last time in a long time for us to visit?’’

Your patience wears thin when your eyes meet. He looks at you like you get to cut through the ropes, which in fact, right now you do. But again, you're not the one to distance yourself for months on end. You can’t help but blame him. ‘‘That still isn’t on me.’’

You’re fast to turn on your heel, ready to leave him in that big house. But you don’t get far when a gentle grip takes your hand in his own. He takes you by surprise, turning to look at him when his eyes find yours. His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold on to you, to keep you from slipping away. There’s a silent plea in his gaze, a plea for understanding and trying to make things right.

‘‘Why are you pushing me away?’’ His voice is quiet as he tugs at your hand, urging you to stand before him again.

‘‘I’m not,” you respond, your voice laced with a touch of defensiveness, giving up the fight to his gentle grip, where he guides you to stand between his legs.

“I’m trying to make amends,” he adds, his tone a little gentler than before. “I’m trying, but you won’t even tell me where you're going.’’

His words leave you a little hesitant, torn between the desire to hold onto your grievances and the flicker of hope that perhaps there is a chance for reconciliation. “I don’t see how it’s important where I’m off to,” you finally say, looking down at those big eyes that stare back at you. “I already made plans and that’s all there is to it.”

His grip on your hands tightens slightly, his thumb gently caressing the back of it as he searches for the right words. “It matters to me because I want to be there for us,” he says, his voice earnest. There is a vulnerability in his eyes, a genuine sincerity that tugs at your heart a little. “I leave in less than a week and I take full responsibility for that decision, but at least give me the chance to make things right before I leave.”

With a soft sigh, you release your hand from his grip and reach up to cup his face, your thumb gently brushing up his cheeks as an amused, humorless smile paints your lips. “A single, last minute session with Seulgi isn’t going to ‘make things right’, Jungkook.” You mock him, softly pinching his cheek like he’s a child. You turn your back on him, gathering your things with your shoulder bag secured beneath your arm. “If anything, it’ll just make things worse the way we do it.”

Jungkook hears the chuckle that escapes your lips but can’t bring himself to crack a smile, unable to catch the joke at hand. Sharp eyes never leave your frame as you shuffle around the living room, collecting everything you need before getting out of the house. “Fine,” his voice booms through the room as he stands up with a huff, hands at his hips. “We’ll just sit here and talk if that’s the way you want to do it.”

“And then? You think that’ll do the trick?” You retort, bitter laughter escaping your lips. You can count the amount of times you and Jungkook could’ve just sat down just to talk and fix your issues on one hand. You’ve always been here, at the house, waiting for him to finish his shifts to do exactly that. Now his meeting got canceled and suddenly he got time for you?

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together, his own frustration rising to the surface. “I never said it would magically fix everything,” he shoots back, his tone matching your intensity. “But at least it shows that I’m trying, that I want to make things right before I leave.”

You scoff. “Trying? Is that what you call it?” Sarcasm drips off your voice when you finally turn to face him, seemingly ready to get your ass moving right then and there. “Fine. Let’s try when I get back home tonight.”

The haste kiss you place at his cheek nearly comes across as an insult, your lips barely lingering for a moment before you pull away. And just like that, you’re ready to fly out of the door, fueled by frustration and the desire to escape the argument that has consumed the room. Jungkook thinks you’re being childish, perhaps a little selfish when he watches the way you almost seem to float your way off. He understands that a two month business trip will only deepen the rift between you, but living like you’re strangers during your last days together, leaving with a packed suitcase on empty words—he doesn’t want to know what would happen in that case.

“What in the world could be a priority over an attempt to fix your relationship right now?” Jungkook’s voice rings just as your hand grips onto the doorknob, the frustration evident as his voice raises to catch your attention.

You pause on your tracks, still holding onto the doorknob with all you got. The impact of his question makes you halt, awfully familiar like you’ve heard it somewhere before. “Funny thing you ask that, considering I’ve asked myself that same question every time you head off to wherever you are needed at the time.” You retort, bitterness lacing on to every word. You hum like you’re thinking, “I never got an answer to that, by the way.”

Jungkook’s shoulders slump, his eyes searching for your understanding. “That’s because I’ve got a job. To provide for us, ___. You know that much so don’t go around acting dense, please.”

You narrow your eyes at him, the anger bubbling up inside you. “Oh, so now I’m acting dense? That’s how you see it?” The bitterness in your tone is impossible to conceal. “You can’t just use your job as an excuse every time it becomes convenient. Be fair, Jungkook, we wouldn’t even have this conversation if it wasn’t for your canceled meeting, so why make such a big deal out of this?”

His expression shifts, defensiveness crossing his face. “I do what I have to do for us,” he replies, voice tinged with frustration. “You’re right. I’m not always able to combine business and private matters the way I wish I’d be able to. But I try, and I work hard so we can live a comfortable life. Is that not important to you?”

Bitter laughter escapes you and echoes through the hall, watching as he reaches closer. “Of course it is, but I am not a second job to you. I refuse to be,” you’re quick to argue back. “We can have a talk, but it’s not going to be an easy one and we both know it. So if we’re talking, then it’s not going to be when you conveniently got a meeting that got canceled. You’re going to have to prioritize us and our issues if you really want it to work, Jungkook.”

“I’m ready to sit down and do exactly that, right now,” there is a fire that swims through his gaze as he says it, one that dares to tell you you’re in the wrong. The hesitation runs through yours, it’s all he can see the longer you lock eyes. “I’ll clear my schedule for the rest of the day if that’s what it takes, ___.”

Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.

You can’t help it; his image flashes through your head without an ounce of control. Because right in this fleeting moment, the guilt chimes at your chest as Jungkook looks at you with expectant eyes.

Truth be told, the unfamiliar man had been on your mind ever since you talked to him at the event. It had much less to do with his good looks, his charming persona and much more to do with the topics you shared, the things he had to offer. Things you thought you had let go of a long time ago with a heavy heart and a hard pillow to swallow.

Modeling was no longer part of the game for you. It’s one thing you accepted a long time ago. The first night after the event took place, you managed to ignore that gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, thinking that feeling would be gone in the morning, where all you had to worry about again was you and Jungkook, only to wake up and his offer being the first thing you could think of. You couldn’t get your mind off it even if you truly wanted to. Unable to help yourself, you couldn’t think of your meeting with Taehyung as much of a coincidence. Not when he was linked to your world of fame, to all the people you had let go of; the colleagues, the creative editors, the artists that you were once part of.

His card burnt the inner pockets of your handbag that night.

“Where are you heading off to that makes you want to say no?” Jungkook’s question pierces through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present as his voice brims with curiosity, his eyes searching for answers. Yet, you hesitate to respond, uncertain if revealing the truth would only complicate matters further.

“It’s nothing important, just personal matters.” You reply vaguely, avoiding his gaze.

The room descends into an uneasy silence, the tension thickening in the air. Jungkook senses your hesitation, his face contorted with frustration. “___, please,” he implores, voice tinged with hints of despair. “Personal matters? I’m your husband.”

Jungkook’s words strike a chord within you, the weight of his statement hanging heavily in the air. It’s not that you don’t want to tell Jungkook about Taehyung, about the session he promised you. It’s just that this is also something new to you. You don’t know what you want yet, you don’t know where this newfound opportunity with Taehyung might lead to. Discussing this with Jungkook only makes everything so much more official and binding.

“I met someone at the event—the photographer,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “Do you remember him? His name is Taehyung,”

“Taehyung,” he repeats quietly, the question mark still visible at his forehead. His lips purse, searching your eyes for more clarity. “Yes, I remember him. What does this mean, ___?”

You can hear the impatience getting to him, the tension mounting between you both. “It means… we got to talking while you were networking with your coworkers,” you say, the statement leaving your lips a little saltier than you intended to. “So, the topic of modeling kind of came up in the conversation. Did you know he works with Minnie?”

“Minnie Chang? As in, your modeling agent?” His brows furrow, voice quiet enough for you to know this isn’t good news to him.

“Yes, her.” You nod along, unable to help the excitement growing at your chest. “Turns out Taehyung has been working with her on projects for some time. Crazy, isn’t it? I mean, he still thinks I have some potential in the industry after all those years of neglecting it. He even gave me his card that night, says there’s no strings attached to it.”

“And now you’re off to a shoot with the guy himself,” he huffs as his arms fall limp to his sides, hands at his hips as he searches your eyes for something you can’t place. “I don’t get it, ___. I thought we agreed you were done modeling? You want to dive back into that world even though we got our own shit to sort out?”

“I know what we agreed on,” you argue back, taking a sharp breath. “It’s nothing big, Taehyung said so himself. It’s a one-time shoot and if I decide to do something with it, then I will.” His eyes tell you all you need to know, they’re sharp and dig into your skull. You drop your keys into your back with a sigh of disbelief. You can’t believe he’s doubting you right now. “But I know I won’t. It’s a one-time thing. It’s not like I’m looking for a fulltime job, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s frustration is palpable as he clenches his jaw, his voice tinged with bits of disappointment. “One-time thing or not, it’s about the principle, ___.’’ He says, more sternly than you’re used to when it comes to him. ‘’Seems like you’re ready to push our problems to the side this once. So why not twice? Or three or four times every time they'll call you in for another shoot?’’

You scoff, brow arching upon his daring words. Turning on your heel, you dart out of the door, beams of sun hit your face instantly. ‘‘You’re one to speak.’’ A humorless chuckle leaves your throat, the sour smile on your face still there even though it feels like it’s crumbling. ‘‘You’d finally know how that feels, then. When the person who is supposed to be there every step on the way just neglects you with a snap of the finger,’’ you angrily mumble, his own feet rushing after yours towards the car. You spin around once you reach it, feeling he’s hot on your tail. ‘‘It doesn’t feel good, I know, baby,’’ you say, voice laced with exasperation, ‘‘but you’re off on that trip in just a few days. Either of us are gonna have to get used to that feeling, whether we like it or not.’’

Jungkook’s footsteps slow down as he reaches to stand before you, towering over your smaller frame. ‘‘You can’t be serious,’’ he blurts, gesturing a hand towards his chest. ‘’Can’t you see that I’m making an effort? It’s not easy for me either, ___. I don’t want us to be apart any more than you do. So why push me away for some random shoot that just fell into your hands?’’

‘‘Because this,’’ a pointy finger swivels between your chests, emphasizing the growing divide. ‘‘This isn’t working.’’ The weight of your words press down on you, a heaviness settling in your chest. ‘‘It isn’t, and we’re still holding onto the last thread like it is. You and I need to come up with a new strategy or so help me God, we won’t last. Taehyung gave me an opportunity that night and I’m trying not to be miserable in this house, Kook. That’s all there is to it, I need distraction too.’’

You can tell he’s holding back. Can tell by the way he sucks in his tongue, jaw sharpening because of it as his lips turn into a tight line. ‘‘So this is it, then?’’ He asks, crossing his arms with a puffed chest. ‘‘Let’s stop trying and just hope for the best because you need a little something to distract yourself with. Correct?’’

“Don’t twist my words.” You snap, meeting his fierce gaze as the intensity of the moment grounds you both. “Fuck it. I’m not gonna stand here and listen to you accusing me of shit I didn’t even say,” you delve in your handbag, swearing you left your car keys somewhere in there.

You’re obviously hitting his last nerve. It’s clear, evident in the way he holds his index finger to his nose like he’s thinking. Frowned, sharp brows and a tight line of his lips as he weighs his weight to one leg. “We’re never gonna solve any of our shit if we keep running from it.” He says through gritted teeth, holding himself back from raising his voice at the driveway. “Do you want to make your point clear, is that it? Because I fucking got it. I’m a shit husband who puts zero time and effort into his relationship. I fucking got it. But I’m trying to get somewhere now,” he watches as you dig deeper into your bag, unable to focus on the task at hand with him fuming before you. “And now that I am, you’re feeding yourself into delusions because you want to be petty and are determined to make me feel the same way? Is that really what you’d rather do today, ___?”

“Please,” you repeat with a loud scoff, gaze burning into his. “Believe it or not, baby, but my world doesn’t revolve around you,” you pinch his cheek in a mocking manner, not shocked when he’s quick to tear your touch off him. “Or at least, I’m trying not to make you my first priority, considering you’ve stopped doing that a while ago. If it taught me one thing over the years, it must be that it made me fucking miserable. Blame me all you want for not wanting to feel that way. I don’t give a fuck.”

“Baby,” he sings sweetly, a hand at your cheek as he makes sure your eyes stay locked together. He captures the fire blazing in your eyes, burning into his skull. “We can drop the big-girl act right now and head inside. I mean it,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “Right now it’s your word against mine. I’ll pour us something to drink and we’ll sit down. Just you and me, that's all we need.”

You jerk away from his touch, the intensity of the moment still pulsing between you. Drop the act? You’re seething. Jeon Jungkook always finds a way to make the steam blow out of your ears. “I don’t need anything from you.” You snap without missing a beat, thankful for the way you’re magically able to find your car keys in one of the side pockets of your bag.

For a moment, silence hangs in the air, heavy with unresolved tension. You watch as his lips part, looking for words to argue with, but nothing comes out. It feels like a confirmation when it happens. You need to be anywhere but with him right now, and so does he.

Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.

It’s an obvious matter of fact which you can’t help but examine into detail. Taehyung’s fragrance fans you off in a refined way, a gentle and classy blend of notes that seems to match that charismatic, boxy smile he keeps sending your way. And while Jungkook usually dresses in formal designer attire, woody essence hanging in the crooks of his neck, Taehyung dresses not only to impress, but also to express his artistic soul. Loose button up tucked in black trousers that sway at his legs with each step, it comes to showcase his vibrant and flowy persona. The color palette, combined with that perfect set of teeth represents his chic, suave ways of working. It comes to contrast Jungkook entirely.

Maybe you notice it because you’ve nearly spent a decade with the man. By his side day in and day out with a commitment beautifully decorating your ring finger, straight to a point where you could no longer see through each other’s flaws. And maybe that is where Taehyung comes in as a fresh breath of air. Even now that you’ve only seen the man twice in a lifetime, you only seem to focus on all the ways he seems to differ from Jungkook.

Do you feel guilty about the fact you’re watching Taehyung like a hawk, the lens on him a little too focused to point out all the things Jungkook isn’t? Not really. Right now, you don’t really feel anything. You drove over to Taehyung’s studio with half a heart racing against your ribcage, all the things you and Jungkook told each other in the back of your mind even as you arrived. Fifteen minutes late and dissolved hair that seemed like a hand has been through it a couple times.

Taehyung didn’t question it and you’re thankful he kept quiet. The last thing you need to have on your mind is Jungkook. Not his angry words, not even yours. And the charming photographer did a great job at keeping your mind off him the first hour of the session, it’s not his fault.

“You hate them.” Taehyung declares at your side, the camera in his hands falling down to his lap in a defeated manner. He’s seated at the corner of the table, one leg dangling off it right next to your high chair.

“It’s not that I hate them,” you murmur, your voice barely audible over the distant hum of the studio. Taehyung’s gaze lingers on you, his eyes holding onto a sense of curiosity. You feel the weight of his unwavering attention, and for a moment, Jungkook is all you can think of. “It’s more like I had forgotten how good this feels... all of this. Really, your shots are amazing. I guess I’m just kind of in shock.”

A tiny smile creeps up at the corners of his lips, eyes never leaving yours. “It’s only half the work with a model like you,” he snickers cutely, nudging at your side. “And I don’t want to make this an I-knew-it-better-moment, but... I kind of told you so from the start.”

You can’t help but return his smile. “I know, you’re a genius.”

“Your words, not mine.” Taehyung holds his hands up in defense, the smile that’s teasing at his lips enough to tell you he agrees. “So, what do you say? I’ve got a few empty portfolios in the back, we could print some of these photos out and make it yours.”

The wink he throws your way doesn’t go by unnoticed, his sneaky, encouraging grin filled with enthusiasm as he waits for you with a glimmer in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, lower belly piling with excitement at the idea of physically holding today’s shoot in your hands. Though the hesitation creeps at you, as if something stops you from letting that excitement flow out. “I don’t know, Taehyung…” You mumble, a toothy smile on your face even though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m gonna have to take that map home with me, and I’m gonna stare at those pictures for hours. It’ll drive me insane.”

Taehyung quirks a brow. “That’s the point.”

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur quietly, and Taehyung is unable to pry his eyes off you, the grin from before now fading off and replaced with a concerned frown. “I know that’s the point. It’s just that... I don’t know. I’m going to want more.”

It takes a second before your words work through but the grin eventually works its way back onto his lips. Wide and closed-lipped with big effort, Taehyung fights hard to hold his toothy smile back, biting at his bottom lip to prevent it from happening. It’s cute how the little confession slips off your tongue and you’re so scared to see what the outcome could be. Taehyung shuffles at his seat at the corner of the table, shoulders relaxing. ‘‘I’ll give you more.’’ He says, and suddenly his cheeky demeanor is gone, looking at you like he’s closing down a deal.

You press your lips together but he can see the way you’re trying to hold your laughter back. ‘‘Taehyung, be serious.’’

‘‘I’m serious, ___.’’ He says, and it’s like he pronounces your name in slow motion. His pink lips pout a little as if he’s deep in thoughts, head tilting while your eyes lock. ‘‘I don’t see why not? You haven’t been on the job for years, the pictures obviously show that it comes to you like second nature… we’re a great team too, can’t deny that one.’’ He smiles charmingly, and it now results in you biting your bottom lips to prevent the cheeky smile from reappearing. ‘‘So, yes. I’d give you more if that’s what you wanted.’’

‘‘This is insane.’’ You nearly whisper, head shaking. ‘‘I mean, this is crazy, Taehyung. I’m not a model anymore. I can't just pick up where I left off, it’s been literal years and I probably just shouldn’t even think about it.’’

His shoulder leans into you, watching you ramble from beneath his black curls like he sees right through you. ‘‘Because of your marriage?” He asks, eyes shifting downward before he meets yours again and you’re uncertain where exactly they shifted towards, but it might be better if you don’t know.

You chuckle lightly, not expecting him to be so straightforward. ‘‘I mean, sure. Jungkook’s my husband, he has some say about any of this.’’

‘‘Sure he does. But here’s a problem,’’ he says, a pointy finger in the air before it drops back to his lap. ‘‘You’re scared he won’t understand the purpose of it. Scared that he won’t be supporting you in all the ways you’ll need him. Right? Considering your husband is… sort of a prick. More or less.’’

You send him a scolding glare, one that’s not too hard on him looking at how you sketched Jungkook out to be that way in Taehyung’s eyes. ‘‘Tae,’’ you say quietly, ‘‘I know I mentioned some things about Jungkook back at the event, but really, he isn’t a jerk. Not a prick, or any of that sort. That’s only okay for me to say.’’ You add the lighthearted joke to keep the good atmosphere in the room. After all, you don’t blame him for thinking of Jungkook as a bad guy.

‘‘I get it, I’m overstepping my boundaries here.’’ He holds his hands up in the air, admitting defeat with that charming smile on his face. ‘‘But I’m just saying, ___. Relationships are important–marriage is important. But here’s the thing about you,’’ he pauses, voice lowering. ‘‘You have talent, undeniably so. I’ve captured it all today. And I truly believe that sometimes, you have to pursue your passions regardless of the risks. Regardless of anyone else if this is what feels right to you.’’ Taehyung holds his hands to his chest like he’s speaking from the heart and it makes you nervous how he says all these things like it’s so easy. So effortless to see the man you spend the last six years with as a risk.

Truth is, yes: Kim Taehyung sees right through you. He is right all along and you wouldn’t know how Jungkook would respond to making this whole ordeal a regular thing. Hell, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to react to it. With how shaky your relationship has become as of lately, how each one of your problems have circulated back to Jungkook’s office job some way or another, it’s hard to tell if the opportunity Taehyung offers you would truly work in your favor.

You take a deep breath, contemplating Taehyung’s words and the weight of them. The room falls into a brief silence though it isn’t pressuring, not trying to suffocate you for once. It’s not that you doubt the talent or passion that lingers within you, but you wonder if it’s worth anything if it means it would only dig your relationship deeper in the ground, especially when you and Jungkook are already trying so hard to climb out of that hole.

‘‘It’s not something you have to figure out right now.’’ Taehyung shrugs, a reassuring smile at his lips when he catches him losing you. ‘‘I just want you to know you can always give me a call. I’d be down for anything going forward, ___.’’

You can hear the hope in Taehyung’s voice and you wonder why he tries so hard to make you understand. You appreciate it, though you wonder. You just figure he’s a good guy with a good heart.

‘‘You know, you can print those photos out.’’ You say, back straightening as you catch how it throws the guy off guard a bit, his brows rising. ‘‘I had these crazy ideas for the cover of my portfolio, anyway. Might as well put them to good use and take it home with me.’’

You even surprise yourself as the words spill from your lips, though you have no intention to take them back. You suppose this is what you want. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it. Taehyung’s eyes almost seem to lighten up. ‘‘I knew you were a smart one.’’

And that’s how you’re ushering Taehyung towards the printer in the corner of his minimal studio before he can make any more smart comments. He reassures you some more time, sensing your absence as silence falls over you once more, insecurities still nagging at you even when you convince yourself this small step could lead to something good. Something bigger. At one point, it’s just the sound of the printer rapidly inking the paper as the both of you stand there on the side in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling. But you’d say it’s rather an unfamiliar one. Taehyung never does anything to make you feel like a fish out of the water, he makes sure of it and you’re grateful for that.

Joy swells at your chest, leading to butterflies filling up your lower belly. Not because of Taehyung; even as you see right through his charming looks or flirtatious brown eyes, but because he saw something in you that night of the event that made a spark of inspiration flow. Thinking back at how easy it’s been with him, how you haven’t even met the man a week ago and how you’re now here, in his studio working on things you once called passion for—it drives you crazy.

