I Do Bad Things with You - Part 49
It's here!!! The final part of this massive fic. đ I can't believe we're finally at the end. I'm still in shock that I get to close the door on this fic that has taken up the last three years of my life. I have so many emotions running through me right now. đ„ș
The epilogue will be posted during @elriel-month in addition to a little surprise I'm so excited to share with you. Stay tuned!! đđđ
My fanfic account:Â @tswaney17ficsâââ
My ao3 account:Â tswaney17
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. đ
Catch up here.
Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassianâs nickname, Cash. đ
Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW
This part also features descriptions of birth and complications from it.
Word Count: 7,225
Elain had spent a good portion of the late morning getting ready for the baby shower scheduled for noon. At just over eight months pregnant, they were cutting close to the wire of the twinsâ arrival.
She was beyond exhausted. Growing the babies was work enough, but she ached everywhere at this point. Her boobs, her hips, her ankles. Her backâŠthat hurt the worst. She looked like she swallowed two extra large watermelons. Elain hadnât seen her feet in two and half months and she was praying that her toenails looked well enough for sandals today.
On top of her aching body, she also slept like shit the night before, having woken up in the wee hours with Braxton Hicks contractions that seemed to never want to go away. They were getting obnoxious at this point.
Oh! And her boobs had already started leaking. Aside from the contractions, Elain also woke up to a soaked sleep shirt and an attitude that poor Azriel was desperately trying to keep calm. She felt bad that her irritation got directed at him, but he took her mood swings in stride, giving her the space when she needed it, and focusing on taking care of Kaden and getting him ready for the party.
Her husband knocked lightly before entering their bedroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it when he saw her standing there in an ugly pair of panties and a strapless braâwhich she had no idea how it was going to hold up her tits, but here they were. âHello, my love. How are you doing?â he asked, striding further into their room. He was already dressed in black slacks and a white button-down rolled up to his elbows. It was one of her favorite looks on him. Casual but classy and sexy as hell.
âIâm all right. Better than this morning,â which was true. In the time she took to get ready, she felt her irritation slowly dissipate. âIâm sorry for snapping at you.â
He gifted her a soft smile he reserved only for her and their children. âEl, youâre carrying two babies. Youâre allowed to let out your frustrations. Iâm here to spar if you need it, you know that.â
She knew he meant spar as in letting her yell and shout and hiss words until she felt better while he just took it. Gods, he really was the perfect husband. Elain held out her coco butter lotion towards him. âDo you mind rubbing this on me and helping me dress?â
Azriel took the bottle from her outstretched hands, dropping a sweet kiss on her plump lips before squirting some into his scarred palms and gently rubbing it all over her swollen stomach. He knelt before her, dutifully getting every inch of her covered. âYou are so beautiful, Elain,â he murmured, kissing her at the fullest part of her belly.
She snorted. âI am a beached whale who ate too much.â
âYou are a gorgeous woman carrying life inside of her womb. That will always be beautiful, sweetheart.â
How he always knew what to say was beyond her, but she tugged him up off the ground to kiss him thoroughly. It shouldâve annoyed her with how just a few sweeps of Azrielâs tongue had every concern and irritation simply melt away. He knew when to play that card and fuck did he play it well.
But even his tongue couldnât stop the hiss of pain as another contraction wracked her body.
He immediately pulled back at the sound, eyes scanning her face. âAre you all right?â he asked, concern etched into the tone.
She breathed through the wave that tightened in her abdomen. âBraxton Hicks contractions,â she said as an explanation.
 His brows shot into his hairline. âDo we need to go to the hospital?â
Elain reached up to cup his cheek in her palm, her thumb swiping over the stubble there. âNo, itâs a normal thing this late in the pregnancy. Iâve had a few this morning starting before dawn. Itâs why I was grouchy.â
Understanding lit his face and he carefully ran his hand down her stomach again. âWhy didnât you wake me this morning?â
She huffed a laugh. âBecause I knew youâd go into full-birthing-dad-mode and neither one of us wouldâve slept any longer.â
Azriel shot her an unamused glare. âYou will be thanking me for that birthing-dad mode when youâre in labor and I have everything packed up within minutes.â
This time Elain laughed loud and joyfully. âYes, youâre probably right.â She nodded to the dress on the bed. âHelp me slip that on?â
He grabbed the fabric, bunching it in his large fists, and pulled it over her head. It was an off-the-shoulder, loose, pale pink cotton dress, decorated with roses. It looked vintage, gathering just under her bust, with oversized puffy sleeves that sat off her shoulders, over her biceps. Ruffles accentuated the bottom hem, emphasizing the vintage style. It was the perfect spring dress. When Elain first saw it at the store, she knew she had to buy it for the shower.
Azriel tugged her loose curls from the back of the dress, letting them brush against her spine. He placed a kiss on her bare shoulder before grabbing the rose-pendant necklace he bought to go with the dress and draping it around her delicate neck. âPerfect,â he murmured onto her skin, his smile pressing against her neck.
Elain sighed softly, reaching up to thread her fingers through his dark hair. âHow am I still horny for you?â
He nipped at her throat, a rumble shaking his chest. âBecause you know I can deliver what you need without even blinking.â
This time she laughed, letting his hands run across her body in possessive little touches.
Azriel brazenly cupped her sex through the dress, growling as she let out a mewling sound and began to writhe against those skilled fingers, searching for the friction she desperately craved. âWould you like to fuck my hand, love?â he murmured, mouth grazing her jaw.
Elain fell slack against him, letting his strength hold her up. âAz,â she breathed, eyes fluttering shut as he began to rub her in earnest. âPlease.â
He nipped the curve of her ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth. âYou beg so prettily, El.â Bunching up the dress in a fist, Azriel slid her panties aside, swiping his fingers over her soaked pussy. âFuck, baby. Youâre so wet for me. Always desperate for my touch.â
She gripped him, nails digging into his exposed forearms. âI needâI need,â she panted out, wiggling in his hold. âPlease, Az.â
Giving her exactly what she wantedâneededâAzriel sunk his middle finger into her aching cunt, pumping once before adding a second digit. âSuch a good girl,â he whispered, thrusting in and out of her. The heel of his palm grazed her clit sending bolts of pleasure up her spine.
Elain bit her lip, stifling the moan that threatened to burst from her. His fingers scraped along that special spot inside of her, building her up and up and up until she teetered on the edge of bliss.
Barely conscious of her surroundings, Elain caught the sound of the door handle jiggling, followed by a âMomma!â
Azriel clapped a hand over her mouth as he continued his machinations. âMommaâs getting dressed, Kaden. Weâll be out in a minute,â he called out, pressing his palm firmly on her clit and sending her spiraling into her orgasm.
Too far gone to care, she tumbled into sweet oblivion, coming hard on his fingers. Elain moaned, only quieted by the muffling against her husbandâs scarred hand.
He worked her through her release, slowing his movements when she started to come down from her high. Az peppered her skin with sweet kisses, removing his fingers from her pussy and readjusting her panties back into place before letting the dress fall back down. âBetter, my love?â
âIâm gonna have to change my underwear, but yes.â She twisted in his arms, catching him sucking his fingers clean. Elain brought his mouth down to hers, tongue licking the drop of her release dotting his bottom lip. âThank you, husband.â
He smiled into their kiss, deepening it once more. âIâll go check on Kaden while you finish up. Weâll head out when youâre done.â
Twenty minutes later, they were in the car on their way to Rhys and Feyreâs place. It was a gorgeous day full of sunshine, the air warm with the oncoming of summer. It was as if even the Mother wanted to grace her presence on that day with her radiance. They really couldnât have asked for a more beautiful day for a baby shower.
âMomma?â Kaden called from the back seat. âWhere are we going?â
His speech had improved so much since they first brought him home that the therapist they hired had told them after the end of the school year, that he likely wouldnât need to continue seeing a specialist to catch him up. He was reading and writing the way a five-year-old should be and was on track to pass kindergarten with flying colors.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. âRemember how we talked about going to Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhysâs for the baby shower today.â
He seemed to think about that. âWhatâs a baby shower?â
Her lips quirked up at his curious mind. Thankfully, he hadnât asked about where babies came from again. âItâs a party to celebrate the upcoming arrival of your brother and sister.â Her hand came to rest on her belly instinctively.
His face scrunched up. âWill I have to take a bath again?â
Azriel let out a snort, glancing at her. âItâs a fair question.â
She laughed. âNo, sweetheart. Not that kind of shower. To shower with love. The party is just to celebrate the babies before they arrive.â
âWill there be cake?â he asked, excitement lighting up his face at the prospect of sweets.
âFor my sisterâs sake, there better be.â Elainâs late-stage pregnancy craving was anything sweet. Cookies, cakes, pastries, whatever she could get her hands on, she was eating it. Azriel was barely able to keep the pantry stocked with desserts for her to snack on.
Her husband chuckled. âIf she doesnât, weâll stop by a bakery on our way home and get each of you a cake. Howâs that sound?â he asked, grasping her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.