‘‘You know what? We should celebrate,” he calls and the sound of his voice throws you off guard. “With some wine, I mean. You like red?’’

And that’s how you and Taehyung end up popping a bottle of Riunite Lambrusco in the middle of his studio. The curly haired man says he always has some sort of beverage stored in the back in case of celebration, and you believe him. His character is like a breath of fresh air. He goes with the flow, you can tell, that being all you’ve been doing in the past days you introduced yourselves to one another. One hand dug deep in the pocket of his voguish trousers and the next thing you know, you’ve finished up a shoot and are setting up your portfolio together.

You like Taehyung.

You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.

Conversation flows well, even after only a couple sips of the wine he poured you. Conversation has been flowing well since the start of today’s shoot, but now that you get to sit down, look him in the eye and get to know him better, you can tell you’ve got that chemistry. The air in Taehyung’s studio feels lighter, almost ethereal, as you sit comfortably at the foldable, rusted party table and squeaky chairs he pulled from the back. Only after apologizing a handful of times, his nearly empty studio only holding onto lightning and his required equipment as you sit in the middle of it. It’s not his day to day workplace, he told you, though you keep telling him there’s something to it. The minimal yet intimate air lingers and it makes you feel good on the inside.

There’s an effortless ease to your interactions, you’re not sure what it is that he does, but he does it. Taehyung’s laughter resonates in the room, infectious and sincere whenever he talks. You find yourself opening up to him, discussing your ambitions, as well as your fears. There’s a certain comfort in his presence, as if he intuitively grasps the struggles you’ve been facing and offers you a safe space to let it out.

‘‘This is one of my favorites,’’ Taehyung leans back in his chair, one leg over the other as he brings his glass back to his lips. Your portfolio is sprawled out over the entire surface of the tiny table, resulting in you to lean over with your own glass in one hand. You follow his gaze, falling on the picture of you that’s taken from an upper angle, open palms directed to the camera and glued to your cheeks. ‘‘This one makes it seem like you never quit modeling–it’s probably something in the eyes. They’re captivating.’’

You feel your cheeks heat up as you peer at the photograph. It’s true, the image captures a certain intensity in your eyes, a spark that evokes passion. It reminds you of the days where modeling was your world, where it was your only ambition and when you were fully immersed.

‘‘I mean it.’’ He says when he notices the curl of your lips, unknown what to do or say next. ‘‘You’ve got the kind of eyes that would draw anyone in, don’t you know?’’ He enjoys seeing you so flustered, enjoys seeing how you turn in somebody new, so different from the woman he first got to know at the event. He almost feels proud for bringing this side out of you.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, Taehyung’s compliment leaving a cute flutter in your chest. You glance at the photo again, studying the intensity in your eyes like he described. ‘‘Thank you, Taehyung.’’ You reply sincerely, ‘‘I guess all of this is still kind of surreal to me. Didn’t think I’d find myself in a studio ever again, you know? It’s kind of a big deal to me.’’

‘‘I get that.’’ He says slowly, and you swear his voice drops a few octaves because of it. Leaning over the tiny table with folded arms, wine glass before you. Your eyes lock and neither of you care to say anything for another moment.

The afternoon carries on and shifts into an evening where the sun has already set before you can comprehend it. Taehyung’s squeaky party chair leaves an uncomfortable sting at your ass but you don’t mind, barely notice the feel when the nearly empty wine bottle sits there to stare at you both. A little liquid layer of red wine left over and waiting for you to finish as you hang onto Taehyung’s every word. Hang onto his tongue as he speaks of his experiences within the industry, speaks of everything you’ve been missing out on the past few years. You feel like that girl in highschool again, reading through Vogue magazines in between classes and cutting your favorite models out to stick it on to your moodboard when you were supposed to work on your homework.

Yes, you look up to Taehyung. It was inevitable from the beginning. You believe so, because Kim Taehyung’s the only connection you have right now who dives right back to that world. That world you’ve been dreaming of for so long and once made true. And not only that, but he was also the first person in a long time who saw you for anybody else than the wife of. Say you’re being dramatic, but it’s no more than the truth. Taehyung gave you an opportunity within the first ten minutes of truly knowing who you were. It says something about him. Something good that makes you feel like you can handle a lot more than you think.

You at 9.38 PM | Hi, I had a lil wine and I’m jus a little tipsy, but I probably shouldn’t be driving

You at 9.40 PM | do you think you can come over and pick me up?

Read at 9:40 PM.

You lay your phone flat on the table as you lean back into your seat with a loud huff. Copying you, his head tilts slightly. “I could just drive you home, you know that right? No need for him to drive all the way over here.”

“There’s that, but you’ve already done so much for me today.” You shake your head, a smile tugging at the edges of your lips. “Really, there’s nothing you could do right now that would make me any happier.”

It’s true. Kim Taehyung made you the happiest woman alive today.

It doesn’t take very long before you hear the shut of a car door right outside, followed by impatient knocks at the front.

“The one and only.” Taehyung murmurs with a teasing smile your way, lazily getting up from his seat before he moves to the door.

The door flies wide open and revealed behind it is your husband, hands at both his hips as his dress shirt stretches across his chest at the movement. He leans his weight onto one leg, analyzing the man before him. “Right here, sir,” Taehyung comes to stand beside him, stepping outside and pointing to something that’s out of your view. “I’ve got a doorbell. For future references.”

You catch the playful smile that’s tugging onto the corners of Taehyung’s lips and so does Jungkook. “Thanks,” he mumbles quietly as he steps inside the small studio, fast to catch your eye from your seat at the table. “But I’m just here to pick up my wife.”

Jungkook’s steps sound heavy in the nearly empty space, leather designer shoes tapping against the flooring with a slight echo at each stride. He ends up in front of you by the table but doesn’t say anything, though you see his lips are pursed and cheeks are sucked in. Hands hiding in the pockets of his dress pants, you notice how his aura comes with a change of atmosphere. Let that be his body language, the strict look on his face, or maybe even the way you react to his presence—you know the change didn’t just come falling out of the sky.

You snap out of it when Taehyung closes the door behind him with a soft thud, followed by awkward silence. Your chair screeching against the floor comes next. “Taehyung,” you move around the table, coming to stand next to your husband and locking arms. “This is my husband, Jungkook.” The man on your side doesn’t care to return your touch. No arm at the small of your back, barely another look your way when he’d rather look anywhere else with pulled brows. “Jungkook, this is Taehyung. The photographer I told you about. He’s been doing such an amazing job at running today’s shoot.”

Being the bigger person in the room, Taehyung steps in to stretch out a hand, back curving slightly. “It’s good to meet you, I’ve only heard so much.”

Jungkook only provides him a nod of acknowledgment with each childish nerve that still runs through his body, ignoring eye contact like he’s still sixteen and his mama taught him no manners. You watch as Taehyung’s hand dissolves into a loose fist and falls to his side in defeat, you send him an apologetic smile to make up for it but he brushes it aside with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Alright, I guess we should leave.” You break through the ice, hand falling at your side as you roam around to search for your bag. You reach for the curly haired man once everything’s settled, and even though Jungkook didn’t care enough to return your touch before, you catch him tonguing his cheek when you reach out for Taehyung. “Thanks again. Really, I had a blast.”

“No more than I did.” He gives you his signature smile, the one that would leave many weak in the knees.

You bid your goodbyes, telling each other to get home safely as Jungkook watches from the side. You hug Taehyung tightly before you leave, an embrace where your arms are secured around his neck and his hands appropriately rest at your back.

It’s when you and Jungkook step out when you halt in the middle of the doorway, your portfolio that was secured beneath your arm now pushed into his chest. “Oh, Taehyung!” You turn around, hair sweeping against Jungkook with the sharp turn you take. Taehyung watches you with curious, slightly widened eyes. “Is it okay for me to give you a call later this week? I’d really love to repeat what we did today some time soon.”

His features relax, familiar grin returning. “You can always give me a call.” He smiles cutely. “Hit my line, I’ll have time for you, ___.”

Insecurity is not something Jungkook has had to worry about in the past, and certainly not now. Not when it came to you, not when you were entirely his, and he was entirely yours without any second thoughts. And he still trusts you completely, trust isn’t the issue. Insecurities aren’t the issue, either. And maybe, Kim fucking Taehyung isn’t what bothers him. Maybe it’s the way you seem to admire him, remembering that twinkle in your eyes from a long time ago. Remembering that smile you rarely save for Jungkook to see these days.

So, yes. Jungkook feels a weird tingle in the pit of his stomach like he’s being teased. Like it’s your first month of dating and he’s back in college again. Standing on the side like this, waiting for you to finish the conversation, the bitterness can only creep up on him at this point.

Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.

The drive back home is worse than when Jungkook came to pick you up. He isn’t saying a word and neither are you, but he seems to be the only one bothered by it. With one hand at the steering wheel, he catches a glance at you on his side. Your nose digs into the map Taehyung gave you to bring home and your focus holds so much, you don’t even notice him staring. He can’t see much of what’s on the inside, not with the sun that has already set and the darkness that has consumed his sight.

Once you arrive home, Jungkook makes a beeline to the bedroom and you don’t put in much effort to run after the man. You store the portfolio someplace safe, where you’re sure nothing could spill or damage it in any way. It’s undeniable how today’s events made you feel like an absolute doll. Maybe it’s the after effects, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re running your entire skincare routine with droplets of water from your shower still dripping from your wet hair. It doesn’t really matter. You’ve been feeling like a pretty girl all day and you want to continue feeling that way.

It’s evident in the way you choose to wear the prettiest slip dress you can find hanging in your closet, the satin material cutting off just beneath the swell of your ass. It’s a piece Jungkook bought you a while ago during one of his first trips away, coming home with a Dior bow wrapped around the luxury packaging and a boyish smile dragging up the edges of his lips. It’s been his favorite ever since. Always loved how the fabric hugged your every curve, the way your nipples seemed to pinch right through. The way his eyes were unable to rip his gaze off you.

It’s when you enter the bedroom as Jungkook’s broad back meets you, seated at the edge of the queen sized bed with his elbows resting atop his thighs. He doesn’t bat an eye as he feels the bed dip behind him. Your knees dig into the fluffed sheets as you reach closer, heaving a loud sigh like you’re calling out for him.

“You don’t like him, do you?” you hum sweetly, pausing when your front is pressed against his back, heat radiating between you. It’s obvious who you’re referring to, hands travel at his both sides before you embrace him from beneath his arms. “Taehyung is a talented guy, don’t be so hard on him.” You chuckle at his ear, leaving a single, soft peck at his cheek. “Maybe you should flip through the portfolio we put together. You’ll really see him in a different light then, trust me.”

Manicured fingers fumble around until they reach the lowest button of his blouse. Starting from the bottom, you undo it, and you can hear the subtle sigh coming from his nose, jaw set tight as his teeth grind together. You press a trail of wet kisses to his warm skin rather than commenting on it, right below his earlobe reaching lower towards the sweet spots in his velvety neck, nails teasing at his stomach as you continue to unbutton his shirt. Jungkook is holding back, you can tell by the way his head tilts your way and eyes close at the feel of your lips buried deep in his neck, tits pressing at his backside as your hands are all over him, eagerly fumbling with his shirt–not giving into your touch. Not yet.

‘‘You’re still in your work clothes,’’ you hum in his neck, as if it isn’t already obvious. His dress pants tighten around his thick thighs each time he sits down and it’s your favorite thing in the world, the outline of his hardening crotch a little more visible with each gentle nip of your teeth against his skin.

“Yeah,” he sighs. ‘’Just in case my tipsy wife couldn’t drive her way back home again and I’d end up changing clothes anyway,’’ Jungkook simply says, even if the bitter edge to his statement doesn’t go missed by you.

You chuckle cutely, the sweet sound roaming at his ear. Is that why he’s upset? ‘‘Okay, alright.’’ You breathe lightly, sliding the light fabric of his shirt off his broad shoulders, his hot and inked almond skin on full display when you settle for less, throwing the piece to the side. Playful pecks follow at his shoulder blade, tender and deliberate. You trail your fingers lightly along the curves of his muscular back until you decide you had enough, rounding him until you straddle him, both legs on his either side. Cupping his face, you make him lock eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry for the late night drive. I probably shouldn’t have drunk as much as I did,’’ you confess softly, voice laced with a hint of mischief, hips carefully beginning to roll against his. ‘‘But I promise to behave next time, okay?’’

With his face cupped in your hands, you press your lips against his to pull him in a longing kiss, lingering a little longer than usual. You can tell he’s tired, that he doesn’t have much energy left over to deal with you, though your lips dance in unison anyway. Sweetly sucking onto your bottom lip like he’s hungry and you’re a free buffet. You watch as you detach from him, his eyes fluttering open after. “You’re in a good mood.” Jungkook hums with heavy lidded eyes on yours.

‘‘That’s because I had a good day.’’ You sing gently. Your wide, toothy smile would usually be one thing that he believes could halt anyone in their tracks. Though he beats you to it as you reach for another peck at the lips.

‘‘Hm, yeah?’’ He asks, head tilting. And even though his thumbs start caressing sweet circles at your exposed thigh, disappearing beneath the rich satin of your nightdress, all you can focus on is the tight line of his lips. The slight pinch between his brows. ‘‘My day was less fun, baby.’’

Your playful demeanor shifts at the seriousness of his tone, the straight face he gives you as he examines your every move unable to go unnoticed by you. It’s not like you’ve forgotten about the argument you had earlier today. It’s just that you’ve been in a position where you came as a second option to him all the time, so when the roles were reversed this morning, you didn’t have it in you to feel bad. Still, with a sympathetic expression, you lean in closer, a gentle whisper against his lips. ‘‘You want to tell me about it?’’ you ask, fully prepared to hear about all the ways he felt when you left the house like you haven’t been through it yourself.

He keeps his eyes on you for a minute longer and you can’t seem to figure out what is going through his head. Neither of you say anything and he keeps you in the dark for a moment, staring at you with those heavy lidded eyes that don’t bring you much further. “I’d drive around town to pick you up in the middle of the night, ___. You could call me at 3 in the fucking morning and I’d be there without another word.” Jungkook’s fingers tighten at your hips, gaze flickering to your lips. His voice is stern, like he’s preaching. You merely stare back at him with those big eyes of yours, like you wouldn’t have an idea where he’s going with this. “Late night drives don’t bother me at all.”

“Okay,” you pause carefully, head tilting to indicate you’re listening. “Then what does?” Two hands go through his black locks, pushing the hair out of his face as you begin to massage his scalp. The feel of your nails against his scalp is always so reassuring to him, even though not a hint of reassurance paints his face right now.

His lips press together. Why does he have to chew it out for you? You can’t seem to figure it out yourself and Jungkook’s patience is running on thin ice. It’s not a combination either of you like to see. “Don’t you know it’s inappropriate to keep employees on the job so long after business hours? It’s unprofessional, ___.” He drops the bomb, causing the fingers that are running through his hair to slow down. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home late?”

You can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I wasn’t working, Jungkook.” You laugh, though his mood doesn’t lighten up. “Taehyung and I were celebrating–it’s my first modeling job in years. We kind of had to.”

“With wine?”

You halt at the shift in his tone, at his voice that’s laced with accusation. The single brow that arches up his forehead as if he’s searching for a reason to be angry, to find fault in your actions. ‘‘Yes, with wine,’’ you reply, maintaining your composure. ‘‘What’s the issue? You drink wine with your colleagues all the time.’’

The air in the room becomes tense as he continues to scrutinize you, eyes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. ‘‘At social gatherings, yes. Not one-on-one in a room the size of my kitchen cabinet, ___, come on. What are you even on?’’

‘‘What am I on?’’ You repeat and pull away from him, back straightening as your hands fall to your lap. ‘‘Jungkook, I'm not on anything. I don’t know what you’re insinuating but I was simply celebrating a milestone with a very professional guy. You do that all the time. Is that so wrong when I do it?’’

His gaze remains fixed on you, his expression hardened. ‘‘It’s not about right or wrong,’’ he retorts, his voice sharper than it has been all night. ‘‘I’m just saying this guy is not your colleague, he’s not your coworker. He’s just some guy you met a couple days ago. I would have appreciated it if you had considered our relationship before indulging in a late-night celebration with another man.’’

Your eyes widen at his words, blood starting to boil when you cross your arms, jaw locked tightly. ‘‘Either you’re being very jealous and fucking possessive right now, or you’re making me feel like you don’t trust me.’’ You say, tone firm. ‘‘And it better not be the latter, Jungkook. Because we’ve been together for way too long to be worrying about this type of shit.’’

You watch him with anticipation but he doesn’t give you an answer right away. Just stares at you with those stern, dark eyes and raises a single eyebrow like you’ll have to figure it out yourself. ‘‘Oh my God,’’ you mumble in disbelief, flying off his lap and ripping his touch off you.

‘‘It’s not you I don’t trust,’’ he heaves a sigh, arms resting atop his knees as his hands intertwine. ‘‘I trust you, I always have trusted you. But him? I don’t know that guy, ___.’’ He points at the door with a flat hand. ‘‘And I’m not an insecure guy, you know that. I got nothing against him, but when you chose that guy to go to earlier this morning even after I told you I was ready to sit down and talk things through, then yes, it hurt my fucking pride. You just turned your back on me.’’

His words hang in the air as you stand there, his frustration and vulnerability obvious. ‘‘I’ve been in a position where I came as a second option to you before. Multiple times, Jungkook, don’t you forget that.’’ You scold him, keeping your voice calm. ‘‘You’re always scheduling meetings, saying yes to promotions and extra hours. Taking on additional responsibilities when you know our relationship can’t afford it right now… I’ve been ready to fix us for a long time, and I’d be the first one in line to give us all the closure we’re reaching out for.’’

You hover over him with the way he’s still seated, continuing. ‘‘But I’m not a puppet. You can’t just pull me out of the closet whenever it comes in handy, and you suddenly feel like talking things out. Like, you leave for that trip in four days and you feel like now is the time to talk things through?’’

He pauses, not uttering a single word for what feels like an eternity. His palms rub together like he’s in deep thought. And for a moment, you imagine what it would be like if your words finally seemed to work through, if they finally made an impact on him. You give him the time to process in silence, watching over him like a hawk, crossed arms over your chest.

‘‘Are you still going to see him while I’m away?’’ He finally asks, voice barely audible. His gaze fixates on a certain spot in the room, avoiding direct eye contact with you.

‘‘I don’t know, probably.’’ You huff, arms falling to your sides and losing all the hope you gathered before. ‘‘Are we still talking about Taehyung? I don’t see how this is relevant to the conversation we’re having.’’

‘‘It’s important to me,’’ Jungkook asserts, standing up from his seat and sauntering up to you with deliberate, measured steps. He takes you by the hand, guiding you a few steps further into the bedroom until you both stand in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and continues to wrap his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. ‘‘I need to know your answer before I give you your gift.’’

You blink slowly. A sense of weariness washes over you. ‘‘My what?’’

Jungkook holds you tightly, his front glued to your back like you’ll shrug him off anytime soon. His chest holds onto the same warmth it always has, radiating it to you and you’re instantly warming up at the feel. ‘‘You smell so good,’’ he digs his nose into a sweet spot at your neck, ignoring your confused state when he sniffs at your skin. Vanilla sugar scrub. The one he included in your valentine’s gift only a few years back, before you had gotten married. You had told him you loved it back then. And at first he thought you said it just to say it, up until the moment you started to swim in vanilla, only lasting a week or two with the product. Your brand new, shared bathroom permanently smelling like sweet vanilla and sugar, smelling like you.

You asked him where he bought it, but he wouldn’t tell. Don’t be such a guy, you told him. You had enough time in the world to run to the store and get it yourself. But he wouldn’t budge. Jungkook wanted to be the one to keep buying it for you. He wanted to be your guy; the one who bought you your vanilla sugar body scrub. And he has done it ever since he promised himself to become that guy. The one who made sure there’s a refilled bottle at your bathroom counter every month.

Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your collarbone. ‘‘It’d make me feel so good to have you on the trip, in my suite… smelling like this.’’ He says softly, veiny hands traveling over the thin, silky material of your dress until they get to slip underneath. Drawing gentle circles over your skin as you can only see the top of his head through the mirror with the way he buries his face in your neck. ‘‘I would be exhausted after working all day, but it’d be worth it. Don’t you think?’’

‘‘Jungkook…’’ He doesn’t give you much time to continue when his lips press against your skin. Wet, loud and lewd pecks left in an unfamiliar pattern down your neck.

Jungkook hums in the crook of your neck. ‘‘Maybe a change in environment would do us good.’’ His fingertips tickle you when they continue to feel you up, curling around the thin lace of your thong as he tugs at it. You’re unable to prevent the sweet gasp from coming out when it moves between your ass cheeks. “We’d get to be away from the house for a little while. To take all the time in the world to make up, to make sure we’re okay and ready to move on.”

You don’t stop him when his fingers carefully dip beneath the lace of your underwear, and you’re sure your brain has altered you from pushing him away. Altered you from standing your ground with two firm feet planted to the ground. Instead, you melt into him with the back of your own head prompted to his shoulder this time, bare neck on full display for him. You feel your knees getting weaker when he presses two fingers to your sensitive bud with a bit more pressure than you’re used to, his other hand holding onto you tightly to keep you standing.

It usually starts like this. One moment you’re arguing with him, pouring your heart out and laying yourself bare before him, and the next, you fall into him, forgetting what you were about to say next as you reach out for a breath of air. It doesn’t take long before you’re completely losing yourself in his arms, against his chest, two of his inked fingers dipping into your heat even as your walls begin to tighten around them. You don’t stop him, you love each drag of his thick fingers in your cunt as you stand on your tippy toes, tightly holding onto him at the nape of his neck while he fingerfucks you into another world. Jungkook sneaks a glance at you through the mirror every now and then. Once now, twice when he can feel his dick erect in his pants at the sight of your pinched eyes, your heavy breaths and your hardened nipples through your dress.

Jungkook brings you out to the bed when you nearly tip over without the heels of your feet supporting your weight. He lays you down carefully like you’re fragile, like you’ll break down any minute. Spreading your legs with your panties shoved to the side, he curses to himself when he laps at your sweet juices, coating his tongue as he sucks it up without a complaint as your fingers curl in his hair and back arches off the mattress. Pride is what he feels. Pride is what he feels when you tell him he’s wearing too much, when you tell him he could lose some and you wouldn’t mind. He does as you desire, taking off his dress pants as well as his already stained boxers to reveal the hard-on he’s been hiding. Red and swollen dick that’s so erect, it bounces back to his stomach. He watches as you eye fuck him, as your mouth waters only at the sight. At the ideas that swim through your head. It’s a tit for a tat, he tells you. A give and a take. You want him just as much as he wants you. It’s only fair you both get what you want.

It’s when you disregard your flimsy dress over the top of your head, tits bouncing back and hair splayed out over the bed when he feels like he starts to lose control. Fisting his cock in your warm, slick hand in between your bodies, you pump him up and down as he reaches for another kiss that leaves you breathless beneath him. He doesn’t mind you gasping for air every now and then, enjoying the feel of your chest rising up and down against his own. Hips thrust into your hand when your grip becomes a little tighter, a little more precise and a little more skilled, thumb reaching to tease at his tip. But he stops himself before he shoots his load right onto your stomach. If he’s coming anywhere tonight, it’s going to be inside you.

You know that’s exactly what he wants when you get to all fours for him. Knees digging into the made sheets, your face buried in the soft satin with your ass high up in the air just the way he likes. Jungkook’s hands are at your hips without hesitation, gripping onto your hips as he lines up to your sweet cunt. The first stroke is the one most careful. Even after being together for a total of 7 years, each and every time, you need some time getting used to his size. It doesn’t matter, whatever feels best for you, is what he has said from the beginning. After all, it’s all worth it when he gets to pound deep into you mere minutes later, skin slapping against skin as he watches your ass cheeks bounce back and forth.

He can’t take it. He needs to see all of you from each angle available. You’re not surprised when he gently tugs you up by the arm, though you nearly melt into him again and all your weight shifts onto him to carry back to the full length mirror leaned up against the wall. He pumps into your pussy there, making you watch as you get fucked from behind with a hand wrapped around your throat and an arm hunched around your waist to keep you glued to him. Your heavy breaths melt together the faster his pace increases, hitting your sweet spot with every pound of his hips into yours, with dirty thoughts slipping his tongue, with every drag of his cock into your dripping cunt while he consumes each plea coming from your lips. Begging him to fuck you until you lose it. Begging him to feel his cum inside you as you feel his every inch, feel his everything.

He does as you plead in the end. Jungkook comes undone inside you, your ass pressed against him while pretty whimpers leave your pretty mouth and he ignores his own panting to get the best out of you. His hips stutter when warm spurts of cum fill you up, leaving you like a mess hanging onto him with all the energy you have left over.

But he takes care of you after, like he always does. Jungkook lays you back onto the bed carefully, returning from the bathroom with a damp, warm towel as he cleans you up and hoists you back into your dress and beneath the slick sheets. He pushes your hair out of your face, pushes strands and pieces behind your ear and makes sure the sheets are pulled up to your shoulders. You lay on his side of the bed, eyes heavy lidded and ready to drift off. But he doesn’t mind. You’re exhausted, and for good reason.

‘‘Before you fall asleep, princess,’’ he begins softly, fingers gently brushing at your forehead to push off imaginary strands of hair, watching as your eyes flicker open slowly. ‘‘I need to give you my gift.’’

You had forgotten all about the gift.

Jungkook hovers over you, reaching for the envelope at his nightstand that has your name on it in that awful handwriting of his. He hands it to you and you take the piece of paper in your hands, fiddling with the corners of it as your eyes meet his again. He can’t quite pinpoint what it is that runs through your head, but your brows slightly furrow like you’re afraid to open it up.

‘‘It’s yours.’’ He nudges at your side, fist supporting the weight of his head next to you as he leans in closer. His voice is gentle, almost comforting, as if he wants to ease any worries you’ve been keeping from him.

You open it up, revealing another piece of paper inside of it.

First class passenger’s boarding pass.

He watches you intently, waiting for your reaction with those big eyes. ‘‘So, what do you say?’’ He asks impatiently. ‘‘Are you coming with me on that trip?’’

previous chapter I next chapter I series masterlist

taglist: @whoa-jo @iwishselena @multiasf @jjeonjjk7 @jungkookiesfavoriteleftbuttcheek @slut4jeon @kookswifesblog @taetaekibehen @fragmentof-indifference @sugakookie132 @ane102 @roguesthetic @namgikookfiles @guk97butterfly @jeonninja @latetaektalk @diorjgguk @royallyjjk @smexylittleswine @f7ilm @jklvrs-world @kooklv @kooslilhoe @koobunsblog @ireneleya @jeonninja @ninibuuuuu @namtaeh @bermudaisy @freakumfilm @lilyflowerguk @ellesalazar @kookthief @pointofviewyugyeom @tearyjjeon @codeinebelle @cxcotin @hrts4kook @bxcndd @borahaebich

please send me an ask to be added to the taglist.

#jungkook au #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fics #bts fic #bts imagine #bts fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

bakugoushotwife · 2 months

Text

𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖑 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 // 𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖚𝖓𝖆 𝖝 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

↪↪↪ cw: minors dni, dark content ahead. each chapter will come with its own set of specific warnings. true form sukuna, yuujikuna, timeskip/reincarnation themed. heian era into the modern storyline. gore, murder, cannibalism, weapons, blood, slight blood/knife play, reader is lowkey crazy, made up technique for you, very selfship coded at that, pregnancy, death of characters including reader but we come back, miscarriage/infant loss, i'm just making up sukuna lore, smut, uh he's sukuna please be serious, proceed with caution!

↪↪↪ summary: you welcome the feared sorcerer ryomen sukuna into your settlement, hoping he'll spare your village from his conquering streak. what you—and he—did not expect was a wedding two weeks later. sukuna never does anything halfway, and marrying you is no exception. he is a doting husband and then expecting father, until you unexpectedly pass away...the grief turns him from a raging sorcerer into a scheming and scorned widower. he can't stand the idea of anyone living if he doesn't have you. he comes up with the idea of turning himself into a curse on his war for revenge, and patiently waits for his time to return—to burn the world down forever. one thousand years later, his energy sings to life again, in a miserable excuse of a sorcerer—a boy named yuuji itadori. sukuna is ready to enact his plan, to exterminate everyone and hopefully find you somewhere on the other side of things when it's all over. what he didn't account for was you; again. he doesn't believe it at first—but yuuji's best friend was...you?

↪↪↪ notes from the author: hi hi!! i have been dreaming this dream for a while now, and i get to live it every day thanks to my beautiful and amazing roleplay partner and overall wifey extraordinaire, @suguru-getos . we've played with this idea when we wanted to figure out a way to give sukuna and myself something to stand on because in all reality he'd likely squash me like a gnat if he met me so this was something fun we came up with. i love the idea of sukuna the human having some redeeming moments and knowing love and pure happiness and for that to be a driving force for him to become a curse! once again this will have dark content so proceed at your own risks and read the individualized content warnings for each chapter!!

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖆𝖓 𝖊𝖗𝖆

⇝ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓

⇝ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖔: 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖎𝖗

⇝ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊: 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓…

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖊𝖗𝖆

⇝ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗: 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓...

⇝ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖎𝖛𝖊: 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓...

⇝ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖎𝖝: 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖓...

↯↯↯ comment to be tagged!! banners are by @/cafekitsune

473 notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

My Obsession

Pairing: Obsessive/Protective!Pierre Gasly x Innocent!Reader

Rating: R

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: Fluff, SMUT, reader is touched by male that is not approved (sex*al as**alt male touches reader & reader does say no just wanted to be careful and tag it) , physical violence, possessive behavior, obsessive pierre, toxic relationship, hand collar, p in v, oral (f receiving) spanking, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, good girl is used, Pierre refuses to let the reader go, I'm sure there is more

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: Please…please….this is not a healthy relationship and you need to be careful of this, in no way am I romanticizing this, just…read to many dark romance books since I’ve been sick, so enjoy my little fantasy that is so not healthy. Also this is for all the readers who love the dark romance plot as I do, just be careful peeps this isn't cute in real life. PLEASE PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK IF YOU UNDER 18 AND READ THIS, YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T BUT I'M NOT YOUR PARENT

As you lay in his bed, the clock down the hall chimes with a soft ding. Pierre should've been here already, but he wasn't. It's a hot summer night in France. Sighing, you throw the soft duvet back and pad to the terrace and open the doors. Pierre's French apartment was gorgeous; the Eiffel Tower was near his place, and you could watch the lights dance like stars.

His bedroom was white with splashes of color. His windows are lined with gorgeous pure white silk curtains that flow like water in the wind. The soft breeze cools your skin, but the heat is still clinging to your skin.

Looking down at Pierre's shirt, you unbutton it and shrug it onto a black armchair. You moan at the breeze hitting your bare skin, helping you cool down from the brutal warmth. Laying back down in his bed, you can get comfortable watching the curtains flow and the old clock ding, coaxing you to sleep.

Soft curses pass Pierre's mouth as he shoves open his front door. The smell of smoke and alcohol clings to his skin, but the hint of his cologne moves between the 2 scents. Cracking his neck, he looks around, ready to turn on a light, but stops. He notices your favorite sandals and purse lying on the couch, a smile tugging to his lips.

What was happening between you two was a puzzle. It was a puzzle where the pieces looked like they'd fit, but they didn't. You were the piece that clicked into place, but Pierre was the one that didn't work but still forced himself into your life.

People always said you were the sunshine, while Pierre was a storm that appeared from nowhere. When he first met you, he loved how you were so sweet and innocent, like a fragile flower. Everyone told you to avoid Pierre, but you couldn't help how he sucked you into his world. You didn't see the signs, how obsessed Pierre was with you, wanting to control everything about you. He wanted to put you in a cage and never let you go.

"Mon rayon de soleil?" (my ray of sunshine) He whispers, not sure if you are still awake. Seeing the time on the clock, you should be dead asleep.

Stepping into the bedroom, he stops seeing you on his bed, asleep and naked.

On your back, soft breaths leave your chest, moving up and down. Pierre licks his lips, watching your breasts move with your breathing. A breeze sends the curtains up, but you whine at the soft breeze ghosting your skin.

Pierre steps forward and sits down on the bed, fingers barely touching you as they follow the curves of your body. You move closer to the touch forcing Pierre to freeze, not wanting to wake you. Your body betrays you as sleep leaves, forcing you to blink and adjust before seeing Pierre watching you.

"Pierre?" Voice laced with sleep, sitting up slowly. Pierre moves, wrapping you up with the covers. Anger was bubbling to the surface when anyone could look through their windows and see what was his.

"It's me. Why are you sleeping-" "Naked?" You finish taking in his appearance. Pierre's hair was messy, his clothes crumpled, and you could smell the alcohol and smoke.

"Yes, anyone could see you. Did you stand on the terrace like that?" He growls, but you giggle, not seeing the possessive nature of his question.

"Yes, it's hot, and it felt good." You explain. Pierre wanted to be angry, but your innocence extinguished that quickly.

"Do that ever again, and your ass will be bruised and red. Understand?" Pierre asks, his grip on the sheets knuckle white.

A soft smile covers your face, leaning forward and kissing his lips. The slight tinge of alcohol coats your tongue before pulling back and nibbling on his bottom lip. Pierre drops the cover, arms yanking you into his lap and putting you into his chest.

"You're mine. Yes?" He asks, biting your neck, making you squirm and whine as Pierre pulls away, licking the bite mark.

"Yes, I'm yours." You assure him, hands tangling in his hair as he lays you down, trapping you between the bed and him.

"Take a shower first." You whisper, running your hands over him.

"Take one with me?" He begs, kissing down your neck to your breasts, about to suck on one of your tits, but you grab his face pulling him to look at you.

"Pierre, you smell like a club. I won't sleep next to you, smelling like that. I want my Pierre. Not the playboy the world gets." Pierre stares at you, seeing the anxiety in your eyes, among others.

"I'm yours." He whispers, slowly pulling himself off you as he walks into the bathroom and closes the door so the light doesn't bother you too much.

He looks in the mirror and sees why you refused him. He looked like his old self, not the one you were falling for. Turning the shower on, he groans at the hot water hitting his skin, relaxing him. The sound of the shower calms you as your eyes get heavy and soon close, having fallen asleep again.

Stepping out of the shower, Pierre sighs in relief, feeling clean and ready to be with you. Walking out, he stops hearing the familiar soft snores leave your mouth. Grabbing a pair of black boxers, he tugs them on and pulls back the other side of the covers.

He slides in slowly so he doesn't wake you as he lays beside you. With a soft whine, you move close to his body heat, knowing it is him, without waking. Reaching down, Pierre pulls your leg to lay over his waist, pulling you as close as possible, almost melding your two bodies together.

"I love you," He whispers, kissing your forehead. "You'll always be mine. Even when you leave, you're mine."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Waking the next morning, he groans and reaches out for you, only to be met with the cold spot you were supposed to be. Sitting up fast, he looks around the room seeing the terrace doors still open, the sound of a busy workday filtering up.

"Y/n?" He calls, and when he doesn't receive a reply, he bolts out of bed and runs down the hall. He freezes seeing you on the main terrace holding a coffee mug, wearing one of his white linen dress shirts.

"Mon rayon de soleil. Why didn't you answer me?" He snips, catching your attention as you smile up at him.

"I'm sorry, Pierre, I was listening to the people below. Didn't even hear you." Pierre runs his hand through his hair and sits across from you. He's settled after he yanks you into his lap.

"You should answer me when I call for you, babe." You just nod and lean back into his chest, relaxing to his hands running over your body.

"Why are you protective?" The question was soft, almost like it was meant to not be heard. Pierre's hands stop, trying to think of how to answer your question. Leaning forward, he kisses the back of your neck, wrapping around the front and turning you to look at him.

"You're mine. I'm protective of what is mine. I'm protective because the thought of someone taking you or leaving me drives me mad. I do this to protect you from people slamming cameras in my life. I do this for you." He whispers each sentence he moves closer till your mouth to mouth.

"Pierre." You gasp. His other hand had moved down your waist and between his shirt, fingers brushing against your pussy.

"Are you mine?" He asks, fingers slowly spreading you open, his thumb ghosting your clit.

"Mhm." You whine, grinding your hips down to get some pressure, but you get none.

"Words, Y/n. I want to hear you say it." Pierre growls, hand tightening on your throat.

"I'm yours, Pierre. I'll always be yours." You gasp, feeling dizzy from the grip on your throat. Pierre was always careful when it came to holding your throat and where. He never wanted to hurt you and learned how to do this safely and how to give you pleasure from it.

Pierre slams his lips into yours, mouth opening as you moan, feeling his thumb rub your clit in a circle. He groans and pulls away, biting your bottom lip and sucking on it before kissing you again, tongues meshing.

You pull away and moan when Pierre slides two fingers into you and curls them the moment you moan.

"Fuck." You sigh, your head resting on his shoulder, arm wrapped around his neck as you press your back into his chest, riding his fingers.

"That's it, Mon rayon de soleil. Ride my fingers." He groans in your ear, nipping it and pulling before returning to your pussy.

Pierre moves his left arm and wraps it around your waist and has your ass pressed against his crotch and moans in your ear when you grind right on his cock.

"Pierre, deeper." You whimper, cheeks bright red at how you're acting. You rarely did anything like this. It was dangerous to do this where anyone could see or take pictures. Yet, you didn't care.

"Aww, is my little slut needing more, hm? Beg for it." He groans, helping you ride his fingers, trying to get him to touch the spot where you craved him most.

"Pierre, please, please. Fuck I need you. God, I need something, your fingers deeper, your cock, anything, please, Pierre." You cry, eyes burning with tears as your body aches with want.

Pierre moans and stands up, pulling you with him as he stumbles inside, almost falling and landing on a couch, but you find yourselves on the floor in a mess of limbs and furious need.

"Fuck me, please, please I've been so good. I haven't touched myself since you've left. Please." You cry as Pierre nods, ripping his own shirt off. You watch the buttons tear off before you close your eyes crying out when you feel Pierre's tongue on you.

"Still so sweet." He mummers between your legs. You both make eye contact as you watch his tongue move up and down before wrapping his lips around your clit and biting; a broken moan, almost a cry, leaves your mouth.

"Pierre, please." As Pierre moves, you beg, sliding off his boxers and pumping himself several times. Grabbing his cock he runs his tip up and down your lips, watching as he coats his tip and slides into you.

Both of you are left breathless as you whine with the burn of him stretching you. Pierre liked to boast about his size. He was more girth than length, but fuck, he wasn't small by any means. Taking 3 deep breaths, Pierre tries to calm himself down, the way you clamp down on him. He knew it was due to the sudden intrusion and leans down, kissing your cheek.

"I'm sorry, sunshine, it's okay." He whispers, knowing you didn't like him slammed into like this.

"Hurts." You whisper, squirming, trying to get used to him.

"Shhh, it's okay. Take some deep breaths." Doing as he says, he smiles, nodding in approvement, feeling your muscles relax. He groans and moves, but you hiss, and he stops.

"Pierre....." He quiets you by kissing you with new tenderness than the erratic movements of lust from earlier.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Tell me, and I'll pull out, and we can forget about this." He moves to pull away, but you wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him.

"M fine, just warn me next time, yeah?" You ask. Pierre laughs and nods his head in agreement.

"Of course Mon rayon de soleil." The pain subsides, and you rock your hips up, causing Pierre to groan, dropping his head into your shoulder.

"Ready?" He asks, waiting for your confirmation, nodding your head, but he tsks, not liking that.

"Words." He always urges big on using words rather than a movement to make sure you are genuinely okay with this.

"Fuck me, make love to me, show my body that I'm yours. Own me." You moan, Pierre groaning as he bites your neck, marking you as his.

"I'm going to fuck you. Hard. Are you okay with this?" He asks.

"Yes." One word, and Pierre snaps.

Pulling out, he slams back into you as you scream, Pierre slamming in and out of you brutally. Legs wrapped around his waist, you hold on as he fucks you hard, pulling every little noise out of you.

"Fuck Pierre." You cry when his mouth bites your breast, leaving bite marks everywhere. They left an effect, but not enough to cause serious harm.

"Mine, always mine." He groans and lays entirely on you as his hips move quickly, fastly, barely leaving you.

"Should I fill you up with me? Should I leave myself in you, where you can never leave? Pump you full, fuck." He moans and rocks back, pulling you up so he's sitting, and you're on top.

"Ride me." He groans as you nod, getting comfortable resting on his thighs and move, sliding him back into you.

Pierre looks at you and smiles. Skin shiny with sweat, eyes blurry with lust and need, chest heaving with quick breaths. His eyes roll back when you move your hips in a slow circle and then a quick snap forward, teasing. You repeat this a couple times before you start to bounce. His arms pull you close, feeling your heartbeat against his own chest. Pierre watches you bounce up and down, moving fast as you whimper, feeling yourself close.

"Need more?" He asks, seeing the desperation in your eyes as you nod. Moving one arm, he puts it between you both and starts to rub your clit, making you stutter in your movements before regaining your pace and moving faster, chasing your high.

"Close." You gasp and clamp down on Pierre, whose own hips shoot up into you, muscles cramping as his cock twitches inside you.

"Come in me, fuck. Make me yours forever." You whisper. Pierre nods and moves his hips up to meet your pace before you gasp and come when Pierre pinches your clit, sending you over the edge.

Moaning loudly, Pierre holds you down on top of him as you both shake and breathe heavily. You giggle but slump against him as Pierre blinks, trying to clear his head.

"One way to start a day." You whisper, kissing his neck as you try to pull away, but can't muscle too tired.

Pierre smiles, fingers drawing shapes into your back, letting you relax before pulling out of you.

"Don't you have some party tonight?" You ask. Pierre's fingers stiffen and pull away slightly to look at you.

"Yeah, why?" He asks, trying to understand why you're asking. You never cared when he went out to party.

"Can I come with?" You ask and sit up, Pierre biting his lip as you giggle, feeling him twitch inside you. He can't say no, not with you staring at him, practically begging.

"Of course, but." He swallows, thinking of all the dangers and how he'd need you to stay by his side the entire time.

"You are to stay next to me the entire time." He points out, kissing your bottom lip and smiling as you nod.

"Pierre?" Pierre pulls away. "Yes, baby?" He asks, hands rubbing out your muscles, which has your eyes rolling back from how good it feels.

"Can you pull out of me now? I need to shower?" You ask, which has Pierre choking on his laughter as he nods and carefully slides out of you, and you sigh, kinda hating the way you miss him inside you.

"Shower with me?" He asks, a repeat of what he asked you last night. This time you accept.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You smile at your dress. Wearing a black ring-linked cut-out lantern sleeve bodycon dress that was skin tight, showing off your body and barely covering your ass. It was a risky dress to wear out to a club, but Pierre's friends would be there. Pierre would be there, so you knew you'd be safe to wear this out.

Pierre rounds the corner and freezes in his spot. All he could see was some guy grabbing your ass and him breaking his face. Taking a deep breath, he pushes away the thought and walks up behind you as you apply your lipstick.

"Look at you, so gorgeous and ready to ruin." He whispers, making you laugh as he spins you around, thinking of ways to ruin your lipstick.

Kissing you? Fucking your mouth? Having you choke around his cock, while he pulls your hair and calls you a good girl? So many ways to ruin it and so little time.

"Don't, Pierre. We have to leave soon." You groan and turn back around, placing the finished touches.