She grinned. âYou spoil me.â
He looked at her then. âYou deserve to be spoiled.â
They were fashionably late to their baby shower, and Elain completely blamed her husbandâs morning sexual charade for the delay in their arrival. Not that she minded at all. She had another Braxton Hick contraction in the car, Azriel eying her with worry and once again asking if they should make a pitstop at the hospital just in case.
But that wouldâve made them even more late and Elain knew it was unnecessary.
All of their friends and family were waiting for their arrival. And she hated being late.
âWhat am I going to do with you gone for six months, Elain?â Thesan teased, taking a sip of his beer.
She shot a devilish grin at the head nurse sitting on the couch across from her. âIâm sure Viv would love to pick up all the slack.â
Viviane squawked in outrage and pointed a menacing finger in her direction. âDonât put your work on me while youâre enjoying your babymoon, Elain Archeron-Knight.â
The group laughed as she pushed herself up off the couch. Another contraction hit her and she winced, catching the attention of the sharp-eyed nurse. But before she could ask, Kaden came bounding up to her, tugging on the skirt of her dress.
âMomma, can I have a cake pop?â He looked up at her with those damn puppy eyes he knew she couldnât resist.
Elain ran a hand through his hair. âSure, sweetie. Only one. You donât want to spoil your appetite for Uncle Cassianâs good barbeque.â
Said uncle was out in the backyard tending to the grill with her husband, Rhys, and the Moonbeam brothers because, apparently, thatâs where men gathered. Aelin and Rowan had joined them, the former getting an eyebrow raise from Azriel at her companyâs appearance.
She made her way to the kitchen, hoping to perhaps score one of those cake pops herselfâshe was the guest of honor, surely she could snag one too. Feyre, Nuala, and Cerridwen had been busy putting together the final touches for lunch and were just waiting for Cassianâs proteins to serve food.
But just as she reached the breakfast bar, a wave of excruciating pain washed over her. Catching herself on the counter, Elain gripped the side of her stomach, groaning loud enough that the other room went silent. And then she felt it. Liquid surged between her legs, puddling the floor beneath her.
No. No, it was too soon. They couldnât be coming already.
Viviane rounded the corner from the living room as Feyre and the twins approached her.
Somebody breathed her name, but she couldnât decipher who it was over the blood rushing in her ears.
More footsteps sounded as her friends and family came from the living room to see what was going on.
âElain.â It was Feyreâs voice that broke through the fog of fear that had clouded her, but she was too numb to respond. Too nervous. âSomebody get Azriel!â
Her panic grew and her breathing turned shallow. It was too soon. She wasnât ready, wasnât prepared enough. The anxiety of giving birth hit her like a freight train.
She couldnât do this.
She couldnât.
~~~~~
Azriel took a swig of his beer, rolling his eyes at the cad comment Rhys made. His tanned skin warmed in the sunlight even with the sleeves of his button-down rolled up to his elbows. With a glance at the large window, he caught Elain rising from her spot on the couch, Kaden gripping her dress to speak with her.
Gods, that fucking dress. Elain looked like a maternal goddess in it, emphasizing her swollen belly, brimming with the life of his children. Az never realized he had a breeding kink until he and Elain got back together. His desire to fill her with his seed, to watch her grow with life had him hardening in his pants.
Now at eight months, she had reached the stage where little things irked the hell out of her. Honestly, her temper was cute as hell, but he tried to be considerate of her exhaustion and short-fuse, offering himself up to take the heat of her ire. It was only fairâheâs the one that got her pregnant.
It may have made him a primitive, alpha-douchebag, but fuck did he love to see her waddling around, pregnant and barefoot in their home. She was already such a wonderful mother to their boy, Kaden. Cassian had been right. He was so incredibly grateful for Elainâs maternal instinct.
âSomething caught your eye, brother?â Cassian taunted, grinning. His brother knew exactly what he was looking at. Or whom.
He shot him a dry look that had Cash chuckling.
âIf she wasnât already pregnant, Iâd say that look alone couldâve knocked her up,â he teased. âWho knew you had such a kink, Az.â
Azriel opened his mouth to retort, but the sliding glass door opening caught his attention.
Nuala peeked her head out, a worried look on her face that had his stomach tightening in knots. âAzriel! Get in here now!â
But he was already moving, dropping his drink on the table and running after her into the house, his brothers and friends hot on his heels. He froze in the entryway of the kitchen, taking in the scene for a split second before his eyes settled on Elain bent over the counter, a puddle of clear liquid beneath her.
His feet ate up the space between them in three long strides, her name falling from his lips as he cupped her face and forced her gaze on his. Azriel prided himself in knowing exactly what Elain was feeling, what she was thinking by just the look on her face. He read her better than he did himself. So, seeing the blatant apprehension and worry written as clearly as a tattoo on her forehead had his heart racing in his chest.
Her eyes were wet with the tears he could tell she was trying to hold back.
âLove,â he said quietly, unsure how to proceed at the moment.
She blinked like hearing him cleared a bit of the fog that had washed over her. âAzriel.â Her voice cracked.
He folded her into his arms, trying to soothe whatever worries were troubling her. âYouâre okay, my love.â
Elain seemed to melt in his embrace, her tension slowly ebbing away the longer he held her. He gave her whatever time she needed, ignoring the audience they had around them, but it was long enough for another contraction to hit. She cried out, gripping his hand in hers and squeezing tight.
Viviane snapped into action at that. âAzriel, her contractions are about nine minutes apart now. Sheâs going to have at least two more by the time you reach the hospital.â
âNo hospitals,â Elain growled.
That had him pulling back to look down at her. âEl, the babies are comingââ
âNo. Hospitals.â He could see the wavering in her face. âIâ,â she paused, hesitating. âTheyâre not ready. Itâs too early. Too soon. They canât come out yetâŠâ Her head fell until she was looking at the wetness still sitting on the floor. âIâm not ready,â Elain whispered so quietly, that he almost missed it.
Azriel knew that was nerves speaking. While Kaden made them parents, the idea of giving birth to the twins was the primary source of her fear. The books he read said that many expectant mothers experienced this type of anxiety right around the time they went into labor. If they were going to have any success in her having a smooth birth, Azriel needed to get her to calm down. He glanced at Cassian. âCan you get her a chair?â
His brother grabbed one from the dining room, setting it out for Az to carefully guide Elain into. He knelt in front of her, keeping her hands clasped firmly in his. âElain, sweetheart,â her dark eyes latched onto his, needing to hear his reassurance. He kept his voice low, wishing they didnât have to have this conversation in front of their friends and family.
Rhys seemed to sense that and began ushering people out of the room. âLetâs give the couple a few minutes.â
He shot his brother a grateful look before returning his attention to Elain. âSweetheart, I know youâre scared. I know itâs earlier than we were expecting. But if there is one thing that I am certain of is that you can do this.â He squeezed her hands in comfort. âYou are the strongest person I know. Youâve been through so much that once all is said and done, youâre going to look at me and tell me that this was the easy part. I promise you that if anyone can do this, itâs you. And I will be right by your side for every step, holding your hand, giving you ice chips, and bearing whatever you need me to bear to bring our children into the world.â
She sniffed, a small smile tugging at her lips. âYouâre sure?â
âWithout a doubt, Elain. You can do this.â He brought their joined hands up to his mouth, kissing her fingers and letting her absorb whatever confidence she needed. âSo, what do you say? Are you ready to have our babies, love?â
Elain huffed a laugh, his words settling the nerves she had. âYes, letâs go have our babies,â she breathed, her grin taking over her entire face, lasting all of thirty seconds before a look of panic took root once more. âAz, the birthing bag is still at the house.â
He let out an undignified snort. âDo you think after having that contraction in front of me this morning, Iâd leave the house without having absolutely everything packed and ready to go? Come on, baby, you know me better than that. Itâs all in the back of the car.â
She blinked in surprise. âThe birthing bag and my pillow?â
âIn the car,â he confirmed.
âKadenâs overnight bag?â
âIn the car.â
âThe car seats for the twins?â
He scoffed. âYou know I installed those weeks ago, try again.â
Her lips quired up at the corner. âWhat about the slippers I was wearing this morning?â she asked, thinking she had him.
Az rolled his eyes in playful exasperation. âI grabbed them when I snagged the birthing bag.â He kissed her hands again. âIâve got you, love.â
And then she was leaning forward, kissing him with so much love and devotion, he felt it down to the soul she brought back to life. The sound of their familyâs cheers forced them apart, a pretty blush dusting the tops of Elainâs cheeks, but she didnât dare look away from him.
Without looking away from her, Azriel reached into his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Rhys. âCan you grab Kadenâs bag from the trunk? The one with dinosaurs. And then Elainâs purple one as well.â
Elainâs brows furrowed in confusion. âWhy is he grabbing mine?â
His lips pulled up into a knowing grin, brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, âI thought you might like to change your underwear and put on a maternity pad for the ride to the hospital.â
Her cheeks heated in embarrassment, but she nodded in agreement. Â
A little body shuffled closer. âMomma?â Kaden murmured, looking so very worried over the state of his mother.