"Take them off." He smirks, watching you raise your eyebrow in confusion.

"Take what off?" You ask, unsure of his intentions.

"Your underwear. Take them off. I want to have easy access to your pussy, tonight." Pierre leans against the door, watching you as you think the idea over.

"If I bend over in this dress so much, everyone will see what's yours." Seeing his eyes darken and smirk replaced by a scowl, you smile, having not thought of that.

"Do that, and I'll pin you to the bed and whip your ass until it's bleeding." Pushing off the door, he smacks your ass hard, making you jump and bite your lip to stop the moan from escaping.

Pierre was sweet and wonderful to you, but he also had that domineering, controlling side that made you unsure if this was a healthy relationship. Being with him meant standing in the middle of a hurricane and being unable to move as the eye of the storm engulfed you. A part of you knew that Pierre wasn't healthy for you. But the other part of you craved that controlling nature and over-possessiveness. For some reason, it made you feel loved and wanted that he felt that for you. It wasn't suitable for either of you the way you were going. Yet, you couldn't leave one another.

Looking in the mirror, you swallow and reach down, pulling your thong off slowly and step out of them. You look back in the mirror, gain the courage, and walk out, heading to your purse. Pierre sits on the couch, and the moment you step out, his eyes are on you, watching your every movement.

You smile, wanting to rile him up. You bend straight down, which has Pierre about break his phone in half when he gets an eye full of your ass and pussy. You gasp when you feel his black jeans press right into you, almost knocking you over. Standing up, Pierre kisses your neck, teasing you.

"Are you still sore, my good girl?" He asks, not wanting to push you too far or hurt you.

"Mhm." You whine, feeling a slight burn that has Pierre stepping back.

"Okay, let's get going." Opening the door, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the Parisian nightlife.

You don't remember much until you are pulled into a nightclub with sweaty, drunk, messy people as they dance and drink. Pierre pulls you into his side and holds you close as he yells loudly, greeting his friends. You don't miss how one of his friends stares at you, licking his lips and smirking. You give the friend a shy smile and press yourself deeper into Pierre's side. Pierre looks down at you and kisses your head, keeping you close. For the first few hours, you have no problem until you head to the bar.

"I'm going for a drink; want anything?" You yell in Pierre's ear, the music so loud you have to shout for him to hear you.

"No! Want me to come with you?" He yells back, but you shake your head no. As you climb over his friends, you swear you feel someone touch your upper thigh as you pass, but you shake your head, knowing Pierre's friends wouldn't do that.

Stepping up to the bar, you wait for the bartender to notice you; instead, you feel someone press against you. Turning around, you freeze, seeing it wasn't your boyfriend but the friend from earlier.

"Can I help you?" You shout, but the friend laughs, trapping you between the bar and him.

"How 'bout you and I get out of here, and I test you out, hm?" He asks, hands squeezing your waist.

"Please let me go." You ask, terror settling down in your bones. He was bigger than you, and you didn't know if Pierre could see you.

"Why? We all know Pierre will toss you to the side when he's done with you. So why not warm my bed now?" He asks, pressing closer, and you wince with the harsh smell of his spicy cologne hitting your nose. You wanted Pierre's soft scent and hands touching you, not this person before you.

"Get off me!" You scream and start to thrash, but people ignore you, thinking it's two drunk people fighting. You scream louder when you feel his hand move up and try to get under your dress before he is ripped off you.

All you see is a flash and Pierre bashing his face in. People scream, the music coming to a halt; all you can hear now is bone-breaking as Pierre roars in French before security tears him off. You stagger after them and into the humid night of Paris.

Security shoves past you as you watch Pierre take deep breaths and then look at you. His eyes matched that of a wild animal that was trapped inside a cage.

"Pierre-" You slam your mouth shut when he reaches out and pulls you into his chest, holding you close.

"Fuck, this is my fault. I never should've let you around them. I'm sorry Mon rayon de soleil. God, I'm so sorry." His voice breaks, allowing someone close to you to even let them almost hurt you right before him.

Pierre knew something was wrong when you didn't return or when he saw that bastard eye fuck you, then go after you saying he was getting a new beer before he finished his fresh one. When he saw you scream and that fuckers hands try to get under your dress, he snapped. He wanted to kill him, but that would mean witnesses, and he decided to just beat the fuck out of him instead.

"I'm okay." Your soft voice brings him out of his thoughts as he steps back and pushes your hair out of your face.

"If I ever see him again, I'm ripping his throat out. I never should've- fuck." He groans, seeing the tears in your eyes. "What did that bastard say to you?" he growls, ready to return and land a few more punches.

"Are you going to throw me away?" Pierre feels a wave of new anger hearing you speak those words.

"What?" You sniffle and wipe your eyes, makeup starting to smear as your adrenaline wears off, what just happened and what the person said to you finally hitting you.

"He said I was just warming your bed and that you'd toss me away like trash and that I should move to his bed before you threw me away." You gasp, wiping your eyes quickly, trying to stop the tears.

Pierre grabs you, tilting your chin and forcing you to look at him as tears run down his hand.

"The only way you are leaving me is if I'm dead. And that fucker will lose his tongue when I see him next. I am yours, and you are mine. We're made for one another and damned for life, but we are together. Are we poison to each other? Yes. But no one will ever love you more than me. You're not trash; you're not just warming my bed. You're my fucking queen, mon rayon de soleil, my fucking oxygen. You're doing it for the rest of your life when you lay in my bed. Don't forget that. You're my obsession." Pierre growls before kissing you with such softness you melt. His words were harsh and needy, but his kiss was soft and reassuring.

"Don't leave me." You whimper; Pierre moves to pick you up and hold you close.

"Never." He whispers, knowing he would he'd anywhere you were. He'd always be by your side.

"Take me home?" You ask, making Pierre smile. This was the first time you called his place home.

"Yes, sunshine, we're going home." He whispers, walking down the street and taking you to his place. The entire walk, you cry into his shoulder as Pierre walks into the apartment.

He helps you out of your dress, wipes you down with a warm washcloth, and does your face wash routine. You sniffle and move, wrapping yourself around him after Pierre slides on a soft shirt of his. He walks into his bedroom and lays down with him on top of you, knowing the pressure would help you calm down.

"I love you." You whisper after a few hours. You had calmed down. Fingers tangled in his hair as Pierre sighed, glad you were feeling better.

"I love you too, sunshine." You fall asleep into a soft dream with a smile on your face dreaming of you and Pierre, damned for eternity with the madness inside you both, not caring if you were poison for one another. He was your fallen angel; you were the angel he was dragging down, and you didn't care if you were damned. You were his.

2K notes · View notes

subbmissivesuccubus · 4 months

Text

Bondage~

A/n: This was day 3 of my Kinktober! Bondage with Nanami. As the title says, there's bondage and very strict dom Nanami as well as pain play. And fem reader so enjoy!

You gulped as you waited in the car, Nanami talking to Ichiji. You really screwed up and somehow, your nerves were dulling the pain of your injured foot. Waiting for Nanami, who you knew was furious at you, was somehow worse than fighting a special grade curse.

You didn’t regret what you did. Sure, Nanami, your supervisor, ordered you to stand down as the curse was far stronger than you could handle. He ordered you to not act rashly and to think twice before leaping into action as this particular curse could create illusions and make people see things that weren’t there. But when you saw a crying child screaming for help among all the chaos of Nanami fighting the curse, you couldn’t stop yourself from rushing in. Nanami’s bark for you to stop fell deaf on your ears as you ran to the kid, only to see that it wasn’t real and within a second, something stabbed you through the ankle.

But the curse stabbing you using its claw was just the advantage you needed. You brought out your cursed tool, a long sword and sliced upward, injuring it enough to make it stop in its tracks and that was all Nanami needed to quickly slice it into pieces. You fell to the ground with a shout of pain, Nanami kneeling beside you as he gently grasped your ankle. You watched as the claw lodged into your foot disintegrated away, leaving behind a nasty, bloody hole in your-

The man quickly placed his hand over your eyes, shielding you from the sight. Without a word, he took his tie and wrapped it around your ankle with one hand, telling you to power through the pain. Once it was covered, the tie instantly soaked in your blood, the man lopped his arm under your knees before lifting you up in a princess carry. You grimaced as any movement made your ankle scream in pain, but you managed to not cry. You didn’t want to cry over this when you’ve seen your peers and even Nanami deal with injuries far worse without making a big deal about it.

But as he carried you to the car, you noticed it. You’d been Nanami’s underling for some time now and have gotten to understand his limited facial expressions and this was one you’d seen a few times before now. His jaw clenched, his lips frowning, his eyes in a small squint as he refused to look at you.

Uh oh.

He was pissed.

You jumped as the car door opened, Nanami being done with his conversation as he sat in the driver’s seat. Once the door was closed, he started the car, the engine purring back to life. “S-Sir-“

“Quiet.” The man ordered, not looking at you as he stepped on the gas, “I’m taking you to Shoko. We’ll talk after.”