She held her arms out, motioning him forward. âCâmere sweetheart.â Elain tucked him into her chest, kissing the top of his head. âYouâre going to stay here with Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys while Daddy and I go to the hospital to have your brother and sister.â
He looked up at her with those puppy-dog eyes and damn, the kid knew how to work them. âBut I want to go with you!â His lower lip quivered and Azriel could tell he was on the verge of tears.
But his wife took it in stride, cupping his little face in her palms and swiping her thumbs across his cheeks. âI know, sweetheart. I know you do. But youâll have a much better time here with your aunt and uncle. Mommaâs not going to be fun to be around until your siblings are here.â She kissed his plump cheek. âBut I promise that you will be the first to see us once they arrive. Okay?â
Feyre stepped forward, reaching out a hand for their son. âCome on, Kaden. Weâll have lots of fun eating all the desserts left over.â She shot them a wink when he finally relented, taking her fingers.
After cleaning her up as best as he could and getting her a maternity pad from her bag, he and Elain were in the car on the way to the hospital. As Viviane predicted, she had two more contractions on the way, grabbing his offered hand and the âoh shitâ bar as she groaned her way through it. And then promptly went into a third one right as they arrived.
Az timed them out, still sitting about nine minutes apart. âBreathe, baby. Good, love. Just like that.â His thumb grazed the back of her hand. Her grip was tight, on the verge of painful, but he didnât dare let his face flinch or show an ounce of discomfort. She needed his strength and thatâs exactly what he was going to give her.
They were immediately escorted to their private room and Elainâs vitals were checked over. She was sitting at only two centimeters dilated, which meant they were looking at being there for a bit.
Between her contractions, he swapped out his clothes for a fitted black t-shirt and grey sweatpants to get more comfortable and then sent a text to their siblings to notify them that they were in and settled, but it would be a while before they would have any progress.
âCan you check in with Kaden?â Elain asked, taking a scoop of ice chips from her cup.
The corner of his lips curled up at the question. âI already did. Feyre said he wouldnât leave the front window for a while and had to persuade him with his baby cousin and a lot of sweet treats.â
She snorted, shaking her head. âHeâs going to have a mouth full of cavities before we get home.â Elain twisted to look at him. âDo you think we made the right decision by not letting him come with us? It sounds like heâs waiting for us to return. I know that some families let their little ones be present for the birth of their siblings and we discussed itââ
He interrupted her train of thought. âI think we made the right call, love. Weâre going to be here for a while and we both know that things can upset him. I donât know how well heâd handle watching you go through that.â
She nodded but didnât look very convinced.
Azriel reached for her hand, covering it with his own and squeezing her fingers. âHeâs safe and well-cared for. Remember that while we focus on bringing his little brother and sister into the world.â He brushed his lips over her knuckles in a sweet kiss.
Elain smiled softly at him. âOkay.â
And so, they waited.
Per his wifeâs birthing plan, she wanted to attempt to go natural. Azriel admired her strength and resilience in doing so. But after over sixteen hours of hard labor, he could see her resolve fading.
He stroked her cheek, fingers brushing hair behind her ear. âTalk to me, sweetheart.â
Dark circles already lined the underneath part of her eyes. She looked so weary. âIâm so tired, Az.â Her voice came out nearly broken and fuck if that didnât just rip his beating heart from his chest.
Kissing her forehead, he murmured, âDo you want to get the epidural? Itâll help you get some much-needed rest before the delivery.â As of now, she was only at seven centimeters and the doctor had said it could still be a while longer until she reached a full ten.
Her chin dipped in confirmation. âPlease.â
Azriel didnât waste time calling for the nurse. Within ten minutes, he watched as a grossly large needle was inserted into her back, sending that relief washing over her. He peppered her face with kisses during the procedure, murmuring words of praise and comfort in her ear as she gritted her teeth through it.
Elain spent the next eight hours in a fitful sleep, dosing off and waking up not long after each time. Azriel didnât bother to try and sleep, not when she wasnât really getting much at all.
But finally, after just past nine, she was fully dilated and ready to push.
His wife pushed and pushed and pushed for a half hour with nothing to show for it. She was in tears, frustrated, and so exhausted he was practically supporting all her weight having slid an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.
âI canât, I canât,â she sobbed, half burying her face into his chest.
âYou can, love. Youâre so strong. Just a little bit more,â he tried to reassure her. It fucking killed him to see her like this.
âCanât you do it for me?â she pleaded, looking up at him with wild, desperate eyes.
He gripped her cheek in his palm, kissing her temple. âYou know I would, El. I would give anything to switch places with you right now. But I know you can do this. Just a few more pushes and then theyâll be here.â
Whatever she read within his words seemed to do the trick, her brows furrowing with a determination he hadnât seen since they left the house. Elain pushed herself up, trying to get into a kneeling position, and he was right there, sliding behind her and supporting her weight.
The nurses squawked, muttering something about hospital policy, but frankly, he did not give a fuck, snarling, âHer body is telling her to push like this. Listen to your fucking patient.â
Changing the position was exactly what she needed because their son was born within the next two contractions, entering the world with a healthy set of lungs.
They sagged back against the pillows, his face wet with tears as they placed their new baby directly on Elainâs bared chest. He couldnât stop himself from tipping her head back to kiss her softly on the lips, pausing the savor the moment.
Az traced the pads of his fingers over the curve of their boyâs cheek, just needing to touch him to prove he was here with them. Even covered in fluids, he was so beautiful. The perfect blend of the two of them.
The nurses gave them just a few minutes with the first baby before Doctor Chen said that she needed to start pushing again. She took their boy from Elainâs arms, promising to bring him back for Azriel after he was cleaned up and their daughter was born.
Delivery of their little girl went easier than with their son. But whereas their boy came out crying, their daughter came out silent.
Azriel knew something was wrong just by the silence, but it only grew the anxiety in his stomach when the doctor turned her back on them, taking their little one with her to work on.
âSheâs not crying,â Elain breathed, worry clouding her voice.
He could only squeeze her shoulders in comfort, watching as they shoved things into her nose and mouth.
âSuction,â Chen ordered.
âAzriel, why isnât she crying?â
âSheâs going to be okay, love. Theyâre helping her. Sheâs okay.â The words passed his lips even as his heart dropped into his stomach when they started doing compressions on her tiny body.
No.
This couldnât be happening. They couldnât lose her. It would kill him to lose his little girl, but Elain, fuck, he couldnât even begin to fathom the devastation she would face at this loss. There was nothing he could do. He couldnât pay to fix this or threaten someone to save their baby girl.
So, he did what any father would do.
He prayed.
He prayed to every god, every deity, everything, and anything he could think of to keep his little girl safe and bring her back to them. To take her place if they demanded it. A life for a life. Heâd pay it for his child, his family. âCome on,â he murmured. âCome on, baby. Come on.â
Elain curved her face into the side of his chest, howling in a way heâd never heard from her before.
His arms went around her, that dreaded feeling turning his blood cold. The terror he felt of their little one dead before she lived was unlike anything heâd ever experienced. But still, he did not stop praying, clutching Elainâs shaking body to his. âCome on, little one. Come on!â he chanted. âPlease.â
And then, a rattled cough tore from her tiny body, followed by the sweet, beautiful sound of her cry.
Elainâs wail turned into relieved sobs, as the doctor walked over their bundled little girl and placed her into his wifeâs awaiting arms.
âSomebody was just so excited to meet you, she took a breath a little too early, but we cleared out her passages and lungs and she looks good now.â
His wife tucked their daughter into her chest, kissing the top of her head. âHi sweet girl, Mommaâs here,â she whispered, tears still falling down her cheeks. Tears that matched the ones running down his face.
She was here. His baby girl. Fuck, she looked just like him, with dark hair and tanned skin. He hadnât gotten a look at her eyes yet, but already she was the most beautiful thing heâd ever seen.
âHere you go, Mr. Archeron-Knight,â one of the other nurses said, pulling his attention from his wife and daughter as she handed him his son, cleaned up and wrapped in a soft blanket.
The small bundle was gently laid in the crook of his elbow. Azriel didnât think heâd ever feel the amount of love he did on Kadenâs adoption day, but sitting here with his gorgeous wife, holding their newborn twins, he felt his heart soar in his chest.
Sweaty and fatigued, Elain glanced up at his face, the sweetest, exhausted smile pulling on her lips. âI love you,â she murmured.
He let out a sound that was a cross between a chuckle and a sob. âI love you more.â And then he kissed her, sealing that moment in time with his undying love for her.
~~~~~
Elain woke to the sound of a whimpering cry, swiftly followed by Azrielâs low voice.