You gulped. You were well aware of what ‘talking’ meant.

~~~~~

You closed the door behind you as you entered Nanami’s bedroom, the blonde man having gone in before you. Your ankle was as good as new thanks to Shoko, not even a scar left behind. But now, you had to deal with the consequences of your actions.

“So,” Nanami said, taking off his jacket before draping it over a chair, “You decided to disobey my direct orders. What made you think that was a good idea?”

“I-I saw a child, Sir.” You responded, “I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“You knew the curse had the ability to create illusions.” The man said, hands in his pockets as he looked at you, “Rushing in like that was foolish and dangerous. And I don’t train my underlings to act on stupidity.”

“I know, Sir, but I couldn’t risk it.” You defended, “I knew there was a chance the kid wasn’t real but the possibility of them actually being there- I needed to make sure.”

“You think a child would just randomly pop out of nowhere in the middle of a fight?”

“…Stranger things have happened?”

Nanami sighed, grabbing onto his glasses before pulling them off of his face, “You know you’re going to get punished, right?”

“Y-Yes Sir.” You replied, heart starting to hammer in your chest, “I’m ready.”

Nanami was your superior, the man who was willing to have you as a sidekick but that meant you were his responsibility and when you did something dangerous and stupid, he took it as his job to properly…educate you. And he was very very good and getting your lessons through your head.

“Strip and get on the bed.”

You nodded and did as he told. Blood rushed to your face as you started to unbutton your top, shrugging it off of your shoulders. You did the same for your pants, the fabric pooling between your legs before you stepped out of them. With a gulp, Nanami still watching you, you moved your hands to your back and unhooked your bra, your breasts bouncing a bit as they were freed from their confines. Your ears turned red as your nipples perked up, clearly anticipating what was to come. Finally, you slipped your thumb into the hem of your panties before you pulled them down, stepping out of them as well. Completely naked, Nanami watched with his arms folded over his chest as you crawled onto the bed and laid down on your back.

“Do you remember your safeword?” he asked. You nodded, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as Nanami grunted. You noticed that he had already prepared certain props on the bedside table, mainly, a long coil of red rope. Your eyes widened as Nanami got on the bed as well, straddling you. Knees planted on either side of your ribs, you looked up at the man, his stone-cold expression somehow making your body run hot.

“Tell me.” Nanami said, grabbing a tie from the bedside table, “Why are you being punished?” “B-Because I disobeyed you.” You said, gasping as he placed the fabric across your eyes, blocking out your vision. “And?” he asked. “A-And I got hurt.” “That’s right.” Nanami said, tying a knot at the back of your head, “You know better than to disobey me, right?” “I-I’m sorry Sir.” “You will be after I’m done with you.”

Your body shivered at his threat, your cunt growing wet from his words. Everything felt so much more intense due to his tie around your eyes. With the lack of vision, all of your other senses were heightened. His deep voice, the heat emanating from his body, his touch, his scent- all of it took over you, making you feel dizzy.

You gasped as Nanami’s hand slid to your back, pulling your body up enough for him to slide a rope underneath you. You gulped as you felt the familiar material brush up against your skin, the man getting to work. He first started off with your chest, his rough hands tugging the rope tightly as he wrapped it around your breasts, making them pop out deliciously. You didn’t need to see to be able to feel Nanami’s eyes on you, taking in every inch of your skin. You let out a yelp as he pulled on the final knot, the ropes digging into the fat of your breasts.

He let out a satisfied hum, eyes taking in how delicious your tits looked but he wasn’t going to give you the pleasure of his touch. Not yet, anyway. Nanami moved down your body, settling between your legs. Your face was a bright, beet red as he grabbed your knees and spread them, exposing your pretty cunt to him. Hooking his hands underneath your knees, he pushed them up, making you yelp as he folded you, pressing your knees against your chest.

“Hold your legs up.” He ordered, ignoring the flustered expression on your face as you did as you were told, your breathing laboured as you replaced his hands with your own. It was a whole new type of embarrassing holding your legs up yourself, exposing your cunt even more for Nanami to ogle at. “This might hurt.” He warned before grabbing another strand of rope. His other hand gripped at your foot gently before pressing down, getting it as close to thigh as possible before you felt the rope start to wrap around it. Oh…Oh! He was literally wrapping your leg closed. The rope was being looped around your calf muscle and your thighs to press them together, rendering you unable to stretch your leg. He did the same with the other leg, now both your legs being tied tightly.

“Hand.” He ordered and you obeyed, giving him your hand. Your heart started pounding even faster when you felt him take your hand to your ankle, pressing your wrist against your foot before tying the two of them together. Legs tied so they’re always folded and now, your arms tied to your ankles which gave you little to no freedom of movement- if you moved your legs, you’d have to arch your back and if you moved your hands, you’d have to press your knees to your chest.

“There we go.” He said, clearly satisfied with the job, “Now you can’t run around, disobeying me, hmm?” You nodded, gulping down your saliva as you took inventory of your body. Tied up and ready for him to do whatever he wanted. You felt him get off the bed, hearing the sound of him rummaging through his drawer where you knew he kept his…toys. After a few seconds, he was back on the bed, his heat grazing your skin as he leaned over you.

You shivered and gasped as he lapped his tongue along your nipple, his heat and wetness feeling wonderful on your sensitive bud. He sealed his lips around it, giving it a couple of sucks before his teeth nibbled on it gently. Each time he bit down it made your body twitch, pressing against the red ropes that held you down to perfectly, reminding you each second of how you were tied up.

But before you could enjoy the feeling of him showering your nipple with attention, there was suddenly a sharp pain on your sensitive bud- a clamping sensation that was squeezing your nipple so tightly it took your breath away. “Ah!” you screamed at the pain, “S-sir-“

“Hold still.” Nanami said calmly as he made sure the nipple clamp was secured. He roughly grabbed your other breast, leaning down to give it an apologetic lick before he clamped that as well. Your back arched, legs aching from the stretch as you couldn’t help but scream from the sensation, the clamps so tight it made you dizzy.

“How pretty.” Nanami said, making you let out a loud scream as his finger suddenly flicked at the clamp, “don’t start crying already. I haven’t even started.” “I-Its hurts!” “Good.” He responded, not caring about your cries and whimpers, “But if it hurts so much, why is your pussy getting wet, hmm?”

You squealed as you felt the man gently run his finger along your cunt, rubbing between your folds and getting soaked in your slick. He eventually made it two fingers, his index and middle finger spreading your wetness around before he started rubbing gentle circles over your clit. You moaned, tossing your head back against the pillow as the pain on your nipples and the pleasure on your clit was fighting for your attention, your body shivering at every rub- at ever beat of your heart.

“Naughty girl.” Nanami said, tutting as he gently inserted one fingers inside you, the slide easy due to how wet you were, “This is a punishment, remember? Who gave your pussy permission to get so wet?” “M’ sorry- I’m sorry-“ you babbled, head in the clouds at the various sensations. “I’m sure you are sorry but I think this cunt needs a reminder of who controls it.” “S-Sir?”

Your heart leapt to your throat at his words, knowing full well of what Nanami was capable of. You felt him take his fingers and spread your pussy lips apart, flinching as he blew some air on your clit. No doubt, your bud was plump and sensitive from his teasing touch, the cute nub peeking out of its hood. Nanami smirked as he stared at your twitching pussy, flicking your clit a few more time to really get it to swell up before-

He snapped a clamp onto it.

The scream you let out was piercing, your whole body folding but unable to do anything or move in the way you wanted it to. He watched as you squealed and writhed on the bed, the pain of your poor clit being squished between two wooden clamps too much for you to handle. “Control yourself.” Nanami barked, secretly enjoying the view and your reaction, “You look pathetic.” “Sir! Sir- Please!” you begged, mouth open as you screamed, each movement making the clamps on your body feel like they were growing tighter, “It’s too much- It hurts!”

“You know what word to use if you really want me to stop.” Nanami said, reminding you that you could use your safe word and opt out. He gave you a few seconds but when you showed no indication of using it, he continued: “Will you disobey me again?”

“No Sir!” you responded, tears in your eyes from the crushing pain, “Never again- I promise!”

“When I tell you to do something-“

“I’ll do as you say- I’ll do anything you say!”

Nanami clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Don’t. Interrupt me.”

Your body shivered at his tone, wanting to curl up from disappointing him but you couldn’t move. You sobbed our whimpers of ‘sorry’s’ and you couldn’t help but think of how pathetic you looked to the man. But luckily for you, he liked you pathetic.

“Open your mouth.”

You gulped before you did as ordered, opening your mouth wide. You waited as you felt the man move up the bed and you realised; he was straddling you once more, his knees planted on either side of your shoulders. You jumped as you felt something press against your lips- something hot and hard and throbbing- something you were more than familiar with.

“This is a punishment.” Nanami growled as he rubbed his cock against your face, grabbing it by the base before slapping it on your tongue a few times, “I’m going to fuck your face, cum down your throat and I’m not going to go slow. I don’t care if you pass out, understand?”

“Y-Yesh Sir.” You responded around the cock on your tongue.

“Snap your fingers if you need me to stop.”

You nodded, jaw already aching. Your poor nipples and clit still throbbed from the pain but you hopes sucking his dick would provide enough distraction. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled, making you arch your neck more before he slowly started pushing into your mouth. “That’s it.” He groaned as his cock got enveloped by your hot, wet heat, “Take it…take it…take it all the way down…”

He was only halfway in and you were already gagging. You tried to steel yourself as Nanami continued to push forward, ignoring your gasps and gags. You shut your eyes closed behind the makeshift blindfold, opening your mouth up as much as it could go until finally, Nanami bottomed out.

Nanami moaned, tossing his head back as he enjoyed the sensation of being stuffed deep inside your throat. Your tongue clumsily lapped at the underside of his cock, drool seeping out from between your lips as his balls throbbed against your chin.

This was going to be your punishment. Tied up, unable to touch him, body writhing in pain as Nanami uses you for his pleasure. You didn’t know it at the moment, but once he’s done using your throat, he was going to leave you like this for a while, forcing you to steep in the pain while your pussy throbs for pleasure and release. And no matter what, you were not going to cum tonight.

Gripping onto the headboard, the man started thrusting, immediately picking up the pace just like he said he would. He groaned above you, gritting his teeth as he started fucking your face, his heavy balls clapping against you, the slick sound of your wet mouth choking around his cock echoing through the room.

You’d better not pass out.

#subby writes #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu nanami #nanami kento smut #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #kento nanami

422 notes · View notes

teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

High Infidelity III (the end)

Adult!Neteyam x (f)Metkayina!Reader x Ao'nung

Warnings: smut (fingering, oral - m and f receiving, spitting in mouth, anal play, p in v, creampie, praise kink), mentions of cheating, cursing, violence, blood, 18+ minors dni for the love of god !!!!

Word count: 6k words

Notes: honestly i need to be doused in holy water after writing that, but i'd probably just burst into flames anyway. i hope you enjoy reading the last instalment of High Infidelity, and I hope it's everything you've ever wanted and more, cause omg, did I enjoy writing it besties. thank you for all the love of this series, I really felt it. i love you all sm xoxoxo

previous part (x)

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love

The slowest way is never loving them enough

Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?

Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?

Neteyam’s face snapped in the direction of your voice, an unreadable expression marring his beautiful features.

“What did you say?”

You were boldened and empowered by the ache running through you, by all the feelings that mingled into a cocktail that looked a lot like bravery, that looked a lot like you were going to finally give in to your biggest desires and wildest dreams.

You moved closer to him, taking slow, purposeful steps, until you circled around him and kneeled in front of him, in between his legs, placing on hand on each knee to help you, and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered as you noticed the goosebumps on his skin where you touched him.

You looked at him intently, wanting to show him that you meant it, that you were in this, that there was no doubt in your mind, no wavering in your resolve.

“Neteyam… I want you to fuck me. I’ve needed you, ached for you since the moment on the beach, since you apologised, since you were kind to me and showed me there’s more to life than men who take and take until there’s nothing left. That there’s more to love than what I’ve known all my life. That when it’s right, you’ll know it in your gut, you’ll know it in the way your whole body reacts like it’s been set on fire, or like it’s been set free.

I should have called it off the second I knew I started having feelings for another. I was afraid, afraid of the consequences, afraid of breaking people’s hearts, afraid of broken expectations and unfulfilled bonds, but I am not anymore. I’m not afraid anymore, the only thing I am afraid of is living without knowing this feeling, living without knowing I’ve done everything in my power to give in to you.

You told me one day I’ll beg you to fuck me. So here I am. I am begging you to fuck me. To take me. To show me all the things I know only you can. The things I only want you to.”

Neteyam’s expression turned wild and fervent, and you felt the growl he let out deep within you, deep in your core. His hand went to your jaw, that he brought closer to his face, so close, your eyes were struggling to focus on him, and the tint of green in his yellow eyes. You found yourself tracing each gleaming dot on his face, each stripe that marked his skin like a battle scar, his full lips that were parted, the deep breath that came out through them and into you, and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes, allowing yourself to drown in the weight of his presence, in the weight of the feelings he brought out of you.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me. You have no idea what I’ll do to you. I told you you will beg me to fuck you, but baby girl, when I do it, I’ll do it until you’ll beg me to stop. Until I’ve made you come so many times, until you’re so drunk on my cock you can’t see straight anymore.”

“But not tonight. I don’t know what happened in the time you went away, but we are doing this the right way this time. I won’t risk losing you again. You can sleep it off, sleep the drink off and the night off, sleep Aonung off, and tomorrow, if you’re ready and you’ll still want me, I’ll be here for you, and I’ll be yours forever.”

You whined as he let your jaw go free and your mind twirled with images of his words come to life, burned in your imagination forever, gnawing at you to make them come true.

“But I want you now. And I know you want me to, I can see it in your eyes. I’m here, I’m begging you, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“That is what I wanted, just when you’re sober and not reeling from Aonung’s mistakes. Come, I’ll take you home.”

You woke up dazed and confused, needing a long while before realising you were back in your marui, back to the comfort of your sleeping mat and loosely wrapped in thin covers. You slowly rose, quickly regretting it, as the motion made you dizzy and nauseous and want to reconsider every moment that made it so this was your current life. Flashes of last night and all the hurt it brought with it started appearing in front of your eyes, furthering your sullen mood and unhappy state. So much happened, so much that you would give anything to forget.

As the world settled a little around you, you noticed a little trinket on your mat, next to where you lay your head. It was a bracelet, you noted in shock. A beautiful, intricate bracelet, crafted with a technique and materials characteristic of the Omatikaya.

Neteyam…

You immediately removed the bracelet that was already on your arm and swapped it for the one you were holding tightly in your palm, and tried to not think what a perfect allegory this was, how this was the beginning of your new life. The beginning of new love.

Your body loved the touch of the breeze as it caressed your skin, soft and tender, like a lover. It was necessary, like the air going in and out of your lungs, keeping you alive, allowing you to keep going. You tried your best to relax, tried your best to remove the anger and anguish for one man, need and ache for another, both of which felt like poison coursing through your veins, and tried to replace it with other, less intense emotions, like the relief of knowing, despite the hurt and the pain, that you could finally be free of Aonung, free for the first time in your life to make your own decisions, to live outside of the expectations and the burden placed on you since you were young, free to follow your heart, free to grow and be yourself, and to discover who that is to begin with.

You felt entranced by the beauty of the nature surrounding you, that you grew up with, that you’ve experienced every day of your life and yet somehow never took for granted, never fully got used to it, as you allowed your feet to feel the soft grainy sand beneath them and the water splashing over your ankles and calves as you walked on the beach that felt like your safe space, like your haven in the storm. You thought about Neteyam and his words, about the bracelet he left on your pillow and how it felt against your arm where it now resided and it will continue to for as long as you could help it, how even this gift was a perfect metaphor of your past and present. Aonung’s bracelet was beautiful and opulent, with rare stones and shells, with what he thought you wanted, but in reality, it was harsh and it scratched at your skin every time it was on your body, leaving friction burns and scratches that left you bruised and bloodied if you weren’t careful. When you lost it, you didn’t realise it, you just felt freer and weightless. Neteyam’s bracelet was understated and carefully crafted, with soft leather and round, polished pebbles, and it felt like velvet touching your skin, it felt safe and healing. It felt like the calming nature around you, like the warmth of the sun caressing your skin. It felt like new beginnings.

As your mind wandered over the events of the past few weeks, and those of the past few years, you came to the conclusion that this, this whole mess, is not about Neteyam or Aonung. Not anymore. It might have started that way, it might have been what set everything in motion, but it wasn’t the whole picture. This wasn’t about two men. It was about you and your life, your past and your future, and who you wanted to be moving forward. It was about realising that the shackles that bound you to one destiny were loose and rusted, and with a little force, you could be free of them, free at last to be more than who your chains led you to believe. The dark feelings that possessed you made you aware that there was more to you than what you thought, than what everybody thought. The ache and need you felt for Neteyam showed you you were a woman now, a woman who wanted to learn and explore her sexuality and learn what makes her body tremble, what makes it convulse in pleasure. Kissing him and letting him explore your body allowed you to see you were capable of wrongdoings, you weren’t just a two-dimensional being with only positive and light coming out of you, but you had a darkness in you, you had the capability to be selfish and put your own needs first, something you have never done before. The anger that enveloped you when you heard Aonung cheating on you, the thirst for revenge and vindication, the way you told Neteyam that you wanted him, showed you that you were strong, that despite your and everybody else’s view that you were frail and weak, and not a warrior, there was something in you - a power, strong and unflinching, an infinite untapped potential that you swore you would get to know in time.

You were so deep in your own thoughts, that the tug of your arm that spun you around almost knocked you to the ground, and you had to swallow the vomit that rose in your mouth at the harshness with which you were handled.

“We need to talk.”

As soon as the world stopped spinning around you, you were able to make out Aonung’s body and his face, sullen and tired, and you knew instantly he was battling a mean hangover, much worse than yours. You found yourself smirking at his state, hopeful that he was suffering and revelling in knowing he did.

“I’ve been looking for you for fucking ages.”

“Well, you found me. What do you want?”

Aonung’s eyes went wide at your words. He wasn’t used to you talking in such a way, determined, devoid of tears or quivering lips, of soft words and a trembling voice.

“What do you mean what do I want? You fucked off with another man last night, with the tree hugger of all people, and you’re asking me what I want? I want you to explain to me what he was doing there, and why you chose to leave.”

You were so shocked by the nonsense coming out of his mouth, so flabbergasted that the only thing you could think to do is laugh. A crazy, maniacal laugh that continued until there was no more breath in your lungs.

“You know? I knew you were a selfish, self-involved, self-centered jerk for so long, and yet I was continuously blinded by my own desire to see the best in people, the best in you. I held a flicker of hope that the kid I knew was still there, somewhere deep down inside of your shallow soul, but I see now I was blind. You want to talk? Fine, let’s talk. How long have you been fucking another girl, Aonung?”

You watched as Aonung’s mouth opened and then closed, and did so a few more times, while he was trying to come up with an excuse or an explanation, and you felt so free, so weightless, it was like you were floating. No more guilt, no more angst plaguing you, just a light, soft feeling, like a warm hug or sleeping on a cloud.

“Was yesterday the first night? Was it a drunken mistake? Did causing me pain, almost forcing yourself on me turn you on so much that you just needed to do it desperately, that you couldn’t help yourself?”

Your questions were once again met with nothing, no sounds, not even a twitch of the ear or of a facial muscle, no hint that your words were even registering in his mind.

“Come on, Aonung. You said you wanted to talk, let’s talk. Did an Akula get your tongue?”

“Fine, if you don’t want to talk, how about I talk? We’re over, Aonung. So, so over. You want to know why Neteyam came to get me yesterday? Because he’s a better man than you will ever be. Because even on your best day, you aren’t even a fraction of him on his worst day. Because in a few weeks, he has managed to make me feel things you never have, because in just a few weeks, he showed me there’s more to me than what you led me to believe, more to love than what I grew up thinking. And you know what else? I let him do things to me you could only dream of. I let him touch me in ways you never will, let him pleasure me in ways you couldn’t if you tried. And it was amazing. And I will do it again and again, while you will live your life knowing you blew the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Unsurprisingly, that seemed to wake him up from whatever trance he found himself in. The surprise clear on his face made way for panic, a quick brush of sadness that settled finally on anger, deep-seeded anger, manifested through flared nostrils and shallow breaths.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. Good luck, Aonung. I hope one day you grow the fuck up, but it won’t be for me to help you through it. Not anymore.”

“You’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you? You act all high and mighty with me, refusing me what’s mine, what was MY right, and you go give it up to some asshole you just met? I guess it’s true what they say, it’s the quiet girls. Always the quiet girls.”

You tried to not let it affect you, his words, his horrible words that somehow manage to pierce through you like knifes, and kept your gaze steady on his face contorting in anger.

“Leave, Aonung. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You turned around to follow you own advice, but found yourself again being yanked back like a rag doll by his much larger hands wrapping around your arms and pulling.

“I’m not fucking done, you sl-“

The bone crunching noise that rang in your ear as Neteyam’s fist made contact with Aonung’s nose was weirdly satisfying, and you watched as the Metkayina man was knocked straight to the ground, blood pouring from his face and dripping down his chest. The impact was so powerful that his blood splattered over your face, painting you in red spilling drops. Whatever form of sympathy you felt for Aonung left your body the moment he called you a slut for doing something he was doing behind your back just a night ago, while not taking any accountability or exhibiting any ounce of remorse. You felt a sick satisfaction, watching him try to gather himself, hand on his nose, forehead scrunched up in pain and confusion. Neteyam put his body in between you and Aonung, taking a few steps in his direction.

“Leave. Now. If you ever, ever touch her again, if you ever look the wrong way at her again, the next thing I break is both your legs.” His voice was low and unflinching, calm and unperturbed by any emotion. He was scary. So scary, you felt that voice in every fibre of your being, and you assumed Aonung did, too. You watched as he got to his feet slowly, and a little wobbly, turned around and started walking away.

“I would tell your parents it was unfortunate, but it didn’t work out. That you felt like I wasn’t the right person for you and you felt bad stringing me along. That you fell in love with someone else. You choose, but I would hurry. Unless you want me to tell them what happened, but then you might not get to keep your family jewels, and I’m sure the girl you were fucking behind my back last night would be very disappointed about that. Good riddance, Aonung.”

You couldn’t stop staring at Neteyam, at this man who drove you to the point of madness, who made you want to do things that Eywa herself would cower in shame at, whose back was tensed with each deep breath he took as he watched Aonung leave like a wounded animal, like the coward he was. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, making you light up with excitement and need, making you pant with the aftershocks of the fight, with animalistic desire at how powerful and forceful, how brave and imposing he was. As Aonung disappeared from sight, and from your mind forever, you watched as he turned to face you, a desperate wild look haunting him. He approached you and you were able to take note of the blood on his face, that adorned him like war paint, and on his knuckles as his hands found their way to your face and hair.

“Are you alright?”

You just nodded, too overcome with his presence and all it invoked in you to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. That you had to go through that.”

You shook your hand and placed a hand on his, smiling softly.

“It’s over. It’s finally over.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, would not wait any longer, and you swiftly closed the gap between you and kissed him. Kissed him the way you have dreamt since the moment you saw him on the beach, kissed him like your life depended on it, like your sanity hung in the shaky balance between his touch and your body, like he was everything. The taste of blood on his lips did nothing to deter you, emboldening you instead, and he moaned in your mouth before deepening the kiss, lifting you in his arms effortlessly until your legs wrapped around him. He only broke the kiss to replace your mouth with your collarbones and chest, and you threw your head back as his touch brought fluttering in your stomach and throbbing in your core, that was calling for him, begging him to fill you.

Neteyam knelt slowly with you still in his arms, handling you like you were no heavier than a child. His strength and physique never failed to amaze you, and right now, neither did the bulge that brushed against you as he guided you onto the ground. You propped yourself up onto your elbows and stared at it, at him, until he smirked and lifted your gaze onto his own by a touch of your cheek.

“Like what you see, princess?”

You gulped and nodded meekly. He took your hand in his and placed your palm on his hard erection, and you couldn’t help the way you started feeling him, tracing its curve and girth, or the soft moan that escaped you at its feel, at how tight the loincloth was stretched around it, at how big he felt, at how empty your brain was at the thought of it slamming into you over and over until you saw white.