âHey, sweet girl. Whatâs wrong, huh?â She heard some shuffling as her husband lifted their daughter from the nursery bed. âMomma needs her sleep so we need to be quiet.â He kept his voice low enough to not disturb herâfuck she loved him so muchâbut she was already awake, rolling over in the hospital bed to face him.
Azriel holding his children was, hands down, the sexiest thing sheâd ever seen. How she could even feel the need for him after pushing two babies out of her currently aching and severely injured body was beyond her, but just watching him bounce their fussing daughter made all those desires come roaring to the surface.
Almost as if he could sense her presence, hazel eyes slid to hers. âIâve got her, love. Go back to sleep.â His voice remained soft as night as if anything louder would disturb her.
She curled up on her side, watching him. âI think we should get used to no sleep now.â
He huffed a laugh, patting Rosalie on her back as she further settled into the crook of his elbow.
Their daughter was almost two pounds smaller than her brother, coming in right at five whereas Ryder was a healthy six pounds, fourteen ounces. The doctor was a little concerned over Rosalieâs lower birth weight, but Elain had managed to get both babies to latch and feed earlier and she ate well, so they were mainly playing it by ear.
Because of her smaller size, Azriel already placed an order for some preemie clothes and sent a photo of her with the twins to their siblings. They asked to give them a day to recuperate before coming to the hospital in the morning. After the scare with Rosalie, both she and Azriel wanted to take some time to spend with the babies. Plus, the medical team was in and out of their room, taking Rosalie for some additional tests just to be sure everything looked good.
It was just after seven that night, and they were settling in for the evening. Tired of hospital food, Azriel ordered hamburgers from DoorDash for them to eat. Elain was starving and it sounded so good that she drooled when she suggested it to him. Both babies had been fed only an hour earlier and she anticipated not having another feeding till late evening or early morning.
Elain grabbed whatever sleep she could, knowing sheâd need it when they were released in a couple of days, but she was sure Azriel hadnât slept a wink since sheâd gone into labor.
She pushed herself up, reclining on her pillows. The nurses cleaned her after the delivery and stitched her up from tearing, but Elain couldnât wait to get home and take a proper shower. âDoes she need to be changed?â she asked, nodding to the now-sleeping baby in her husbandâs arms.
Azriel shook his head. âNo, I think she was just fussing.â His dark hair was still mussed up from when he stripped out of his shirt earlier, taking time for skin-to-skin contact with each of the twins.
Elain had to rein in her laugh at how the nurse blushed as he revealed miles of gloriously tanned, tattooed skin and corded muscle. Her husband was a fine specimen, but he never flaunted it, so seeing another woman react to it was humorous especially since he didnât even seem to notice her blushing, stammering state.
âYou should sleep too, Az,â she said instead.
He looked at her, his lips curving up. It had been doing that a lot since the birth of the twins. The sweetest, smallest smile that crept up the corners of his mouth. Almost as if he didnât even realize he was doing it. It was utterly adorable and made him look younger. âIâll rest later. You need it more than me.â
Her shoulders shook in amusement. âYou know, we can sleep when they do.â
âI just donât want to miss a second of them.â His attention returned to his little girl who already had him wrapped around her finger. To be fair, all of their children did. âFuck, I canât believe theyâre here already. It seems like it was only a month ago you found out you were pregnant.â
âI canât believe our first anniversary is coming up in just a handful of weeks.â
At that, he laughed. âI guess a trip for our anniversary is out of the question?â
She grinned. âNot unless all our little ones are coming with us.â Because like hell was she going to be able to leave them so soon. Plus with her nursing, it just wouldnât be ideal.
He seemed to consider her. âWe could take the jet to the Summer District. Kaden will be out of school then and weâll both still be out on leave. Just a thought.â
Gods, he was fucking perfect. âThat might be nice.â
A knock on the door interrupted whatever he was going to say. He frowned in confusion, looking at her.
Elain shrugged, sitting up further on her bed. âCome in,â she called out.
She thought it might be a nurse or a doctor, coming to check on her or the twins. What she didnât expect was for Rhys to peek his head into the room. Surprise lit her features and she glanced at Azriel, who looked equally as bewildered at the sudden visit from their brother.
âHey,â Rhys said. âI apologize for dropping by unannounced, but somebody really couldnât wait till tomorrow to see you.â He opened the door slightly, revealing Kaden clutching a teddy bear, eyes puffy and red from crying.
Her heart ached at the distress their son mustâve been in for Rhys to come all the way here. âHello sweetheart,â she said, keeping her voice soft. âCome here, my love.â
He took a small step further into the room, Rhysâs hand guiding him at the backside of his head. Kaden took slow steps as he approached the side of her bed. âMomma, are you sick?â
She reached out to cup his cheek in her palm. âNo, baby. Iâm not sick. Your brother and sister decided it was time to come out of my tummy.â Her eyes found Azrielâs as he rose from his seat on the couch, moving toward them. âWould you like to meet them?â she asked, returning her gaze to Kadenâs.
His head dipped in confirmation.
Elain pushed herself back even more. âRhys, can you help him up and then grab me that flat pillow over there.â
He set the boy on the bed between her spread legs, Kaden shuffling backward and bumping into her sensitive lower area.
She hissed out in pain before she could stop herself. A wave of agony washed over her with enough intensity that her stomach curdled with nausea.
Azriel reacted immediately. âEasy, buddy. Mommaâs going to be sore for a while and we need to be extra careful with her.â
âIâm okay,â she spoke quickly, not wanting to upset Kaden any more than he already was, and kissed his plump cheek as she breathed through the pain. âOkay, Rhys. Place the pillow over our laps.â
Adjusting his arms in preparation, Azriel gently lowered their daughter until she comfortably rested on the nursing pillow.
âKaden, this is your sister, Rosalie,â he announced, letting his finger stroke her rounded cheek.
Elain couldnât see his face directly, but she did catch his eyes widening as he stared down at her, his fingers carefully tracing over her delicate features just as his father did.
âRosawee,â he said, not quite catching the ending syllable. It would be something they would have to work on. When she kicked a leg within her swaddle, he pulled his hand back, startled.
She laughed, feeling the bed dip as Azriel sat down next to them, bringing over their son. âAnd this is your brother, Ryder.â
He reached out to trace the outline of his brows, the touch gentle and exploratory. âIâm a brother?â he asked, turning his head to look up at her.
âThatâs right sweetheart. Youâre their big brother, and theyâre going to love you so much,â she told him, kissing the top of his head.
Elain took in her family, her incredible husband, and three beautiful children. It sounded so wild to even think about. She was a wife and a mother. Thinking back, she remembered the day that had changed the trajectory of her life forever. The bank robbery a few years back. It was crazy to think how such a terrifying moment altered her life in the best of ways. It brought her back to the love of her life.
It put her on this very path.
Sheâd face every one of the moments since then tenfold as long as it brought her to this point in time, sitting here with her gorgeous little family.
âPerfect.â
She looked up at Rhys, catching him with his phone out.
âYour first family photo.â
Her lips turned up and silver lined her eyes. âThank you, Rhys.â
He waved her off. âDo you want me to take Kaden back with me?â
âNo,â Azriel said, ruffling his eldest sonâs hair. âHe can stay here with us tonight. Can you put his booster seat in our car? The keys are in my bag.â
âYou got it.â He grabbed the keys but paused on the threshold. âAnd congratulations you guys. Rosalie and Ryder are beautiful.â
Azriel leaned further into her side, kissing her temple. âThank you, brother.â Once alone, he turned her head toward his, bringing her mouth to his for a slow, sweet kiss. âI love you so damn much, Elain.â
His smile was infectious, making her lips turn up at the corners. âThank you, Azriel, for giving me this lifeâthese babies. You have made me the happiest I could ever imagine. I love you.â
âMomma! Sheâs got my finger,â Kadenâs giggle interrupted their moment.
They laughed, looking at their three beautiful children.
Elain knew that this perfect moment was just the very beginning of the rest of their lives.
~~~~~
Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. đ
While I have moved most of my fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.
My fanfic account:Â @tswaney17ficsâ
My ao3 account:Â tswaney17
Taglist:Â
@nikethestatue
@reverie-tales
@123moiaussi
@duskwhisperer
@zdenkah
@nyxreads
@shedoessoshedoes
@athena-85
@jasmineandshadows
@nightcourtseer
@nivem565
@debramclaren
@illyrianvalkyriecarynthian
@secretpuppyflower
@justreallybored
@ultadverb
@the-regal-warrior
@roseandshadows
@tcursebreaker
@kingravinger
@mis-lil-red
@eloeloeheheh
@fawnandshadows
@swankii-art-teacher
@miss-bee-cat
@bookhhrelaz
@impossiblescissorspeachpaper
@elrielbaby
@lesolehabitantdelalune
@thoughtsaboutshows
@britishwings
@aelin21galathynius
@saz-griffin
@azrielslight
@bookstaninthesoul
@curiositywoman
@karsyn-b2
@elainsweetcobalt
@emilyondemand
Some tags seem to not want to link, which could be related to your visibility settings. Sorry about that!
60 notes
·
View notes
colour me in: translucent | jjk (m)
Summary: And whenever the world seems to fall apart and your thoughts cast a shadow over your heart, he rushes to lift you to your feet. Conjoining your hearts and souls, again and again and again.
âł pairing: Jungkook x reader
âł rating: 18+
âł genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; some healthy angst, so much fluff, smut
âł warnings: yâall. So. Much. Fluff, talk about stars, talk about his hometown, mention of a wedding đ, 1 nara mention, a guest appearance!!, and another guest appearanceâŠ, daddy issues mention, oc has a tummy ache :(, banter, conversation with her mom, badass oc, their friends <3, moving and work stress, overworking, kook panics in this one, oc does too, tears and tears and teaâ, abandonment issues, overthinking!!!, they communicate too late bc theyâre scared, pregnancy scare, mention of throwing up, kissing and hand holding <3, petnames, insecurities/slight envy; explicit sexual content: diving right into the smut as the chapter starts đ€, tie around ocâs neck ha ha, oral (f. receiving) (over panties and without đ„Č), fingering, brief masturbation (m.), making out, jk takes the backseat and oc drives for a while <3, bit of choking, theyâre half clothed for a bit, tiddie and butt love, tears, flirting, big dick jk, soft dom jk, emotions omg đ·, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he unloads in her mouth đ, and yeah, maybe more but i forgot â lmk if you notice smth! also⊠THE đ EN đ DING đšđšđš
âł word count: 35.8k đÂ
âł a/n: here it is⊠after a long ass fight with tumblr and my tears, itâs here! i donât have much to say this time except that this chapter means the world to me. and i hope you love it just as much. shoutout to @missgeniality for betaing parts of this and helping me with difficult scenes, i truly struggled!! <3 if you guys enjoy this one, let me know and donât be shy to reach out!! love you and letâs dive in đ„ș
âł listen to: say you won't let go by james arthur | full collaborative playlist đ€
SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST
MASTERLIST | WIPs | DC SERVER
The whispers cease the moment your door closes.
The whispers of the world, of all traffic, of all passersby, of all echoes. And those in your head, susurrating since you left the glass building and its conference hall.
They dim the moment you drop your palm off the door; your heart is still a nervous mess as you take your shoes off, watch him take his shoes off. He places them neatly in the shoe cabinet, jacket hung on one of the coat hooks.
Right here, youâre surrounded by a tranquil, quiet dome. Not as subdued as the emotions the outer world elicits; just an arena that feels perpetually warm, sepia and still.
And amidst that warmth, thereâs yearning. You feel it in every nerve of your body, burning through your limbs. Stunning sentiments pull at your soul, making it heavy; and your heart floats, perpetually above the clouds.
As he rubs his cheek with a soft hand â you know, because you were holding it just two minutes ago, clutching it in the car for dear life â, you take a step forward, your mouth open, but not quite capable of saying all thatâs weighing on your tongue.
Theyâre good things; amazing things. And he hasnât yet gathered all his thoughts either to truly voice what heâs been hiding since you left the chaos. Only opting for the living room, painfully slowly, as if heâs waiting to face you again.
And maybe⊠maybe he really is. And maybe he doesnât need to talk at all.
Because he stops the moment you speak, tenderly calling, âJungkook.â
Itâs all he needs. Combined with the lightest touch to his elbow, a hint of your voice is all he needs. He wants to keep hearing his name. Again and again and again. And today, announcing it to the world, you promised that youâll be doing just that.
Shit. What have you done to his heart? He wants to ask questions that neither of you has an answer to; or, not one that can be verbalised. One that could explain this euphoria.
So he doesnât say anything at all.
Instead, he stumbles as he turns back to you again, taking a deep breath before his head tilts. The unbounded amount of want is swimming in his tired eyes, and you barely manage a hushed, âShould weââ before his fingers flutter and heâ
Dashes straight toward you. One large step, both hands jacking up to take your face captive. He raises your head, eyes closing, mouth parting an inch before itâs locked with yours.
If he hadnât started, you would have.
The same thumb always caressing your skin pulls your lower lip down. An unfaltering habit, tender whenever he spirals. You trip backwards, with him in tow, immediately gripping his arms with a wild, accelerating heartbeat.
Your soul was already awake, lit up from todayâs events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine â and now it flushes pink.
For a while, your kissâ sounds are all that echo off the wall, mixing with your sighs. He starts gently, head angled, diving deeper.
Every now and then, he tugs at your lip ever-so-slightly, teeth and tongue dragging over it. The wet muscle is soft against yours, and you let your touch drop down to his waist to hold him closer.
But thereâs not that much time to dissolve into him right here, against your entrance door, because Jungkook backs away before you can bid your sanity adieu. Maybe thatâs for later.
Maybe you need to be okay with his breath grazing your skin for now, for the words he murmurs so close to your lips, âYouâre crazy for this. Absolutely crazy.â
You are. Both okay with this, and incredibly crazy.
Thereâs never been more certainty in your actions or your intentions than whatever you do with him. For him â if that deems you crazy, then you absolutely are.
Heated from the kiss, Jungkook steps away, but not without entangling your fingers with his. On the way to the bedroom, you ignore everything that doesnât entail him.
Like, the humming of the fridge. Or the sound of the traffic outside, audible through the tilted window. And the buzzing of your phone; itâs been doing that for a while now.
Of course it is.
But you donât hesitate to deposit it on your bedside table mere seconds later; you barely manage to put it there, nearly watching it slide down as Jungkook pulls you back. You clash against his body, and the tongue once again mingling with yours only enhances your disorientation.
God, youâre a lost cause. Nothing else to expect with his palm holding your jaw, arm slung around you, kissing you senseless.
Time slows down; the sensation turns electric. His motions are rhythmic, fingers brushing your neck. And despite the bitterness he must have felt at the conference, he tastes so , so sweet.
Heady desire growing, you grip the back of his head, pushing it closer. Youâre insatiable. Yearning for more of his damp, soft lips, hysterical when he lets out a craving, small moan.
âDo you have any idea,â he starts, giving your neck no more than a handful of teasing pecks, âwhat that did to me?â
He moves back until you plummet into the mattress; your eyes follow when he leans in and falls to his knees. Placing a hand at the nape of your neck, tenderly moving your face a bit closer to his.
âWithout a warning, too,â he continues, âwhat, were you planning to drive me mad for so long?â
Not the angry kind of mad. His smile and the fondness in his eyes reveal that much. No â the mad that a lover is.
âDid it work?â you ask, and he flashes his teeth, beloved crinkles around his eyes.
âDid it? What do you think?â He kisses your nose; then, the apple of your cheek. âYou didnât notice any of it today? Or any other time before that?â
âI wanted to⊠I want everyone to know. I was going to tell you when you came home, but⊠I wanted to say it in front of everybody. That,â you touch the collar of his blazer, rubbing it between your fingertips, âIâm done with their games. I donât care anymore, Jungkook.â
âI know⊠You donât care.â His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. âBut you care about me, yes? You care so much.â
Itâs not really a question. Itâs a statement, a reassurance to himself. A mantra, as if he needs to repeat it and let it reverberate in his mind until heâs grasped its meaning.
âI do,â you whisper, peeling the blazer off his shoulder by only a few inches, âand I want to stay. Can I⊠just stay here?â
âYouâre crazy,â he echoes once more, emphasising his words with a shake of his head, âto think Iâll let you go again. Youâll see.â
Although he still establishes a brief, temporary distance between the two of you right after; youâre reluctant to stop feeling his warmth when he stands. He towers over you, and you muster utmost courage to not faint.
Because the sight is one to behold.
How he removes the blazer in a swift movement, discarding it on top of the table at the wall. He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, but only one side, glancing at you throughout the ordeal.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â you ask.
âWhy is your mouth open like that?â
âDo this exactly in front of a mirror, and⊠and youâll know why.â
He smirks. âRight. And stare at yourself in the mirror for longer than a second, and youâll know why, too.â
God, this guyâŠ
And he actually doesnât stop.
His pupils keep wandering; to your eyes, to your lips, to your heaving chest. To how you close your legs when he loosens his tie with tattooed fingers, lettered knuckles on full display. He opens a single button of his dress shirt; enough to reveal a patch of golden skin.
The tie dangles off his neck, doing wonders to your mind, and you resist the urge to grab it and pull him down to you. But you donât need to; you only get to cherish the sight for another second.
Because right after, he pulls it over his head, baring the highly kissable mole on his neck beforeâ
âWhat are you doing?â you wonder, eyes wide, and probably filled with anticipation as he puts the tie around your neck. âIâmâŠâ
âLooks a lot better on you.â
One more shake of his head. You subtly catch a jerk behind his pants, and your gaze drops instantly. Behind the dark slacks, heâs already waiting for you, and the thought leaves you frothing at the mouth.