He spoke lowly, teasingly, while reaching for your loincloth, that he loosened and removed without any effort.

“Feel that, baby girl? It’s all for you.”

He pushed you on your back by placing a hand on your chest and used a little force to spread your legs, and you were puny in his hands, malleable to his touch, willing to be whatever it was he wanted you to be. He swallowed as he took you in, admiring you while his fingers trailed over your folds, reaching down south until they circled another little puckered hole, eliciting a small gasp from you at the prospect of what was coming.

“All for you. All for this pretty pussy, and your tight little ass, for this fuckable mouth.”

“So, so fuckable, I don’t even know what to start with.” He pushed two fingers in you without any warning and you dropped to the ground and arched your back almost on command, so excited to finally get some release, any release, like you have needed for so long. Soon enough, it became too little, and you found yourself needing more, much much more.

The bucking of your hips was met with a mocking chuckle and words that made you whine in frustration.

“Not yet, baby. Not yet. You’re not ready for my cock yet. We need to get you ready, and you need to be a good girl and get me ready. Come on, on your knees, my love. Gonna fuck this pretty face, first… what do you think? Do you like that idea, pretty girl?”

You moaned at his words, but did what you were told, rising on your knees, noticing dripping going down your leg as you did so, and came face to face with his hips as he rose in all his perplexing, over 9 foot glory. Being so close, so close with the bulge you were just caressing earlier, knowing faintly what was hiding underneath, made you almost vicious, and you found yourself reaching for his loincloth, untying it hurriedly, your urgency making Neteyam scoff lightly, patting the top of your head in a gentle and surprisingly loving motion.

“So eager, my love. Eager to get stuffed with my cock, aren’t you?”

As the loincloth fell to the floor, so did the rest of whatever pathetic inhibitions you had left, taking in his length, that was even bigger than what it felt like under the loincloth, so big in fact, you were genuinely concerned at how it was ever going to fit in your mouth, fit in you. Your wide eyes didn’t go unnoticed by the Omatikayan, who lifted your chin so you could meet his gaze, and whatever expression he was met with made a low growl emerge from his lips, and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

You couldn’t wait any longer without his touch, without feeling him, so you tentatively grabbed his cock in your hand, struggling to make your fingers meet as you wrapped around his base, and you started stroking him up and down, all the while grinding on the ground, trying to get any relief from the enormous pressure building in your core. Primal curiosity took over you as you closed your lips around his tip, dying to feel the taste of the liquid spilling from it and you moaned around his cock as it was better than you could have ever foreseen. The sound and vibration made Neteyam push your head closer to his body, and you gagged slightly as his impressive length made its way down your throat.

“That’s it, baby. Look how well you’re taking my cock. You’re doing so well, princess.”

Without any warning, he started a slow pace in and out of your mouth, holding your head in place with his hands, and fuck, you loved how he was using you as his own personal sex doll. It was so obscene, so filthy, so so good. He felt so good in your mouth, his sweet taste flooding your every sense, welcoming him further in, until your nose was touching his hip bone and his balls were slapping against your chin with every thrust. You wrapped your hands around his thighs, propping yourself to get a better angle, to be able to suck him off the way you wanted, the way you knew he wanted.

“Look how you’re dry humping the ground with my cock so deep in your mouth. You want to be fucked, don’t you, baby? Such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?”

His unrelenting pace made tears appear in the corner of your eyes, spilling down your cheek, mixing with the saliva pooled around your mouth, that dripped all over his balls.

“You’ve never looked prettier than when you’re getting your face fucked. So pretty, princess. Those fucking eyes looking up at me, all innocent, so wild, so - fuck, you will be the death of me.”

“Gonna let me come in this pretty mouth, huh? Want to suck me dry, baby girl?”

You mewled approvingly around his cock, hallowing your cheeks and pushing your tongue against him to drive him to his release sooner, wanting, needing to feel him, to own him, a piece of him, like he owned you, like he would - forever.

“Ohh, fuuck - fuck, princess, just like that. It’s like you were born to suck my cock. Doing so well for me, baby.”

Hot spurts of thick liquid came shooting down your throat and the deep guttural groans he released as the orgasm washed over him was almost enough to bring you to your own - you’ve never heard something more erotic, something more salacious, something better, in your life.

“Good girl.” He slowly removed himself from you and pushed you back into the ground, towering over you, his still fully hard length slapping over your inner thigh haphazardly. “Do you feel what you do to me? Feel how hard I still am for you? I’ll never get enough of this body, princess. You will be dripping in my cum by the time I’m done, this is what being next you does to me.”

His lips crashed against yours aggressively, and his tongue pushed past your teeth into your mouth, exploring you, tasting himself on your tongue. His cock twitched and brushed your dripping folds and you whimpered in his mouth. He smirked at the sound, and positioned himself alongside your core, started slowly grinding his length on you, teasing you, bringing new tears to your eyes and unintelligible sounds to his ears, that revelled in it, that thrived off of how much of a pitiful, writhing mess you were under him.

“Please, Neteyam. Please, fuck, f-“

“You’re still not ready for me, princess.”

“I-I’m ready, please, I’m so fucking ready!”

He tutted in disapproval and removed his body from yours, leaving you empty and aching. You tried closing your legs together, but that too was promptly interrupted by his hands, keeping them far apart. He started a torturous ritual of kissing and licking every part of your body he had access to, masterfully avoiding the only places you wanted, needed to be touched. He started with your collarbones, and down your sternum, alongside your abdomen, and hip bone, your thighs, and inner thighs, and you were crying, the pleasure so great, and yet so incomplete it was hurting you, it was turning into pain.

“Neteyam, I - “

“Hush, baby. Let me take care of you. Let me show you why it couldn’t have been anyone else but me.”

With that, he placed a tender, barely there kiss on your bare pussy, then another one, and another one. His mouth closed around your clit, sucking on it softly, alternating between it and kitten licks, and the rough texture of his tongue made you see stars, made you convulse around his mouth. His tongue moved languidly, drawing numbers on your swollen pussy, pushing into you and lapping at the liquid falling down his chin. You tasted like heaven to him, like a ripened summer fruit, like a flower in spring, blossoming around him, inundating his smell, coating his tongue in its aroma. He loved seeing you like this, all of this, falling apart at the seams in pleasure, tears prodding at your eyes, lips parted and cheeks flushed, chest heaving up and down, hands in his hair, pushing his tongue deeper in your sopping cunt. He loved all of it.

Two slender, long fingers made their way inside of you, feeling you, curling them to massage the perfect spot, the spot he found last time, the spot he knew would make you come undone, and he couldn’t help the arrogance in his tone as he talked.

“Come for me, princess. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

Your orgasm flushed over you, the most intense feeling you have ever felt, and you now understood why he edged you for so long, and even in your dazed mind, you were grateful that he seemed to know your body better than you knew it yourself.

He continued licking at your entrance, not wasting a drop of your cum, not when it was better than any liquor, better than any drink he’s ever been fortunate enough to taste. When he finished, he got back on top of you until you were face to face, and you noticed weakly the glistening on his chin as your juices coated it, and the smirk he had on those beautiful lips that was unrelenting. He knew he was amazing, he knew what he was doing to you.

“See, baby? I know what you need. I’m what you need. Open your mouth.” You did so, no questions asked, and watched as he spit in your mouth, licking your lips in order not to miss anything, humming to yourself as the taste of your own cum registered on your tongue.

“Feel how good you taste. So fucking good, princess.”

“I think you’ve suffered enough. I think it’s time you get what you deserve for being such a good girl. The best girl.”

You felt his arm on your abdomen as he reached down and aligned himself with your folds, his bulbous tip rubbing against your warm, aching entrance. Slowly, gently, he starts sinking into you, allowing you to feel each inch, allowing you to take in the delicious stretch, and the feeling of you wrapping around him brought shivers down his spine. The mewls escaping your lips fuelled his hunger for your body, fuelled his need to push you until you were so overstimulated, you were blacking out with him still deep inside your cunt.

“Eyes on me, baby girl. Look at how deep in you I am, I want you to watch me fuck you.” Neteyam’s cock twitched inside of you at your incredulous expression, at your wide eyes and fucked out face as your stomach deformed slightly, a bulge appearing every time he pushed deep into your cervix. It drives him to the point of insanity, that look, and he starts a maddening pace, quick and rough, rutting into you deeply, watching as your tits bounce with every thrust.

Your mind is blank of any thoughts and full of immeasurable pleasure, unholy sounds escaping your lips like a prayer, like a litany to keep going, to not stop, because fuck, this is the best feeling of your life, being so owned, so free, so helpless, so in control of your own desires, so full, full to the brim with pleasure, with love, with his cock. You start to see stars, as the now familiar feeling draws closer, and your entire body starts shaking in preparation for the wave you knew was about to hit you any second. His thrusts are unrelenting, hitting your cervix mercilessly as your walls tighten around him, wanting to keep him, to never let him go.

“That’s it, baby. You’re clenching my cock so tightly, want to come all over me, princess? Want to cover my dick with that sweet cum?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Yes yes yes!”

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as the orgasm drowns you in overwhelming, toe-curling sensations, and you start doubting you will ever see or hear properly ever again, as the world is enveloped in a white, over-exposed glow and your ears lose their ability to discern the waves and the birds flying above you.

“We’re not done, my love.” You barely registered his manoeuvring your now limp body, turning you upside down, so that your chest was flush against the ground as his hands lifted your ass up, his cock once more prodding at your entrance, and you whine, crying as you are barely able to understand what is going on, much less able to appreciate the way he’s spreading your ass cheeks, massaging them slowly, purposefully, while he sinks back into your wet, sensitive, throbbing cunt.

“Neteyam, I can’t anymore… ’s too much.”

“You can, baby. One more for me, come on. I promised you I’d fuck you til you can’t see straight anymore, and I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“You say you can’t, but look how good this pussy’s taking me, look how it moulds around my cock, how you’re squeezing me. You’re so good for me, princess. I can’t believe I get to do this, can’t believe you’re mine.”

A slap on your ass makes you yelp in pain, waking you up like from a daydream.

“I need to hear you say it, my love.”

“’m yours, Neteyam. Yours.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. And I’m yours. You own me.”

You can’t help the way you instinctively push back on Neteyam, can’t help the way, even in this fucked-out state, you’re still searching for more, you still need him deeper, need him to fuck you dumb, fuck you until you’re passed out on the sand. You match his animalistic thrusts the best you can, moaning loudly, wildly, as each of them takes the breath out of your lungs, as each of them fills you up to the brim, as each of them takes you closer to that third release.

“M-more. I need more.”

“You filthy girl. Such a slut for me, aren’t you? My little slut, drunk on my cock.”

You gasp as his thumb traces your asshole, then slowly removes it and brings his hand to your face, his other hand caressing your lower back.

“Open your mouth, pretty girl.” You did as you were told, and he pushed two fingers inside your mouth and down you throat, and you sucked on them, allowing your tongue to trace in between them, coating them with your saliva.

“Good girl.”

He moved his hand back to your ass again, and slowly pushes one finger in, ignoring the mewling sounds spilling past your lips. He started moving his finger in and out of you slowly, adding the other, all the while rutting into you like a rabid animal in heat, pushing you forward with each thrust, holding you tightly by your hips, leaving imprints on your sensitive skin that you knew would be bruised when this was all over. You loved it.

The feeling of his cock burrowing deep inside your core and his fingers moving in an out of your ass slowly was too much, and you were bracing for the snapping of the coil that has been tightening inside of you, knowing that when it snapped, so will you, and your last remaining consciousness.

“You gonna let me cum in this pussy? Want me to fill you up real nice, paint those pretty pink walls white?”

You tried to answer, but only ugly whimpers came out, and by the sound of his melodic laugh, you knew he took that as a yes.

“Come on, princess. Be a good girl and milk my cock dry.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, as the orgasm took everything out of you, and you would take everything out of him, as a result. He was right. When he was done, you were so drunk on his cock, you really couldn’t see anymore. And as he lowered his body on yours, resting his chest on your back and peppering small, gentle kisses on the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings and telling you how good you did, you knew you were excited not be able to see straight every day, for the rest of your life.

thank you again to everyone who likes, replies and reblogs and asked to be tagged, i love you all x

@jackiehollanderr @afro-hispwriter @sanranrin @universal-s1ut @neteyamforlife @arminsgfloll @avatar-on-top @neteyamsyawntu @farleyis @jjkclub @doulcha @adaiasafira @teyamsmate @ang-taylorsversion @junnniiieee07 @americanbeauty-americanpsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @netemoon @shayligames-blog @hotmenwhoree @yan-ghost-yan @iikatsukii @rgbsona @moneyoverl0v3

2K notes · View notes

sooniebby · 1 year

Text

ఌ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

꧁ 𝘼𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖! 𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙭 𝘼𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Teaser ➤ he loves what he can’t have

Word count › 1.6k

Rating › NSFT

Warnings › none

Kinks › a/b/o, light mention of creampie

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

“What the fuck is your problem?”

(Name) hated Geto. And he hardly hated most things. It was the day before December 24—a day that Geto will kiss the earth goodbye. But it didn’t matter right now. It’s not like he knew anyway.

“I didn’t say anything. Does my presence anger you that much?” Geto asked, eyeing the man in front of him. His scent was sour—due to Geto being in front of him.

(Name) rolled his eyes. “Knowing you’re still alive pisses me off. Now fuck off.” He said, turning to continue on his way home before he felt something behind him.

He panicked, which in hindsight was such a stupid plan of action, and he fell back onto the concrete. On his back, he stared straight up at Geto who looked at him with a simple smile. He wished he could just kick that smile off his face. But he knew his strength level.

No way in hell could he realistically fight against Geto and survive.

“You act like an omega.”

(Name) blinked before a growl left his throat. Being an omega wasn’t bad but it was certainly being used as an insult by Geto. He slowly stood up, wondering to himself if he should risk his life just to get a slap at Geto.

He decided against it and rolled his eyes. “Better an omega than a brainless alpha.” With that, he side stepped Geto and continued on.

But he didn’t get too far when he bumped into Geto.

“Oh for fuck sakes!” (Name) yelled, wishing he hadn’t taken that late night mission for a random curse. He was just about ready to push Geto but was quickly stopped by him.

Of course. How could he go against Geto with his noodle arms? (Name) stared at Geto, waiting for him to speak. Or possibly kill him. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Geto in the head these days.

He’s changed from high school.

“You’re not as smart as you seem.”

“Oh okay. If I wanted to get insulted I would’ve went to my mother. Thank you,” (Name) laughed bitterly before prying himself out of Geto’s grip. He was shocked, a bit scared really, at how easily he bruised from it.

Geto shook his head. “I like you.”

(Name) blinked. He stared.

And then he walked away.

What type of sick joke was that?!

“Hey!”

(Name), he would never admit this, shrieked when he was grabbed by his shoulders and shoved up against the nearby tree. Only the street lamp in the park illuminated the angry look on Geto’s face. He sighed softly before pulling at (Name)’s sweater, revealing his neck.

“Oi, what the—?!”

“You’re really dense.” Geto muttered. “Since my previous actions never worked—I’m trying something different.”

And then he bit him. (Name) choked, reaching up to grasp his shoulders but he didn’t push away. He was an alpha… but he liked this. It was going to leave a scar but he was into it. But he wasn’t about to get used by Geto for some quick sex.

(Name) moved his hand and scratched at Geto’s neck, causing him to pull away. He didn’t even show any ounce of pain. (Name) really was weak compared to him.

“I’m not some quick fuck. Especially if you’re trying out alphas. Go to Gojo if you want that.”

Something flickered in Geto’s eyes but it was gone in as fast as it came. He only chuckled.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, sure it will.”

“I mean, you’re a virgin. How could you know unless you tried?”

(Name) blinked.

“Okay, get the fuck off me.”

“I can easily change that.”

“I don’t want you near my ass.”

Geto smirked. “So you know I’ll fuck you?”

“If I let you fuck me will you leave me alone?”

A flicker of disappointment was on Geto’s face before he quickly hid it. “Yes. Are you sure you can handle an Alpha’s cock though?”

“I’m sure an alpha can handle another alpha,” (Name) rolled his eyes.

And how wrong he was…

ꕤ

“Do you think any of those monkeys could satisfy you like this?”

(Name) mewled in pain at the newly fresh bite on his neck. He hated how good this felt. The two of them got to (Name)’s apartment and Geto was on him as soon as the door closed. (Name) didn’t want to know why Geto was so experienced: easily tearing off his clothes and using the lube to open his ass.

It was certainly an odd experience. How could an omega actually like having a finger up their ass? (Name)’s cock was aching to release his knot but Geto would always squeeze it whenever he felt he was too close.

“You seem… nng, obsessed with those ‘monkeys’ you hate,” (Name) gasped at the squeeze on his knot. He muttered out an apology as Geto pulled out his fingers, licking them as (Name) watched in embarrassment.

“Disgusting…” (Name) muttered.

Geto simply hummed as he pulled down his pants, letting out his cock. (Name) blinked in fear. Holy shit. He was larger than him in every category. The knot, the length, the thickness.

How the fuck was that supposed to fit in his non-omega ass?!

“Don’t look so scared. You handled my fingers well—my knot should be easy.” Geto grinned.

(Name) was scared and he did not try to hard it as he watched Geto slowly push it inside of him. It was painful. He would not lie to himself that he felt like crying as his scent soured once more. Geto’s own scent was hardly there. It was never really there, even in the past.

He had said he just learned to hide his scent… But right now, like an omega, (Name) wanted to smell something calming that contrasted his own. But he didn’t want to ask that. It felt odd for an alpha to ask about something like that from another alpha.

(Name) gripped the bedsheets underneath him, hoping it would get easier soon. But his knot stopped him. Geto’s knot was too fucking big to fit inside of him. (Name) whined in embarrassment, ignoring the chuckle he got from Geto.

“You need to relax. It can’t go in if you’re tight.”

“Don’t talk about me like that…” (Name) muttered but tried to calm his nerves. It was hard but he tried to calm himself. An unknown smell began to intertwine with his own. It was Geto’s…

(Name) would never tell him, and he would never get to, that his scent was the most calming one he’s ever smelt. It was a basic vanilla swirled with cinnamon. He hated how his heart swelled and he wanted to smell this forever.

He wanted to be drenched in it. Could an alpha really like another alpha’s smell this much?

Before he could ask this question, he came. His orgasm was the most intense thing he had ever felt. Back arching and mouth opened wide in an open scream. And it all only happened because Geto’s cock was now fully inside of him.

(Name) didn’t dare look at Geto. He knew the little shit would be grinning like he won. (Name) could tell that his knot was still there. Despite him cumming, it still swelled, ready for release.

Geto leaned down and easily pushed (Name)’s legs up towards his head. A simple grin on his lips as he bit harshly on the fresh tanned skin beneath him. He wanted to make sure (Name) would wake up with these marks for weeks on end.

If only he was an omega he could mark as his forever.

He pushed it into the back of his mind as he began thrusting, enjoying the way (Name) tried his hardest to hide his moans. Each little thrust touched something deep inside of (Name) that he’s never touched before.

He remembered his alpha friends talking about it before but he never knew he was missing something this pleasurable. The sound of squelching from the copious amount of lube they had to use for a hole not made for penetration was taking over the room.

His bed squeaked as the thrusts got quicker. Geto’s unusual strength beginning to shine through with each particular thrust. The little moans coming out of his mouth was that similar to an omega.

It shouldn’t have turned him on but it did. He truly felt like he was becoming Geto’s.

Embarrassingly enough, the sex didn’t last long. Geto seemed ready to pop his knot much faster than (Name) anticipated. But he was glad, because he was holding in his knot so he wouldn’t embarrass himself cumming first.

“Are you ready for my knot?”

“Eh?” Was all (Name) could say before he felt the similar pulsating that he knows is a knot swelling into release. He whined in distress before being pulled into a surprise kiss. It stopped any sort of complaints on his lips as he, embarrassingly, returned the kiss in full.

He loved it. He wanted to stay like this with Geto. The feeling of his seed coating his inside as if he was an omega. The feeling of his lips on his as they kiss in the moonlight seeping from his closed curtains. The feeling of his hands on his body.

The warmth that they’ll no longer hold.

They pulled away from the kiss and stared at each other. There was no longer any words exchanged. It was silent. But that was all they needed.

But in the morning, he was gone.

ꕤ

It was a new year. (Name) still hated Geto. He also came to hate Gojo but it was for a silly reason.

(Name) cleaned off any dust he got from his recent fight and was ready to get home. The bite marks that Geto had once given him were beginning to fade and he wasn’t sure if he was sad or relieved he wouldn’t see them in the mirror anymore.

He yawned to himself and covered his katana with it’s usual bandage until he felt someone in the building with him.

He turned around quickly, aiming his katana at their chest, ready to cuss out whoever it was until his nose smelt something. Something he hadn’t smelled since a few weeks ago.

“Geto….?”

“Now you and I both know it’s no longer Geto in this body, (Name).”

Oh, he fucking hated Geto Suguru.

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Requested by @xweirdo101x

This came out way more sad than I originally planned but I wanted to show off my angst chops!

Thanks for the request! My requests are open if interested!

#bottom male reader

1K notes · View notes

lovingmattysposts · 4 months

Text

You dont know me 4

P1 P2 P3 P5 P6 P7 P8 P9 P10 P11 P12 P13 P14 P15 P16 P17 P18 P19 P20 P21 P22 P23 P24 P25 P26 P27 P28 P29 P30 P31 P32

pairing: y/n and chris sturniolo

summary: you and Chris came from two different sides of the spectrum when it came to the social scale. You had the perfect life, the perfect boyfriend, the perfect parents, but when you start to peal back that layers things got messy. Your life was set and stone, your future was set and stone. That was until he comes and changes everything.

warnings: suggestive, cursing

chris pov

I didn't sleep. How could I fucking sleep? The way she looked up at me with those eyes. I should have just kissed her. I couldn't. I knew I couldn't. God, but the way she looked up at me like she was ready to risk everything. Her lips. They way she licked them. I cursed myself the whole way home. She was just high. That's what I kept telling myself. She didn't really want to kiss me. She probably woke up this morning regretting even alluding to the fact that she wanted to. I didn't. I woke up still angry at myself that I didn't.

She didn't want to be like that though. That's what she told me. She didn't want to be that girl who cheats on her boyfriend. She didn't want to be seen like that. She didn't want to see herself like that. So I wasn't going to make her see herself that way. We kissed once. One amazing, hot, gut wrenching, head spinning kiss. That was it. That's all it's ever going to be.

The tension was so thick, she had to have felt it too. It was suffocating me. I wish I wasn't so attracted to her. I wish I didn't think about how she would look if she was underneath me. How her head would be back into the pillow. The sounds she would make. How she would feel. The way her nails that she scaled across my arms would feel over my back as I-.

I had to stop. I'm literally in public.

"It's not fair! Coach can't do this to me! This is our regional qualifier! He knows he can do it without me on defense!" Nate yelled to me as we sat in class. I wasn't really listening. Not with the unholy thoughts going through my mind in this moment. God. Is it hot in here?

"Are you even listening?" Nate spat at me. I sat up in my chair and looked at him and nodded. He crossed his arms. "Yes I am. The coach benched you because you had too many penalties. Listen Nate, it's part of the rules. If he forgoes the rules for you, how is he suppose to enforces them on someone else when the same thing happens to them?" I asked leaning up raising my eyebrows. He huffed and leaned back.

"Since when do you care about rules?" He rolled his eyes. I shrugged. "I don't. I'm just telling you why this is happening to you" I said shaking my head. He slammed his hands on his desk. Jesus, he's dramatic. "You know he would never do this to Hastings! He has it out for me. I think Hastings pays him to play" He said shaking his head. I smiled and shook my head.

"Whether he does or doesn't. You're a better player Nate, and it's only for the first half" I said looking at him. He huffed and mumbled to himself. I rolled my eyes. "You're coming right?" he looking up at me. I looked up at him shaking my head profusely. He held his hands up. "You're my best friend, you have to come" He argued at me. I shook my head.

The bell rang and we grabbed our stuff as we made it out of the classroom and into the hallway. Nate ran up beside me. "You can't argue me on this. This could be the most important game of my life. I need you to be there" He said looking at me.

"I said no. It's three hours away" I said shaking my head. Nothing was going to convince me to go to this game. "And you say that about every game" I said looking at him. He shook his head. "Because every game is more important than the last! Please come, no one comes except for the coaches wife and kids, some of the parents, and the princess" He rolled his eyes.

I stopped and looked at him. "Y/n?" I asked looking at him. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms. "Yeah also known as Max's girlfriend, might I add" He said raising his eyebrows. I huffed. "Don't tell me you've got it in for princess over here" He said laughing at me. I glared at him. "Don't call her that" I said looking at him.

"What you don't want me to call her that because you started fucking Labraut over here?" He asked smiling. I grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side of the hallway. "Would you keep your fucking voice down?" I spat at him. He looked at me with wide eyes. "You like her" He stated looking at me. I glared at him.

"Nate stop" I stared at him. He shook his head. "Whatever. Come, don't come, see if I get a fuck" He spat before turning and walking away. I sighed. I didn't mean to piss him off. I just don't know why he gets so bent out of shape about Y/n.

Whatever, I didn't have time for this. I turned to start walking the other way when I saw her. She was leaned against the locker talking to her friend. She smiled and squeezed her eyes shut laughing at whatever she said. I smiled looking at her. God, I can't be her friend.

Y/n pov