âYouâre not looking bad yourselfâŠâ you say, drifting off, barely looking into his face as your hand reaches out. âMay I?â
âWhat, baby?â
âJustâŠâÂ
You move forward, a palm to his thigh, and close your eyes before placing a kiss to the growing bulge. It twitches under your lips, and you drag your mouth lightly over his dickâs outline.
âShouldâve known,â Jungkook breathes, affected straight away, âbut somehow, this is worse than your hand.â
âReally?â
He clicks his tongue when you do it again, unfazed by the layer between you as you give his clothed cock an open-mouthed kiss. Two of his fingers settle underneath your chin, and he raises your head in order to meet your gaze.
Then, he pushes you back a little, within a second back to one knee; then the other. He cocks an eyebrow as if to reprimand you, but then gulps down a chuckle as he says, âReally. But wait a bit more.â
You need to wait, because he prioritises your pleasure. One demand youâre ready to give into.
So, so prepared, when he asks politely, âOpen your slacks?â You do. The way he drags his hands over your thigh and up to your hips, starting to discard your pants, is arguably less polite. âHere we go. Raise your ass.â
You help him out as best as you can. But he attaches his lips to your naked thigh the moment it comes into view, scattering kisses over your hot skin as he casts it off of you entirely.
You raise your feet a bit above the ground, and he uses the moment to separate your legs. Doesnât even bother taking off your panties first; casually making himself at home between your limbs.
Light-headed, you open your eyelids halfway to glance at the blurry ceiling light; you never noticed when you closed them. Maybe when the sweetness spread over your thighsâ skin.
Maybe heâs as dizzy as you â only, when your whirling stare descends to his face, heâs smirking. And for a second, you donât understand why. Puzzled, you keep looking, observing the tempting lick over his lips; the deep exhale; the barely-there blinking.
And then he says, âNever thought about it. But you should wear light-coloured panties more often.â
ââŠWhy?â
But you soon get why.
Because you feel the arousal behind the fabric. How it glues your pussy to it, the damp spot probably growing. Itâs visible â thatâs what heâs liking so much.
He can see all of the desire you harbour for him, showcased so blatantly. And despite the embarrassment, watching his face flush in that rosy dust boosts your ego, too.
Your face burns.
âYouâve been like that forâŠâ he starts, shrugging his shoulders in curiosity, âhow long now?â
âLong enough. And I dare you to do something about it.â
Because fuck, he talks too much. In hindsight, only really when you need him to shut up; deliberately.
âOh god,â he exclaims, dramatic as ever; as he raises a hand, you nearly think heâll place it on his chest for further effect, but he only touches your knee, ânow if youâre daring me, Iâll have to.â
âMhm. Iâm sure youâre not a sore loââ
âYeah, yeah.â
Itâs a rude interruption, and the sudden push of his fingertip against your clit is ruder. Itâs a momentary touch, fleeting, as opposed to the slow and calculated way that he buries his face in your panties. Eyes glued to yours for a moment.
And thenâŠ
Then, you relish the first taste of Heaven â as does he, you suppose.
Because the satisfied sigh is outrageous, hot against your covered folds. He licks over the damp stain, only the tip of his tongue; thoroughly salivated, because you feel the wetness seeping through the clothing.
Thereâs no moment between the start of his action and your immediate, âFuck.â
And to him, your reaction sets just the tone for a woozy night to come. He nods between your legs, gelled back strands tickling, hums so sweetly. You adjust on your seat, though the subtle change affects nothing; only drives you wilder as you shift deeper into his face.
His tongue is painting circles over your clit. Drawing out sensations, and you donât understand how⊠thereâs underwear between him and you. A barrier, aching to be removed, so how is he doing this, howishedoingitâ
âNo! Oh godââ
You canât decipher why you voiced the rejection; you donât want him to leave. Frustrated when he does, mouth open, waiting for you to speak up until you do, âSorry. Sorry, I donât fucking knowâŠâ
âBabeâŠâ He shakes his head⊠Heâs doing so much of this today. But one of the loose strands keeps moving so gorgeously over his forehead, so if it was up to you, he could keep doing it. âDonât scare me like that.â
âSorryâŠâ
âNah.â He says it when you press your lips together, hot and bothered as he licks another stripe along your cunt. âDidnât mean it that way. Open that pretty mouth. Do scream, yeah?â
You could melt into the ground. Or into the sheets; he always knows what to say. No matter what the situation. A verbal monster once, a graceful poet another time.
They say, get you a man who can do both. But he can do all million things known to humankind and the book of romance.
His mouth works deeper into where you ache. Tongue action expanded, he returns to the panties, seeking one of your nether lips to tease it, pull at it. Heâs ruining your garment, making it stick to your pussy.
Pries your legs open when he comes back to the clit, and then drops down to the overflowing sex again. The sensual gestures are toying with your nerves, and you still canât figure out how. Leaves you waiting, yearning, craving the lack of a blockade in between.
And once the uncomfortable, wet cotton of your panties rubs against the inside of your folds, you finally speak up, âWhy are youââ
âSorry,â he interjects, aware of his bestiality. You see it in his stupid wicked smile. âI know. This is justâŠâ Big eyes stare back down, albeit hazier than before; his finger touches the drenched patch for a second. âSo good to look at.â
âYouâre the worst.â
âOf course.â
Shit, heâs so cheeky. If you had the strength, youâd wipe that bubbly smile off his face; not good for your heart. Would smooch it away. But fret not â youâll get your chance, too.
For now, you need to grant him this win. Not least of all, because it feels so good for you, too.
So you donât defy him when he suddenly moves in more. Hooks a finger into your panties and slides them aside, letting them snap back against the juncture between your pussy and leg. And then, you guess the actual fun starts.
Because he throws one carnal look at you before his arms wander under your legs. You can barely gather your thoughts before he digs in again, properly this time. Lips directly attaching to your skin, he starts diligent work on soiling your body.
And god, does he do it wellâŠ
So experienced. Aware. Studied you and your body well enough â because the agonisingly slow tease isnât random. He knows how much you hate it; knows how much you love it.
How it builds anticipation, and how it grows your desire.
Heâs a little fuck, but maybe thatâs why he never fails to break you this hard. You know heâs enjoying this â delighted when your eyebrows furrow, close to weeping as he breathes against your pussy.
Even though a man starved, he takes his time. For a second. Then another. And then parts your folds with his fingers, whispering, âWould you say thatâs better?â
Like heâs at some meeting. Goddamn.
You blink, responding, âI donât know. Better than the panties, worse thanâŠâ His finger slips in mid-speech, just halfway through when you manage a breathy, âthis.â
âI⊠Shit, youâre⊠hot as fuck.â
Right.
Even youâre turned on by how your head tips back again, eyes rolling inward when he diminishes the distance and kisses your cunt. Nobody else is going to raise your confidence like he does.
âMmmh,â he voices as the make out session intensifies, smacking noises sounding from below. He lifts his lips by a mere inch, only to mumble, âSo hot. So fucking good.â
And thatâs it â back to business.
âNnnghkookâŠâ
The arms he dropped under your legs sling around them, hooking in, and somehow, heâs able to reach to your back like that. Raises your legs in the process, pulling you in. Deeper in your heat, big button nose against your pelvis.
Your right hand attempts to grip his hair before you threaten to fall backwards, failing miserably. You immediately place both your palms back on the bed, because you doubt you can trust that damned left arm to hold you upright â quivering like this.
The tip of your tongue touches the arch of your upper lip, and then you tilt your head, warning him, âFuck⊠if you donât fuck my brains out today, JungkookâŠâ
Brains? Plural? Acting as though even oneâs present in your head right now.
Jungkook chuckles, licking you dry; the little sound combined with the sinful ordeal is a delightful one. Contrary, but gifting the moment some reality. Some tenderness. Youâre having fun.
He stops to throw the escaping strands back again â all in vain, of course â and brings his hand to your ass, moving you over the bed until youâre off the edge. You yelp, close to falling, but he holds you carefully.
Ass half dangling, he throws your legs over broad shoulders, kissing your thigh before he promises, âDonât worry at all. Wonât leave a single thought in either of our heads.â
You wince when he bites the flesh of your leg, and then proceeds to advance his soft lips to the tender ache. He collects saliva on his tongue, probably ready to dive in again; moves in at least, tickling your pelvis with his breath.
His nose takes a deep breath, inhaling you, dizzy from your scent. And his thumb â it floats over your clit, preparing for more insanity. But when the position elicits some discomfort, you say, âPut me on the bed. Can I⊠bed properly.â
Fragments of sentences. They make him smile.
âSure,â he says rather calmly; youâre anything but.
Itâs not normal. Watching a guy like Jeon Jungkook push his hair back with his jaw on full display; tongue darting out.
He signals his approval once more as he pats your thigh, and you make quick work at weakly turning around and crawling onto the bed. Youâre still trembling as you get on all fours, very conscious of what youâre doing.
Casually, you say, âIâll get the lube, too.â
Of course you know what might follow. What will follow. He never stops raving, daydreaming, bragging about your ass â walking past you in the kitchen, just to grapple a handful and to innocently claim, âWhat? I love your butt.â
But before he strikes this time, youâre only barely able to grab the lube out of the drawer, placing it next to the pillow instead of handing it back to him. Because⊠because before you know itâ
Thereâs already a finger to your pussy.
âShit,â you curse, âyou and your impatience.â
âDo you want me to wait?â he asks, as purely as the butt-love-statements as his touch retracts. Mellow voice; only a flutter of his lashes is missing, really. âI can wait.â
No, he canât. Liar.
âNo,â you repeat, readily letting your upper body fall. You bring your fingertips back to your ass, tracing it down until met with your arousal. âDonât do this to me now.â
You know his answer before he utters it, âDonât you do this to me now.â You hear a click of his tongue; a poised beam plays around your lips. âAlright. But.â
He snatches your legs from under your body until youâre flat on your tummy; you grunt just a bit. Not expecting the soft, little, âDo tell me if I do too much.â
As ifâŠ
He knows his limits. But the constant, caring pleads still always grip your heart; so you nod.
âOkay.â
Simultaneous with a fond slap, that word is the last verbal sign of his presence that you receive for a while. Whatever follows is a pure testing of limitations; of jumbling up your senses.
Because the moment Jungkook lifts your ass to his face, his tongue is already out. Experimental at first, of course, patient. He takes a second for languid kisses and soft necking, fingers exploring the inside of your thigh as if to soothe your restlessness.
And it helps. Your limbs shake a bit less, your mind focused on where his touches go. Fingertips near your folds. Lips kissing around your pussy. Then, repeating the same brush of his hands as before, but on your other leg, moving inward.Â
Despite the first taste he already got, heâs suddenly changed his tactic; and youâre greedy. Mewling in tiny, quiet sounds, barely realising that theyâre coming out of you. You repeat his name over and over, but it never quite tumbles out in its entirety.
So you keep it at moaning, eyes closed, so infinitely relaxed.
He moves back, gently asking, âAll good?â
âSo far⊠do more, please.â
Itâs what he always waits for. You know. Jungkook has a fetish for your pleas, and the tiniest fragment of your beseeching voice is usually enough for him.
Like now.
Encouraged, he pushes your shirt up to your tits, halting right under them. He touches your naked stomach, brushing your belly button, grazing a palm over your lower back and straight to your ass.
The tongue ghosting around your sex finally dares a step forward. Gets a little taste of whatâs to come. Circles around your folds, then to your nub; spit gathered on the tip, never too hard, oh-so-mildly â and maybe thatâs what makes it even worse.
The lack of any force. How pleasant it feels. And you let him know â respond with a desperate, unheard sound, goosebumps sprawling over your skin.
Jungkook discerns it as a signal to go on; to do more. His nose buries between your ass, pushing his tongue in a little further, alternating between licking and kissing and collecting spit. Your lust shoots to the sky; you twist and move, but he holds you in place with a single hand.
And when he disappears, you regret it immediately. You hear him say, âHey, hey⊠Donât you want me to fuck your brains out, sweetheart? Isnât that what you said?â
âMmhyes, yes, please.â
ââŠThen stop moving.â His nails are harsh against your waist, and you whimper. âThe more you behave now,â he leaves a kiss on your butt, loosening his grip around your waist, âthe harder Iâll go later.â
ââŠOkay. Okay. Iâm sorry.â
He chuckles. What an ass; leaving you physically and mentally covetting, and then enjoying your reactions.
âAre you okay with this?â he asks, biting a little, stroking your hips, holding onto your ass cheeks.
âMhm.â Itâs all you can voice at this point. You donât have any power over your body; canât lift it off the mattress. âLove it.â
âPerfect.â
And then, everything seems to happen faster.
Arousal and orgasm have already built from his advances, and he gives you the rest when he starts drawing circles around your pussy again. Heightens your senses, slurps and drinks you up. Every single time it feels like heâs learned something new; you swoon at the attention to detail.
What might he be looking like right now?
Perhaps heâs biting his lip. Maybe his eyebrows are furrowed, usually tell-tale signs of either him enjoying his meal or him enjoying his meal.
âShit,â you mumble, but you donât think he hears it â too busy sucking at your folds, adding a finger to the mix.
Sometimes, the licks are generous, wide-tongued; sometimes, he focuses on each part individually. The insides, the clit; how you sound, how you wind.
Thereâs truly an utter craze you feel for this man; no matter which hazy or soft or delicate situation, he fits you like a missing puzzle piece. Like a match made in Heaven. Knows what heâs doing.
Because he knows you. Because he studies you. Observes you.
Sex is only one instance of his attentiveness.
And perhaps thatâs the whipped thought that pushes you over the edge eventually. Maybe thatâs why the moment passes so quickly and explosions blind you all of a sudden. Why your face glows so hot, sweat collecting over your upper lip.
It must be.
Because as he stimulates you for another minute, your sensitive cunt submits, the knot in your lower stomach unwinding. He unties it fully, eliciting a stirring feeling that makes your pussy flutter.
âHoly shitâŠâ
You only register your voice when the peeping in your ear stops. Your voice is still damped, the world around you vanishing a bit; except for him. Always except for him.
And.
You also notice that your fingers are hurting. Did you dig them into the sheets too hard? Tug too hard? You donât know⊠but their pads are almost numb.
Jungkookâs mouth is still there, though lighter now, and his finger is slightly slapping your cunt, encouraging you to keep letting go. Catching you on his tongue.
And then⊠itâs over. You remain quiet.
Youâll be a mess for the foreseeable future; or at least, the upcoming one or two minutes. Your back and neck are already covered in a sheen of sweat; itâs so unbearably hot, as opposed to the recklessly approaching cold outside.
Remaining like this, you let him kiss your body through your orgasm, delicately soothing the pain his fingers caused across your ass. Hovering above the small of your back, he asks, âCan you move?â
âNot yet. ButâŠâ You scan the spot next to the pillow until you find the lube, throwing it back to him at last. âI can watch.â
No objection. So you turn around.
When you finally meet his gaze again, having started missing it, heâs already unbuckling his pants. Right there, towering above you, looking directly at you. Jaw chiselled, lips swollen.
You decide to spur him on; bring the tie between your covered tits before gentle fingers grasp them deftly. Rolling your digits around their outline before squeezing them. Thereâs an instant reaction: The hard bite of his lip, the rushed discarding of his clothes.
And fuck, heâs beautiful. So pretty how he despairs bit by bit, only letting his pants make it to his knees before his cock has sprung out. A true monster, bloodshot like this, further growing as it twitches and jerks⊠blue veins wanting to be licked.
But itâs lube-day, and neither of you can wait.
So you let him make a fist around his thickness, stroking it and momentarily letting out a groan. His chest seems to deflate, shoulders dropping as he jerks himself off once more, squirts some lube into his palm, and returns to his intentions.
âGood,â you praise, watching his cheeks grow rosier, âwish you could go all out.â
âI canât.â
You know. You know, because heâs storing all his patience for whatâs to come. With and for you.
Breath stagnating, you watch a drop of sweat trail down between his tanned pecs and then into his shirt; fabric sticking to his skin. He doesnât notice it, dazy as hell, wiping his tip clear of the precum. Every damn time youâre in disbelief when his cock grows in size, firmer and rock hard.
So many veins adorning it as it rises to his belly button; youâre sure youâll feel them against your walls, too. You get on wobbly knees, hair already a mess, both of you still in your soaked white dress shirts.
Jungkookâs mane is falling apart much as yours, messier now, but soaking him in so much more sex appeal. There are no boundaries to his beauty; it transcends your understanding.
Enough of watching, you mentally capitulate a minute later. Too many moans and clipped vocals fill the room, whiny once, deep later; so you float up once your body allows, targeting his cock straight-forwardly.
You only deliver one surprise kiss, helping him out as you drag your tongue along the tiny slit. He reacts, caught off guard, voicing, âOhââ
But against his possible expectations, you donât continue. Instead, you drag your hand along his cock only twice â up and down, feeling the smooth skin, the slippery lube, the hardness underneath.
And then, you order, âSit. Please.â
âWhat?â
âHere,â you point to the headboard, on your knees, kissing his sides and up his chest until you reach the open button. âSit down for me.â
He pauses. Waits for a moment, touching your cheek when your face aligns with his. And when you keep your begging, soft gaze intact, he huffs out a broken laugh, and states, âNot sure if I can trust you to not kill me. ButâŠâ A kiss to your left eyebrow. âAnything for you.â
And whatever happens next, passes by fast.
How he obliges, dick dangling in front of his body, waiting for ruin. How he hisses a little when the sweat-drenched back touches the cold headboard. And how you adjust your body, soon sitting in reverse, facing the closet.