"Why won't you tell me about anything that happened?" Sydney asked leaning up against the lockers. I looked over at her crossing my arms. "I told you what happened, I went over there asked him to keep his mouth shut and I left. That was it" I lied right through my teeth. She raised her eyebrows.

I kept my game face. I didn't mention the drugs, the hand holding, or the almost-kiss. She didn't need to know about any of it. What Sydney doesn't know can't hurt her. I don't need her to be worrying about the fact that Chris and I were friends now. She would make a big drama out of it. That I don't need.

"Well did he say anything else?" She asked raising her eyebrows at me. I shook my head. "Nothing else. It's over let's both forget about it" I said looking at her. I needed her to drop this. She sighed. "Why did you choose him to kiss anyway? He's like a ghost, he barely even goes here I think" She laughed.

I clenched my jaw. I didn't like her talking down on Chris. There was no reason for it. She doesn't even know him, but I didn't need to defend him. I didn't want her to get suspicious of anything. Not that there was anything to be suspicious about anyway. We're friends that's all.

I shrugged.

"I don't know. I barely even know his name" I forced a laugh out of my mouth. All of the sudden as if on cue, the locker a few lockers down slammed shut. We both turned from the sound. I saw Chris looking back at me with a straight face for a second and then turn and walk off.

Fuck. He heard me.

I closed my eyes and sighed looking down. Great start off of a friendship. God, I'm a bitch. I grabbed the rest of my things out of my locker and slammed it shut, starting to walk after him.

"Y/n" Sydney said making me turn back around. She shook her head with a nervous look on her face. "What are you doing?" She whispered back loudly. It turned around and watched Chris turn the corner of the hallway. I turned back to Sydney, biting my lip. Fuck, what do I do? I tapped my foot on the ground.

"Hold on" I said quickly before darting off after Chris. I can't have him think I meant that. He can't think I meant that. I shook my head at myself as I moved around the rest of the people in the hallway. I whipped my head around, looking for any sign of him. No where. He disappeared. He's good at that. I bit my lip as I circled the hall. I stopped when I saw a door that led outside.

I turned my head side to side to see if anyone was looking before opening the door and walking out. I turned and saw Chris leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette. I sighed of relief as I walked up to him. He didn't look up at me as he took the cigarette out of his mouth.

"Hey" I breathed. He didn't respond, just looking out to the parking lot. I sighed. I set my bag down and leaned next to him. "Look I'm sorry, it's just Sydney she-" I stopped myself. This excuse makes me sound like an entitled bitch. I shook my head.

"I'm just sorry I shouldn't have said that" I said looking at him. He showed no emotion in his face. I licked my lips waiting for him to respond, but he didn't as he took another hit.

"I just don't want her asking questions" I said looking down. Still nothing. Silence. I tapped my foot on the pavement. Why wasn't he responding? Did he not care? Did I piss him off so bad he just wanted to forget the friendship completely? I couldn't have that. Fuck. I pushed his arm, he just looked down at me.

"Chris, I'm sorry" I said again. He just looked back forward. Silence. I sighed and looked down. Okay. I wasn't going to force him to speak to me. I get it, it was bitchy. I leaned down and grabbed my bag and threw it over my shoulder before walking back towards the door in defeat. I grabbed the handle when I stopped. I turned back around and walked forwards slightly.

"I know you Chris" I said looking at him. He didn't look at me. I set my bag back down. "I know your last name is Sturniolo and that you moved here halfway through sophomore year and I know that no one knows why." He looked over at me. Dropping the cigarette by his side.

"I know that Nate is the only person you talk to at this school, because I've never seen you with anyone else" I said shaking my head. "I know that you only take honors and ap classes because you're viciously smart for some reason. I know you used to play track and stopped because you got into a fist fight with the coach's son and that you go to every single one of Nate's games, because I see you there" I smiled shaking my head.

"I know you moved from Massachusetts because of your accent and I know you absolutely hate parties because you looked miserable at the last one and I know you only go because Nate wants you there and you go because you care about him" I breathed. "I know you're the most angry and hostile guy at this damn school, but only when people do something wrong not because you just like to beat up people for no reason." I laughed. He still stared at me.

"And I know that there's a heart buried somewhere down there because you're choosing to save my relationship and I can't understand why" I said shaking my head. He pursed his lips and looked down. I sighed and reached down for my bag.

"That's-" He breathed. I looked up at him, dropping my bag by my side. "Really fucking scary that you know all of that" He laughed lightly. I smiled at him. "I'm not creepy, I'm observant" I stated looking at him. His face fell into no emotion again, before sitting down against the wall.

I just blinked down at him. He sighed and looked at me before motioning next to him. I smiled and set down my bag before way to eagerly walking over him. I basically skipped, it was pathetic. I plopped down next to him and leaned my head against the wall.

He held his cigarette up to my face. I scrunched my nose and shook my head moving his hand away. He looked down at me, smiling. I smiled up at him. God, the tension. Why did it always have to be like this? Why couldn't I just sit with my friend, and not want to melt into his eyes and give him every single part of me?

He looked away from me. I played with my fingers as he blew smoke out his mouth. I looked over at him. "Why don't you do hockey?" I asked looking at him. He didn't look at me. "Take out your aggression on a puck instead of people?" I smiled looking down. He shrugged. "Not my thing" He mumbled. I nodded slowly.

"Plus Nate is better than me at it. It wouldn't be good for my ego" He said smiling down at me, making me smile at my hands. "I'm not that much of an angry person" He mumbled. I looked at him, and he looked at me. I furrowed my eyebrows. "I once saw you beat up Sam Wright for bumping into you in the hallway" I laughed. He smiled and shook his head.

"That was because he was talking bad about Nate's sister" He said shaking his head. "He was just asking for it when he bumped into me" He smiled. I nodded. Questions circled my mind about him. I wanted to know everything about him. I want to know what makes Chris, Chris. I probably shouldn't have but I started with the most obvious one.

"What made you move to Michigan?" I asked quietly. He stared forward. Silence fell between us. Thick, awful silence. I looked up at him when he didn't respond. He wasn't looking at me. his jaw was tight as he stared out onto the parking lot. I couldn't read the expression on his face. I hoped that I didn't overstep a boundary. The energy between us shifted into uncomfortable silence. I swallowed.

"What you didn't like kill someone or something did you?" I laughed attempting to lighten the mood between us. I hated whatever was going on right now. I should have just dropped it, seeing the hurt on his face when he looked at me.

I felt my heart drop in my stomach from his look. My eyebrows furrowed. He turned from me throwing the rest of his cigarette on the ground and standing up grabbing his bag roughly off the ground.

I just looked up at him as he marched towards the door.

"Chris" I said as he opened the door and let it slam behind him. I felt guilt wash over me. What did I say? I frowned and looked down at my feet. Why am I so naive sometimes? I stood up slowly, wiping my hands on my jeans and grabbing my bag off the ground, before walking back into the building. I turned and looked down both hallways, he was no where to be seen. God he's so good at that. I bit my lip as I walked to class.

I couldn't focus the rest of the day. Calculous, Biology, Health, nothing. I didn't pay attention to a single thing that the teacher went on and on about. All I could think about was the look on Chris's face. Like I had insulted him, and I didn't even know what I said. I know he couldn't possibly have killed someone, so what was it? My mind raced all day. I needed to talk to him, to apologize for whatever I did.

I couldn't lose him. In one way or another, I couldn't lose him.

The final bell rang and I quickly got up. Maybe I could find him in the hallway. I walked out of the classroom and saw a storm of people. I bit my lip as I looked from side to side. I hate that I was always trying to hunt him down and that he was always hiding. I wanted to cry. What did I do? I looked down at my feet as I felt Max walk up to me.

He was complaining again about hockey practice. How coach 'always made him doe extra reps'. Only because you're the best babe, is what I would normally have said if the thought of Chris being angry with me wasn't eating me alive.

I just looked up and nodded as we walked out of the school and into the parking lot. I still glanced up to see if I could spot Chris. Nothing. I gave up hope completely before hearing my name being called.

"Labraut!"

I turned around from the loudness of the voice that was calling my name. Max turned with me. I felt my heart beat quicken and panic run up my neck as I saw Nate walking up to us. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I couldn't speak my throat ran dry. I couldn't even move my feet they were planted into the ground as he walked up to us.

"What the fuck did you say to him?" Nate said walking up to me. Max stepped in from of me and pushed me behind him. My turned red as I stared at him. "Back up Doe" Max yelled back at him. I just looked at him with a horrified look on my face. Nate didn't look at Max, his eyes were planted on me. I swallowed.

"I don't know" I said quietly. He glared at me. "Look, I know you're some stuck up rich prick, who thinks she can do whatever she wants and say whatever she wants. Hate to break it to you princess. That's not the case" He said looking at me. A crowd had stopped around us briefly in the parking lot. I hate that this was drawing attention, but not as much as this made my stomach drop thinking about how I had hurt Chris.

Max shoved Nate back. "You don't get to talk to my girlfriend like that" Max said towering over Nate. Nate glared up at him before smiling silently. Please Nate. Please don't.

"I'd stay out of this one if I were you Hastings" He smiled looking at him and then me. I looked at him before closing my eyes and looking down. Nate pushed Max back before backing away.

Nate looked over at me and scoffed shaking his head and walking away. My heart was beating out of my chest. Nate could have blow my whole life up over this, and he didn't. He screamed at me, yes. But he didn't say anything. I guess Chris was right, he wasn't going to say anything.

I looked down at my feet. Max shook his head before turning over to me. "What was that about?" He asked looking down at me. I looked up over towards the direction of where Nate walked. Chris was now with him. Chris was shaking his head as Nate talked to him and then they both walked away.

"I have no idea" I whispered with a straight face.

tag list: @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @miastromboli @secret-sturniolo @sturnsclutter @sturniolodreamz @paper-crab @chrisolivia4l @mwah0mwah @recklesssturniolo @ejswift @kitaysworld @meg-sturniolo @nickmillersn1gf @fr3shl0ve @adrianaturnedpretty @oversturn @ghostgurlswrld @flowerxbunnie @ilytrinsworld @lustfulslxt @kiarastromboli @gemofthenight @blahbel668 @haunted-headset @sturnybabes @bethsturn @d3adlyclassrat @sturnybabes @mattsbitch @chrisluvbot @nickenthusiast @sturniolossmut @biimpanicking @iloveneilperry @chalametbich @dsmja @bernardsleftbootycheek @lovingsturniolo @aoxash @idrkk-123 @gingerbreadgodofhyperdeath @babagurlrichey @meme2003

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

310 notes · View notes

undercoveravenger · 7 months

Text

Intoxication

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “love potion mix-up with Billy Hargrove??”

A/N: Happy Spooky Month everyone! Here's the first post for the 2023 Spooky Month event - the next post will be dropping on Tuesday, October 10th. Hope you enjoy!

-----

Things had been strange ever since the arrival of Billy Hargrove and his little sister, Max.

Well, things in Hawkins had been weird for a lot longer than that, especially since you and your best friend Steve had befriended the group of misfit kids that called themselves “the Party”. They’d introduced the two of you to a secret side of Hawkins, where magic and curses and strange creatures ran amok. One of the kids, a girl named Eleven, was able to control objects with her mind and see beyond what was there. Another, Will, was psychic and could connect to other planes of existence. Dustin had a way of knowing how things fit together before anyone else could even guess. Steve’s coworker from Scoops Ahoy, Robin, was a witch. And now, Max and her brother. Werewolves, if what Lucas had told you was to be believed.

But you really couldn’t bring yourself to care much about Billy Hargrove. Not when so much of his life seemed to be spent antagonizing your best friend and trying to disrupt your comfortable station within the school’s hierarchy, seemingly dead set on turning your life upside down. Even at stupid parties like this one, you could hear people chanting Billy’s name while he faced off against Steve in a match of beer pong somewhere deeper in the house while you try to coax the sticker-covered flask away from Robin in the kitchen.

“Robs, babe,” you murmur, sidling up beside her and leaning back against the kitchen island, “I think Vickie likes you already. I know it’s scary to risk rejection, but a love potion isn’t the solution here.”

Robin nods slowly to herself, but her fingers don’t loosen around the metal. “But what if I can’t do it?”

You cock your head, smiling as she meets your eyes. “But isn’t asking her and knowing better than using that and not knowing how she really feels?”

It takes a moment of consideration, but your friend nods, setting the flask on the chipped marble countertop.

“It’s more of an enhancer than-” Robin starts and it’s clear that you’re about to get one of Robin’s infamous lectures on the science of magic when she is cut off by someone snatching the flask from its place in front of the two of you.

“Aww, so sweet of you to have my next drink ready for me,” Billy Hargrove leers at you, unscrewing the cap of the flask even as his usual infuriating smirk slips over his lips, pretty blue eyes fixed on yours in with that intense, holier-than-thou look he always had. Just because he was tall and handsome and had pretty eyes and hair that you kind of want to curl your fingers into and use to pull him closer to shut him up with a kiss, doesn’t mean he could do anything but irritate you by looking at you like he knew something he wasn’t willing to share.

Your heart lurches in your chest as he raises the flask, you know you have to at least try to stop him, especially since Robin seems so stunned you’re not entirely sure she could say anything at all.

“Probably don’t wanna drink that, Hargrove,” you say, reaching out just in time to catch his wrist. “Might end up with something worse than a hangover.”

Billy leans forward against the counter, using his other forearm to prop himself up, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks at your hand, holding tight around his wrist, before his eyes shift up to meet yours. “You threatenin’ me?”

A derisive snort escapes you, and you gesture subtly for Robin to make her escape. The last thing you’d want is for Billy to figure out she had anything to do with whatever happens if he’s stubborn enough to drink the potion and start targeting her once it wears off. She catches your hint and mumbles an excuse about finding Steve, disappearing quickly into the crowd.

“Of course not,” you say, releasing him and holding your hands up placatingly. Sure, you didn’t really want to spend longer than necessary around Billy Hargrove, but you wanted to spend time with a pissed off Billy Hargrove even less. “Just think it probably wouldn’t be something you would like, so I was just hoping to get it back,” you reached for it as you spoke, leaning across the island yourself to try to make a grab for the flask.

Billy snatches it away, taking a long gulp from the mouth of the flask, grinning at you all the while. He pulls a face, but doesn’t wince the way one might at the burn of alcohol, but you can see the moment the look in his eyes starts to shift and the realization hits you with all the weight of a semi-truck.

Billy Hargrove had just taken a love potion while looking right at you. Billy Hargrove was about to be convinced that you were the love of his life.

“Well,” you say, eyes flickering around to look anywhere but at Billy, “I should really be going.” You push back upright, swiftly turning to make your way out the back door of the house and starting off down the sidewalk in the direction of your own home before Billy could speak. You don’t make it far before you realize you’re being followed, the scuff of Billy’s worn leather boots giving him away as he trails behind you.

“You’re not as stealthy as you think you are,” you call back over your shoulder, pace remaining steady even as Billy speeds up to walk beside you.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to be,” he drawls, lips quirking up into something softer than his usual sneer. “Just walkin’.”

You study him for a long moment. “Didn’t you drive to the party? Surprised you’d leave your precious Camaro behind.”

“I’ve been drinking,” he shrugs, clearly trying to appear nonchalant. “Drunk driving’s dangerous, y’know.” He’s quiet for a minute and you find yourself almost wondering what he’s thinking.

“You don’t have to walk me home if that’s what this is,” you say, shoving your hands in your pockets and focusing your eyes on the way the lights on the stoplight a few blocks down flicker. “Steve already made me promise to call him when I get home.”

Billy huffs and he almost seems to be pouting when you glance over at him. “Don’t see why you’re with that loser in the first place. ‘s not good enough for you anyway.”

His words shock you enough that your steps falter and you have to turn to face him to see if he’s joking or not. Billy looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, steely blue eyes fixed firmly on you.

You have to fumble for words for a minute, the first thing you’re able to force out being a weak protest. “Steve’s not a loser!” Then the rest of his words catch up to you, “And he’s just my best friend, anyways.”

Billy seems to brighten at that, a more genuine smile crossing his lips than you’d ever seen before. “So,” he says, moving toward you slowly. The dull orange glow of the streetlights makes his hair shine almost copper and his eyes flash that distinct werewolf silver as he stalks toward you, gently herding you backward until your back is pressed to the brick wall of some long-closed business and Billy’s in front of you, arms caging you in on either side. On any other day, you might’ve felt claustrophobic- trapped and threatened by someone determined to fuck up your life. But today- with that love drunk look in Billy's eyes and that fond grin on his face, you were hesitantly pleased with your position. "If you're not with Harrington," Billy starts, leaning just a bit closer, until you can almost feel the breath of his words against your lips, "Does that mean you're available to go out with me on Friday?"

Part of you is tempted to say yes- to give in to this sweet, intoxicating side of Billy and let this go as far as he wants to take it- but the rest of you knows that what's happening is wrong.

You press a hand to Billy’s chest, pushing him back enough to give yourself some breathing room.

"I would, but this isn't real, Billy." You force yourself to say, "You drank a love potion tonight- this- you don't mean any of this."

Billy laughs then, full and unrestrained and the most genuine you've ever heard him be. "That shit doesn't work on werewolves. Metabolism’s too fast for it to really do much of anything," he says, grin unable to be helped even as his laughter subsides. "And even if it did, the stuff that your buddy whipped up just makes feelings that's already there easier to act on."

You blink, the pressure you'd been using to keep Billy at bay slacking as you think through what he'd said. If he hadn't been affected by Robin’s potion then-

Billy nudges closer, slipping his arms around your middle and tucking his face against the side of your neck. "The reason I was always so shitty to Harrington is that I was jealous," he murmurs softly, and you can feel the way he grins just a little wider as you start to relax against him, "I wanted to have people look at me like they look at him. I wanted to have you look at me like I was him."

You can’t help the way your hands come up to curl around him too, the way your fingers curl into his shirt, or the way you press just a bit closer to him. You can’t help the answering grin from carving its way across your cheeks at the thought of how pleased Billy seems to be at being the center of your attention, but you also can’t stop those few little questions from itching away inside your mind.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” The thought escapes you almost unbidden, before you can second-guess yourself, and you can’t help but keep talking. “Why didn’t you ask me out? Or- or just say hi? Something other than-” you gesture vaguely back in the direction of the party.

The tired sigh that escapes him makes it clear he knows you’re talking about his grudge against Steve and all the drama he’s stirred up for the two of you.

“It’s-” he has to pause and think over his words for a moment before he can continue. “My experience with love is… complicated. My mom died when I was little and my dad- he changed after that. Got mean. Angry.” He swallows hard, pulling away far enough to look at you, to really look at you. “He made it clear that he expected pretty specific behavior from me and anything that didn’t meet that wasn’t… good for me. Liking a guy- well, that was pretty far from what he’d expect.” His hands drop from your sides and he steps back a bit, arms crossing over his chest like he’s trying to distance himself from his thoughts. “So I was rude and sarcastic and I was mean to Harrington because at least that kept me in your peripheral.” He meets your eyes again, bright and open and honest in the orange glow of the streetlights, “But I don’t want to just be in your peripheral anymore.”

With all of what he'd said playing through your mind, finding the right words is proving difficult. "If we’re gonna try this, you've gotta leave Steve alone," you start finally, heart squeezing with more fondness than you're ready to admit as you watch the realization of what you mean starts to sink in and a million-watt smile pulls at Billy’s lips. "And Robin and the kids, too.”

A giddy laugh escapes Billy and he takes your hand in his, tugging you back down the street in the direction the two of you had been walking. “That’s a deal I’d make a thousand times over,” he says, grinning brightly as he walked with you, fingers intertwined with yours, hands swinging easily between the two of you.

Conversation flows easily as the two of you walk and you’re more at peace with Billy now than you could ever remember being with any of your exes, he insists on walking you home no matter how many times you tell him he doesn’t need to.

“Go out with me on Friday?” He says as the two of you stop at the foot of your driveway. “We could go for a picnic or to the drive-in if you want?”

When he’s looking at you like that, you can’t help but agree, quickly finding yourself more and more excited about your pending date.

Billy kisses your hand before he lets go, stepping back as you turn away from him and head for your house.

Billy smiles to himself as he watches you make your way up the driveway, keeping watch until you're safely inside, before turning and heading off in the direction of his own home. No, he knew he'd never have needed that love potion- not when it came to you. Billy Hargrove had been intoxicated by you since the first time he met you and he knows that isn't going to change any time soon.

554 notes · View notes

churipu · 1 month

Text

★ ─── KILLSWITCH LULLABY . . . ( 05 )

warnings. cursing, toji vs parenting, in a world where toji actually takes care of baby gumi, gumi is at least 8 months old, non! sorcerer au, infant doctor! reader, toji uses the zenin clan name, but baby gumi is a fushiguro (takes after his mother).

note. so sorry for the delayed update, i'm gonna be a bit busy since my midterms are next week but i'll try to fit in a chapter or two.

[ tags ] @dellalyra @thickemadame @mynahx3

-> series masterlist.

"'m glad to see my best barista back safe and sound — y/n didn't scare you with their driving, did they?" (cousin) had his arms crossed, raising his brows in acknowledgement as toji made his way behind the counter.

the eight month old infant was still in deep slumber after he had his first milk bottle of the day — head prodding forward a bit, but toji pushed the infant's head back gently. he didn't need megumi getting a dislocated neck today.

"no, i got home safe," toji replies back curtly, taking large strides towards the staff room to change into a more proper attire.

"need help with baby megs?" (cousin) asks, and toji nodded — like the usual, he unstrapped the carrier and handed the infant to the older male standing right behind him, "we'll be right out there, yeah?"

toji grunted out in acknowledgement as (cousin) shuts the door, and with a click coming from the lock, toji immediately tugged his shirt right over his head. heaving out a loud sigh, he shoved the black colored shirt inside his assigned locker, using his shoulder to shut the metal door close before putting on his uniform.

threading his fingers in between his hair, he walked towards the hanger and grabbed his apron, a string of curses escaped his throat as he struggled to tie the two ribbon-like strips. it was messily tied behind his back, and he walks out of the room — looking for his son.

and when his dull eyes laid on his son, who has now awaken from his deep slumber. with an enchanting smile gracing his lips, his tiny baby tooth peeking out from his fresh gums, and loud squeals as your cousin nuzzled his nose into megumi's tummy.

"there's your daddy," (cousin) coos, resulting in a few delighted kicks from megumi's feet, "he woke up, but he's a calm baby, isn't he? my son would have at least cried for the next half an hour."

hearing his statement, toji was a bit thankful that his son was born as a calm baby — hearing parents' talk about how their baby throws temper tantrums for the slightest things, which he can't really blame because they're babies— makes him feel a little relieved.

"thanks," toji slipped an arm around megumi's little body, pulling the infant close to his chest, ready to start the day.

you never really liked fridays.

something about friday just spells out "b-a-d l-u-c-k" to you. nothing ever goes well —most of the time— and today seemed to be one of those 'most of the time'. missing out on the first two hours of work, and a session with a client — all because of a burst tire on the way.

it was a good thing that the majority of your clients were people coursing with patience throughout their veins, "yes, an hour from now works completely well for me, ma'am! i am so sorry for the sudden rescheduling," you threw your head back onto the headrest of your office chair.

"yes . . . thank you so much, i will see you in an hour. again, i am so sorry for the sudden rescheduling," your voice was laced with guilt, especially with the risk of choosing in between the life and death of parents' blood and flesh.

it's terrifying.

the call line ended with a loud beep and you laid your phone down screen first. flicking your wrist to eye the time. sixty minutes. hopping off your chair — you grabbed the brown coat hanging on your chair's rest, putting it on as you walk out of your office.

"be back in a few, i need coffee," you mutter out towards the woman behind the front desk, her dull glasses lightly slipping down the bridge of her nose, "d'you want any? macchiato maybe? or snacks?"

she shook her head with a warm smile, "bad day?"

bad day was an understatement — it has been a shit day. and it wasn't even noon yet, "yeah, bad day," you chuckle out, "i have an appointment reschedule an hour from now, for the last session."

"noted. have a safe trip for coffee," she waves her hand, a pen stuck in between her index finger and middle finger.

sauntering out of the building, you unlocked your car and went inside. sighing for a bit as you stared out front for a bit before turning the engine on — it was a short drive to (cousin)'s cafe, but the least thing was nothing else happened besides that burst tire.

swiftly parking by the side of the road, you got out of the car, slamming the door shut. turning your heels, you were whiplashed from the side; thankfully, not by a car. it was a teenager, on a skateboard — which was practically almost the same thing. and it hurts like a little bitch.

"what the hell," you seethe out to nobody in particular as the teenager scurried to stand up, eyeing you nervously, "just . . . don't worry about it, go on."

and there he goes, frantically holding onto his skateboard as he runs away. not before bowing once to you, at least it wasn't a bike, "who the fuck skates on the sidewalk . . ?"

the bell chime greets your appearance, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee caressed your nostrils, "ah, my favorite person, shit friday, i see?" (cousin) leaned his elbows on top of the counter, smiling sickly sweet.

"don't even start with me, just get me a large coffee to go. no sugar, just black." you mutter out, sliding your card towards him.

"how'd it feel?" (cousin) questions, pushing away the card from his sight, "it's on me, y/n. don't want you feeling any more shitty than you already are."

"what did what feel like?" you retort back, sliding the card back into your wallet — raising a brow in confusion.

the male chuckled, "to be whiplashed by a skater. d'you think i wouldn't see that? papa megs was laughing at you, y'know?" he ripped the bill from the machine, sticking the paper on top of the order list, "'m surprised you didn't flip out at the boy."

"i wasn't laughing," toji chimes in dully.

megumi pointed his small fist at you, kicking his feet as if he was saying hello to a familiar face, "hi baby gumi," you waved at the infant slightly with a forced smile.

"large coffee, black. no sugar," toji mutters, almost scoffing when he parrots the order to you — sliding the paper cup over to you, "who drinks coffee black?"

"i don't — i just feel like having my coffee black today, need a little kick y'know?" you grab the coffee, taking a sip out of it before whisking out a loud seethe at the bitterness spreading throughout your tongue, maybe the decision to order a black coffee made your bad day even worst, "alright, that's got a huge kick to it."

(cousin) smirked, "need sugar? creamer? anything papa megs can get you, hm?"

"sugar. milk. creamer. anything to drown the bitterness out, please." you state out in embarrassment, laying your head down onto the counter surface, "just make it sweeter for me."

this time, (cousin) took the cup from you to follow up on your order, "be back in a second, go have a chat with toji for a bit, yeah?" weakly nodding your head, forehead still stuck onto the surface for a few more minutes before you pulled yourself back up.

"hi," you waved.

" . . . hey."

you eyed him, "slept well?" he nodded in response, "do you get off the same time today?" he nodded again mutely, "can i drive you home again?" he shook his head at the question, which was expected.

chuckling, this time you were the one who nodded at his little shake, "right — how about tomorrow?"

toji still shook his head, "you can do sunday."

raising a brow, you gave him a lop-sided grin, "this place closes on sundays, are you joking — or is this serious, because i honestly have no idea what's real and not today." you tell him hastily.

"i'm kidding," he replies back, wiping a mug with a clean cloth, "you don't have to drive me home, every single time. i can fight."

"with baby megs around? no," you retort back. which made a clear point to toji, "our house is the same direction anyways — 'ts really fine, right, baby gumi?"

megumi claps his chubby little hands against each other, letting out a loud squeal at your question, "see? he agrees."

toji almost rolled his eyes, "he doesn't understand you — we can take the bus, 'ts fine. really," he mumbles out again, arranging the few mugs he had been wiping neatly onto the holders. and at the same time, (cousin) walked back into the scene, sliding your cup of coffee back to you.

"bus isn't safe at night. can't risk you or baby megs getting hurt," (cousin) replies, making himself a guest in the conversation, "it's either, i take you home today and every other day. or y/n does it," the male shrugs his shoulder.

toji was awkwardly shifting on his spot, fiddling with megumi's leg like he always does.

"my wife got robbed on the last bus on her way home from work, don't want the same thing happening to you both, yeah? i don't want to get a call from the hospital or the police." you were silent, but nodding in agreement. toji internally cursed, he really did want to take the offer — but at the same time, he'd feel like a pressure of burden to you and (cousin).

in all honesty, the ride home you gave him the other night was the best car ride he had gotten in . . . years. frankly speaking, if this was him a couple of years ago, he'd definitely taken the offer without thinking it through.

"i can take him home, we go the same direction. your house's the other way around," you volunteered with a small smile.

toji was about to shake his head, but (cousin) deliberately stopped him by swinging an arm around toji's shoulder, tugging the man close, "i trust him with you, if either three of you get hurt — i'll beat you both up myself, yes?"

"yes, sir!" you nod.

toji grunted, "i don't have a say in this?"

"no, i want my nephew safe and sound," (cousin) replies back sheepishly, planting his fingertips on top of megumi's head, "you're practically my brother now, i want you safe and sound like i want megumi safe and sound."

toji didn't reply to your cousin, but he felt . . . somehow thankful (and loved), but of course, he wouldn't want to admit that — so he nodded his head, "right. thanks."

"right! so you're coming home with me today," you grinned.

maybe fridays won't be so bad now.

#KILLSWITCH LULLABY.#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji series #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #zenin toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro series

248 notes · View notes

koocycle · 1 year

Text

over wine | jjk | teaser part one

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

pairing. husband! jungkook x ex-model! fem reader

teaser word count. 2k

estimated word count. 35k+

au + genre. rich couple! au, established relationship! au, married couple! au, semi sugar daddy! au, suburban couple! au, angst, fluff and smut.

teaser warnings. mild cursing, suggestive and mature themes

send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

series masterlist

released on thursday, july 6th 2023.

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

You figure he is, because anywhere the well-dressed man goes, curious eyes follow. Though you find it hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that makes the man so lovable in the eyes of your friends and neighbors. Your husband owns a great sense of fashion, in his defense. If we’re talking 10-minute trips to the only supermarket available in town, where the man makes sure his hair is slicked back and the first few buttons of his blouse are undone, then yes, Jungkook might have hit the bull's eye. It’s noticeable on people’s faces no matter where his feet carry him. Take the red-haired divorcée across the street for example, whose skirts get shorter each time she comes out to get her mail. Or take the head of the community garden every Saturday morning, who stoops a little lower each time she plucks another stock of radishes from her dirty, little yard.

Long story short, the man who got voted to grow the ‘’reddest tomatoes the neighborhood has ever seen’‘, is considered one of the hottest men on the block. Not like it ends there when he carries his good attitude with him no matter the day. As a beloved one who drives off to the office no matter the rush he’s in, Jungkook makes sure to slow the speed down and send a sweet wave to the elderly couple at the end of the street. After business hours, he would find lost mail in his letterbox, wrong packages at his porch, and missing kittens hidden in the trimmed bushes of his backyard. Yes, great guess; Jungkook in formal attire makes sure they find their way back to the rightful owner before it turns dark out. A smile on his face that’s sweeter than the candied apples he gifted Kim Namjoon’s 7-year-old the other day.

Yes, Jeon Jungkook from number 09 is the neighborhood’s heartthrob.

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

‘‘Attitude?’’ You end up asking, glossed lips pursed together.

“I told you, I want a second opinion.”

“Are you even listening?” He doesn’t notice the corners of his lips slipping up until you tug him out of his daze. The apples of his cheeks show as quick as they die down.

“Yeah,” Jungkook groans and sits up straight. “I hear you. You’re just not making any sense, babe.”

Jungkook often finds several ways to make you roll your eyes and tighten your jaw, though he rarely makes you fume with steam blowing out of your ears.

You huff quietly, clearly holding back. “How am I not making sense? You’re not listening to a word I say.”

“I listen. You just have a hard time understanding me.”

full version, date of release july 6th 2023.

taglist: @codeinebelle @cxcotin @hrts4kook

please send me an ask to be added to the list.

#jungkook #jungkook teaser #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jjk #koocycle

1K notes · View notes

asdfghjklmals · 9 months

Text

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 3.8k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. lovesick!gojo, lovesick!oc. hardcore mutual pining.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend and satoru are assigned an overnight mission together, but what happens when there's only one bed? AUTHOR'S NOTE: this fic takes place one week after love at first fight, so be sure to read it to know what happened last week 😊 and yes, satoru is the enemy in this title. the one tricky thing about writing student!satoru and oc gojo girlfriend is doing the research of what was used back in 2006-2007. like earphones and an mp3 player?! REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“hey (y/n)! yaga-sensei is looking for you.” suguru greeted you as he passed by you in the hallway of tokyo jujutsu high. you had just got out of the community showers after a very tiring close combat training session with mei mei.

you tossed your towel behind your shoulder, “he is? why?”

it's never a good thing when yaga-sensei is looking for anyone—that meant that you were in trouble or you had a mission. you haven't been assigned any missions yet, and you already got in trouble the other day for hemming your uniform skirt too short.

“he said to meet him in the classroom,” suguru said with an amusing smile, “i think you’re going to go on your first mission.”

“what?! really?!” you were so excited. you had been at jujutsu high for over a month now. yaga-sensei didn’t want to send you on any missions until you brushed up on your close combat. he knew that you could defend and attack in long ranges due to your cursed technique, but he didn’t want you to risk getting injured because you couldn’t fight at a close range yet—so you worked extra hard to get better at close combat.

“yup! i think you’ll have a great first mission.” suguru confidently said knowing damn well that your first mission would be with the one and only—satoru gojo.

you entered the first years' classroom, sliding the door shut behind you.

"hi (y/n), glad you could make it." yaga-sensei started, "i'm sending you on your first mission tomorrow."

"okay, that's great, but what's he doing here?" you pointed at the white haired sorcerer.

yaga-sensei cleared his throat, "he'll be your partner for your upcoming mission. satoru has kindly offered to join."

"hey." satoru waved, greeting you with a smug smile.

you started to feel your cheeks burn in mortification, "can i go with suguru instead?"

satoru was offended and wanted to know why you didn't want to go on a mission with him. he wanted to spend time with you, so how could you ask for suguru instead? the girl he was chasing wanted his bestfriend out of all people? he folded his arms in dissatisfaction, "suguru is busy. what's wrong wi—"

your sensei saved you by interrupting, "i'll brief the you two tomorrow before you leave on your mission. make sure to be ready by 5pm."

later that night: (y/n)'s dorm room

you and shoko were painting your nails in your dorm room as you updated her on what had happened earlier today.

"sensei's sending you on your very first mission with gojo?" shoko giggled, painting dark green nail polish on her fingernails.

you frowned, "i mean... it's not a bad thing, since satoru's really strong and all. but out of all people—why does it have to be him?"

"probably because there is a whopping total of 6 students here at jujutsu high. that gives you a high probability of going on a mission with gojo at least once in your life."

"we haven't really talked since last week." you sighed.

"you two haven't actually had any alone time since that day he took you shopping for your birthday." shoko realized, "—and then the idiot got in trouble for sneaking out of your dorm room that morning..."

"yeah, let's not talk about that," you blushed at the memory, overflowing your nails with baby blue nail polish on accident. (read 'love at first fight' here)

shoko reassured you, "you'll be fine! it's gojo after all—the mission should be a piece of cake and you'll be back in no time."

the next day: mission briefing

"the city of chiba has requested that we exorcise any curses that are in the area of a new department store that they are in the process of building." yaga-sensei started, "they requested one sorcerer grade 1 or higher as it's a time crunch for them and they’re willing to pay the premium. this is easily a grade 3 or 4 mission, so i figured this would be a great first time mission for you to shadow, (y/n)."

"and you get the best person to shadow." satoru bragged knowing it was him you were shadowing.

you rolled your eyes at him, adverting your attention back to your sensei, "i'm guessing this a one-day mission and we leave tomorrow?"

yaga-sensei cleared his throat, "actually, it's overnight. jujutsu high has a reservation at the daiwa roynet hotel across the street from the department store lot. you two will be leaving tonight, spending the night in chiba to get an early start on your mission and then coming back in the evening. i expect a full report the morning after you come back."

overnight?

you and satoru had to share a hotel room overnight?

you peered over at satoru. he was tipped back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs, his arms folded behind his head. he looked very content with this mission. your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and roll out the door.

satoru turned to look at you, "ready to go, (y/n)? you got your big girl pants on for your first mission?"

you shot an ice shard at him, hitting his infinity as he hehehe'd in his seat. yaga-sensei massaged his temples watching his two special grade students go at it.

‘are these two ever going to finally admit they like each other?’ the sensei asked himself.

"are we leaving or not?" you barked at satoru, holding out your arm for him to link his through so you could teleport with him.

satoru winked at his sensei and gave him two finger guns before taking your arm to loop over his, "see you later, sensei."

satoru clasped his hands and just like that—you were in shibuya station.

*****************************

"you have to work on your long distance transportation so we don't have to take the subway, satoru." you bullied your partner.

"i told you last week that i was working on it." satoru rolled his pretty blue eyes at you. "—i'm able to teleport further and further now."

"so how long until we get to chiba?" you asked satoru.

"it's about an hour by subway."

you and satoru were sitting side by side in the subway car. you could hear the rubber wheels rolling against the tracks, the voices of people talking, and the sounds from a teenager's video game sitting across from you. as you leaned over to dig in your bag for your earphones, your hand accidentally brushed satoru's.

you murmured an apology, "sorry..."

satoru raised his eyebrow, leaning into you and whispering in your ear. "if you want to hold my hand, all you have to do is ask."

"i don't want to hold your hand, satoru." you lied.

you looked over at satoru's hand that rested on his left thigh. his fingers were slender, nails and cuticles trimmed neatly. they looked soft. you wished that you had the courage to hold his hand.

he grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. he loved your feistiness. he could never get you to flirt back with him to save his life, but he lived for your retorts.

you went back to untangling your earphones so that you could listen to your mp3 player. after a moment, you turned to him, holding out the other half of your earphones, "wanna listen?"

"before i take this, what kind of music do you listen to?" satoru jabbed at you, "you seem like you'd only listen to pretty boy idols."

you rolled your eyes at him, "i actually have a wide taste in music. right now i'm listening to american 80's. they're my dad's favorite songs."

you smiled at the memory of touya handing you a cd from your father’s large collection of music. he told you that your father was a huge 80's fan before his passing. you spent a majority of your childhood listening to your father’s collection growing up.

satoru took the earphone from you and stuck it in his ear. his stared off into the corner of the subway car.

"so what's this song called?" he asked you, genuinely curious. he wanted to get to know you more, so this was his way of trying.

"it's called 'nothing's gonna change my love for you' by george benson." you beamed, "the love songs were so great in the 80's."

"it's nice."

"you haven't even listened to the whole song yet." you giggled, "do you even know what it's about?"

satoru laughed, "obviously nothing getting in the way of this guy's love for his girl."

"ooh! let me show you another one of my favorites." you said excitedly, "it's called 'nothing compares 2 u' by prince! he wrote it in the 80's but sinead o'connor released it in the 90's..." you continued to ramble.

satoru heart melted at the way your face lit up while you showed him some of your favorite old school songs. he had no idea what the hell you were talking about, but your bright and animated smile drew him in. he couldn't not listen to you talk about your favorite things in the world. he wanted to know every little thing about you. he wanted to always be by your side so that you could tell him about anything that made you happy.

later that night: checking into the hotel

after the hour long subway ride, you and satoru walked to the daiwa roynet hotel so you could check-in for the night.

satoru held your backpack for you as you walked up to the front desk. the front desk employee greeted you. "hi! welcome to the daiwa roynet hotel. how can i help you?"

"hi! we have a reservation under (y/n) (l/n) or satoru gojo. jujutsu high school should've made the reservation."

the employee smiled and nodded as they looked up the reservation. they started to furrow their eyebrows. it looked like something was wrong.

"i'm sorry, miss. we tried to contact you about your hotel room reservation, but we couldn't reach anyone."

"what's wrong with the reservation?" you asked, confused.

"it was originally booked for two queen beds, but we only have rooms with one standard queen bed at the moment."

"that can't be right..." you panicked, "what phone number did you call?"

you looked at your phone to see if you got a missed call. no missed calls were in your log.

“satoru, did you get a phone call by any chance?" you called out to him. satoru walked up to the front desk to join you. he looked at his phone as well, seeing no missed calls either.

"we called this number," the hotel employee recited a number that wasn't yours or satoru's.

"it's yaga-sensei's phone number." satoru said as he recognized the number.

the hotel employee apologized, "i'm sorry. will one bed do? we can refund you the cost of the two beds. or we can give you two separate rooms."

"ummm—" you bit your lip in hesitation. you weren't sure what to say. even though you and satoru shared your bed last week, would it be okay for you two to do this again? should you get an separate room instead and ask for reimbursement from jujutsu high later?

"that's fine. we'll just take the single bed. no need to make a huge fuss out of it." satoru replied back to the hotel employee with a wink. the employee handed him the room key and bowed to the both of you, appreciating your understanding.

as satoru led the way to the hotel room, your face started to fill with worry. were you really supposed to share a bed with satoru tonight? you were already so embarrassed about what happened last week in your dorm room. how could this happen?

satoru stopped in front of the room, unlocking the door with the room key and opening the door to enter. there was the dreaded single queen sized bed, an arm chair in the corner, and a tv sitting on top of the large dresser. not only did you have to share a bed with satoru, you had to share a bathroom too?

'could this mission get any worse?' you thought to yourself.

"you can take the bed. i'll sleep in the arm chair." satoru said nonchalantly.

"are you sure? i can sleep in the chair. i'm smaller than you." you said. by a whole foot, to be exact.

satoru feigned chivalry, "my grams would kill me if i did such an un-gentlemanly thing."

"i'll have to thank your grandma one day." you said with a giggle. "you take the shower first then."

"don't gotta tell me twice." satoru sang. he loved hot showers. he would always fight for who would get to shower first back at the dorms. satoru set down both of your backpacks and dug for his clothes and toiletries.

*****************************

you sat in the arm chair that satoru was going to be sleeping on. it was uncomfortable and barely had any cushion. was he really going to sleep on this? you felt guiltier and guiltier the more you sat in this chair. you ordered extra pillows and blankets from room service in hopes that it would help provide some comfort for him tonight.

you spent time reading over the mission details, twirling your long black hair between your fingers. you heard the bathroom door open, steam flowing out of the bathroom. satoru stepped out, tousling his damp hair. he was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt.

"your turn." he motioned for you to hit the shower.

you teased him, "i hope you didn't take all the hot water."

"i saved some for you, princess." he shot back with a grin.

you quickly grabbed your clothes and toiletries, closing the door behind you. back at the school, the community showers were separated by women and men. sitting outside this bathroom door was satoru gojo, and that made your heart race.

while you showered, you wondered what satoru was thinking about right now. you thought about the subway ride and how he listened to your father’s favorite songs with you. you thought about how you actually wanted to hold his hand, even though you lied and told him no. and lastly, you thought about your feelings for satoru... they were growing day by day. did he feel the same way about you?

after your shower, you blew dry your hair (it always took a long time since it was so long), did your skincare routine, and brushed your teeth. you changed into a baggy long sleeve shirt and pajama shorts. you flipped off the bathroom light, finding satoru curled up in the arm chair with the extra pillows and blankets you ordered for him. he was trying his best to sleep in the unbearably cramped chair that was clearly not made for men over six feet tall.

"goodnight, satoru." you said, climbing into the bed. you frowned while looking at him. your heart shattered at the poor sight.

"night, (y/n)." he replied, eyes closed, brows furrowed. he was clearly miserable.

*****************************

you tossed and turned for the last hour. you couldn't sleep. you watched satoru sleep in the arm chair—or tried to sleep in the arm chair. he had adjusted his freakishly tall body so that he could lay upright. he said he wanted to be a gentleman and let you sleep on the bed, but you still felt guilt-ridden.

“satoru.” you whispered his name. no answer came from him. you tried calling his name again, a little louder this time, “satoru gojo.”

he opened one eye, squinting at you with his arms folded against his chest. “what do you want, (y/n)? i'm trying to sleep.” he asked you, voice groggy and laced with a hint of annoyance.

kissing the back of your teeth, you got out of the bed and stomped over to him, grabbing his hand and pulling him off the chair towards you and the damn hotel bed. satoru raised his eyebrows.

“i like women who take the lead.” he joked while rubbing the sleepiness away from his face.

you shot him a glare, “shut up—i just feel bad that you’re sleeping on the chair when this bed can clearly fit two people…” you trailed off awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with him. you felt your cheeks turning cherry red, thankful that it was dark so that satoru couldn’t see your blushing face.

satoru smiled at you, his hand scratching the back of his undercut. you were still holding his hand—and honestly? he hoped that you wouldn't let go.

“just keep your hands to yourself this time.” you muttered as you quickly let go of his hand, still embarrassed from the events of last week. deep down, you secretly hoped he wouldn't listen to you.

he gave you his signature shit eating grin and saluted you, “yes ma’am.”

the next morning

your alarm rang at 7am. you and satoru had to be at the department store lot by 9am. 2 hours would give you enough time to get ready and grab breakfast downstairs.

you yawned as you turned into a bare, broad chest. your head resting on a strong right bicep. your eyes widened, your hand came up to cover your mouth. '

damn it, not again!', you cursed yourself.

"glad we were able to do this again." satoru greeted you in reference from his statement last week, his eyes still closed. he felt you wake up when you turned into his chest just moments ago.

"ugh, satoru gojo! what did i say about keeping your hands to yourself?!" you hissed at him.

"i kept my hands to myself. you're the one who cuddled up right next to me and then attempted to use my arm as a pillow. as a gentleman, i couldn’t not let you use my arm as a pillow." he sat up, dramatically rotating his arm from having its' circulation cut off. "ugh, i have dead arm now from your big head."

"hey, i don't have a big head!" you threw your pillow at him, only for it to hit his infinity.

satoru's frosty white bedhead caught your attention. it was so unfair how statuesque he looked in the mornings. you felt like you looked like a troll doll compared to him.

"do you always have to take off your shirt in the middle of the night? or do you only do this when you get a chance to sleep next to me?" you questioned him with a strong but sleepy glare from your emerald green eyes.

satoru slyly admitted, "it gets hot at night. especially when you're cuddling."

"i never asked you to cuddle me, so you didn't have to take off your shirt." you retorted.

"well, i don’t think i can ever sleep alone anymore. having a personal heater is nice, especially during the cold winter months.” satoru sarcastically teased. sleeping next to you was something he could definitely get used to, even if it wasn't cold.

you folded your arms and looked away from him, “well, you’re going to have to get used to sleeping alone again when we get back to jujutsu high. you’re not my boyfriend so you can't just sleep next to me whenever you want.”

satoru leaned in towards you, grabbing your arm. he asked in a lower tone, sending shivers down your spine, “can i be your boyfriend then?”

“no.” you quickly answered before flicking his forehead.

satoru winced and palmed his forehead, chuckling as he watched you get out of bed to dash to the bathroom in embarrassment.

EXTRA:

you were in your dorm room writing your post-mission report for yaga-sensei that was due in the morning, your pencil scribbling and scrabbling as you watched the snow fall outside your window. you were unknowingly tracing hearts on your paper.

you thought about how satoru always made you feel so shy ever since you came to jujutsu high. as a matter of fact, your heart never failed to race around him. you couldn’t tell if he liked you or not—or if he just flirted with every girl like that. you could feel your heart opening up to the white haired sorcerer with each passing moment you spent with him. this last mission didn't help either as you spent a close proximity with him at all times.

love. something you never thought you’d find here at jujutsu high, especially with satoru gojo. was love really possible between you and him? no way. satoru was... well—he was the satoru gojo. why would he want to be with someone like you? a sorcerer who couldn't even control her own powers, someone who could barely fight in close combat, someone so weak... you beat yourself up over your flaws, not knowing that somebody else might love you despite them.

you heard four knocks on your door. it was well past curfew, who would be knocking at your door this late? maybe shoko needed to borrow your pre-calculus notes? knowing her, she was usually up late studying.

you got up from your desk and tightened your robe. you opened your dorm room door to find satoru gojo standing in front of you—speak of the handsome devil.

“w-what are you doing here? it's past c-curfew.” you stammered, feeling a flush fill your cheeks. you didn't want satoru to know you were just thinking of him. he would never let you live it down.

he gave you a sheepish look, scratching the back of his head like he always did when he was nervous. “can i spend the night?”

you stared at him for a moment. was satoru gojo really asking to spend another night with you? he gave you his signature grin in hopes that you’d let him into your room—and maybe into your heart one day.

you rolled your pretty green eyes and sighed, “fine... only because it's cold tonight.”

you opened the door for him to enter your room. satoru snuck by you and quickly jumped onto your very comfortable king sized bed, getting under the covers before you changed your mind and kicked him out.

“—and keep your hands to yourself.” you reminded him again as you walked towards him.

“no promises, sweetheart.” he cheekily retorted as he laced his fingers with yours to pull you into your own bed. you plopped down next to him.

“want an arm pillow?” he asked softly. looking over to see your pretty face that he couldn’t stop thinking about. he’d gladly wake up with dead arm in the morning if that’s what it took to sleep next to you every night.

you shyly replied, “yes, please.”

satoru gave you his right arm as you snuggled up next to him, laying your head on his bicep. he curled his arm against your back and pressed you against his side. you could hear his heart beating rapidly. was it possible that he could hear yours too?

“(y/n)?” he called out your name, interrupting your sweet thoughts.

“yes, satoru?”

“do you like suguru more than me?”

you groaned, “god—satoru, go to sleep.”

he squeezed you tightly in hopes of hearing what he wanted you to say, “answer the question.”

“yes, i totally like suguru more than you.” you lied as you sighed in disbelief, “satoru, you’re literally sleeping right next to me for a third time since we met over a month ago. make it make sense, please.”

you could sense that satoru had his signature shit eating grin on his face. “alright, (y/n). just making sure.”

and in that moment, you thought that maybe love was possible with satoru gojo.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

698 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

icecycle

buddy i moved

morganspeach

fuckyeahpipesofpan

Pipes of Pan

critgemhero

I just can't

goldanthem

GOLD ANTHEM