Floating over his cock, straddling him, spreading your pussy with your fingers. He stutters behind you, grasping for words, but silences when you move and wiggle your ass a little, only dropping a few inches until your cock can prod your entrance.
And thatâs all you do. Multiple times. Practising restraint, focusing on the closet, blinking rapidly. Perhaps youâre more patient this time, because from behind, you hear another sharp hiss, and then a somewhat agitated, but endlessly turned on, âThe hell are you doing to me?â
âNothing,â you promise; the jest costs you all your energy, âwhat are you talking about?â
âYouâre so funny, arenât you?â
His words are accentuated by sudden grabs of your ass. One or two pinches. You shouldâve known. But despite his impatience, he never forces you down onto his cock. Lets you do.
âIâm not trying to be,â you argue, aligning yourself with him gradually. Preparing yourself mentally and physically. Leaking to no end. âYouâre just delusional.â
âMust be. Too good to be real.â
If you had it in you, youâd laugh. But the approaching sins and the image of his affected expressions fog your brain. Your body burns, your lower tummy tenses; your muscles feel heavy as you loom over him, and you only endure another moment.
Because soon enough, your thirst overpowers every other thought; the weight of your desire drags your body down, thankful that heâs keeping his cock upright. And then, just like that⊠so easily, no resistance detected, you slide down.
His tip splits you open first, eliciting an immediate sensation. New every freaking time; like the craze he fucks your mind into space with wipes your memory each time.
âHnnngh, this is justâŠâ
Whatever it is, thereâs no word yet invented for it. So you give up right away, squinting your eye shut until you see dots and forms, breath stuck in your throat. The lack of regular inhales muddles your mind, and you feel further heat rise to your cheeks.
âGoâ slow,â he pants behind you.
Of course heâs not all the way in yet. No matter how much it feels like it; you could keep going and going. Hard and monstrous, burying inside you, no end in sight.
The filling feeling catches you off guard each time; the way he leaves no room inside, causing butterflies in your stomach, wandering straight to your pussy. A ridiculously perfect phenomenon, like a key to its lock.
God. Youâre overspilling.
As soon as heâs bottomed out, you relish the feeling of his skin against your ass for a moment, registering how his fingers sneak to your flesh slowly. And then, you angle your body forward, clutching the sheets before you start moving.
You keep your pace slow. Put all your intention on delicate motions, all the way up with a whimper, and then slamming back down with a gasp. The farther you go, the wetter you get. Until youâve probably left a shimmering liquid all over his cock, gliding too damn easily.
âThatâs⊠thatâs new,â Jungkook mutters. At least thatâs what you think you hear. âGotta do it again.â
And youâre not even done with this time. But you understand â oh, you fucking understand. Thereâs something about not yet seeing his face but imagining all of it. How fucked out he must look. How red the apples of his cheeks must be. How sweaty his hairline is.
You grip the sheets tighter, legs closer to his, head between your shoulders. All you manage between the heavy breathing is a high-pitched, âJungkookââ
âYes. Yeah, baby. This isâŠâ
âI know. I know, keep talking.â
Which is an unfair command. He can think as much as you; you can barely comprehend letters, even less put them into actual words. But somehow, he still mutters whatever nonsense he can think of.
âGotta do it again,â he repeats as you fasten your pace.
âWhy always play such an angel, huh?â he asks as you moan and whine.
âWhen youâre a⊠a fucking demon. Literally,â he declares when you blow out breaths, letting out a crying sound.
He feels glorious inside you. Solid and gorgeous. He holds your ass cheeks in a tight grip, the strength nearly bruising when you let a hand wander back between your legs, grazing his firm balls.
When you turn around to check briefly, slowing your motions, he looks up, meets your eyes. Apparently, he wasnât gazing at you directly at all; and you imagine there wasnât much to see other than a bouncing mane anyway.
What heâs actually so distracted by must beâŠ
âHowâs it⊠it look?â you ask, circling your hips, feeling every vein, as predicted.
âIt looksâŠâ
Must be art.
Combined with his love for your ass, he must be enjoying the view; at least judging from the constant kneading and spreading. Allowing a direct, front-seat show of his cock appearing out of you, disappearing inside of you.
Glistening. Sucking him in. It mustâŠ
âLooks so fuckâing insane from where I sit.â
The swear word is interrupted by a millisecond, breathy as hell. Allows a glimpse into how delirious he might already be, possibly faring worse than you. Impatient, seeking more.
And you do know your Jeon Jungkook well.
Because not even another breath later, his body that slid down halfway, bolts up. You feel the shift clearly; it pulls you backwards along with him. Only, you realise the movement isnât the only source straightening you so fast.
First and foremost, itâs the freaking hand. Covered in letters and more ink, tugging at the dangling tie and following it up to the slowly unravelling knot before⊠abruptly snaking around your neck. Fingers right under your jaw, lifting your head.
He tugs you in until your back collides with his chest, and to your chagrin, you notice that neither of you has gotten rid of those stupid dress shirts. You wonât be able to wear them again without drifting to this memoryâŠ
Sleeve open, he wraps his arm around your body, just under your tits, and whispers, âWhy⊠drive me mad like this?â
âHâhuh?â
âSo far away. Werenât you ffffuââ The messy zero youâre drawing with your hips interrupts his string of thoughts, and he spends a second finding it again before he finishes, âWerenât you far away long enough?â
ShitâŠ
This isnât just an affair. This isnât temporary. Your brain still canât quite understand that youâve actually occupied this manâs heart.
That your gestures and touches arenât a fleeting dream, but blissfully real. That youâre his, and that heâs yours.
Heâs right. You were far away for too long.
So you sneak your arm back, around the back of his neck and pull him closer by his hair. His lips brush your cheek and then retreat to your ear. Nibbling for a moment. Kissing it.
You donât know what to focus on â on the way his teeth light up your nerves, or the way his hand moves down your shirt and bra, and up your body. Soon taking your tits captive, squeezing hard, pinching your nipples.
âMove a bit,â he orders, though you donât really have to.
His hand remains on your neck, so he pulls you forward; guess heâs sick of the shirt, too.
âYou too,â you murmur.
âYes. Patience, love.â
No. Fuck no.
Is it the nickname or his actions that empty your head this time? You donât know. But you react.
Moaning, but it soon transitions into a yelp when he jerks up suddenly, balls deep. Your voice breaks, and youâre breathless; grateful when he unbuttons your shirt, dragging it down your shoulders.
Helping him however you can, you pull at the clothing almost aggressively, over your hand until itâs stuck there. Sporting a shirt paw, you hear Jungkook laugh behind you, peppering more kisses to your shoulder as he says, âAh⊠take it easy. Youâre with me tonight.â
One quick pause, and then, âYouâre always with me. No rush anymore, okay? Yeah, baby?â
He aids you out of the shirt and tie with tender pecks. Thoroughly affected when you only nod so softly, eyebrows kissing. He unclasps your bra swiftly, breathing against your neck as he bares your body once and for all, putting the garment aside.
And then his forefinger moves along your neck again, only barely touching over your vocal cords; feeling your gulp before he journeys further down, back to your tits. Probably leaving scars; his nails are reckless today.
âWanted to see those pretty tits so bad,â he says, though he doesnât halt here â tiptoes south to your pelvis, and then to your clit. âBeen thinking about this all day.â
Really?Â
So each of these touches consume his thoughts every damn moment of the day, too?
âYou wanna see them⊠properly?â you wonder. You havenât moved in a bit, lost in him, mentally tracing the lines he draws on your body. ââCause I wanna see you.â
âMmmmhm. Doesnât sound too bad.â
âThen IâllâŠâ
You donât speak further; busy with your further advances. Your pussy feels lonely the moment you let him slip out. Youâre terribly wobbly on your knees, your thighs visibly shaking as you turn around.
Jungkook holds a hand towards you, a safety net in case you tip over. He holds your wrist gently as you move over the mattress; never more than now are you glad that his isnât as soft as yours back at the house.
Keeping your balance, you straddle him again, back in a similar position, albeit finally facing him now. And your eyes roll back just the moment he fills you up again.
Your legs are exhausted; the moment you start moving, you barely make it far enough, and Jungkook notices immediately, whispering, âMy baby tired?â
And when you nod, he holds you tight, wrapping you in his arms, andâ
âHoldâ hold onto me, okay?â
You do. And then â he thrusts up once.
When your head falls, his eyelids drop a little, nose touching your jaw as he says, âI could fuck you all goddamn day.â
âDo it⊠you can now.â His head descends to your chest, mouth open. Youâre not sure what youâre opting for, but you still call his name, âKookâŠâ
Repeatedly lunging in, he collects the words he needs to say, so irresistibly frenzied when he vows, âIâm yours. Okay? And⊠I need you to stay. Am yours, baby.â
Out of nowhere â or maybe not. Maybe these very sentiments were swimming in his eyes all the time; you could just not see them yet.
Lips a hair width apart, you opt for one single kiss, only a ghost touch. You tell him, âPromised the world. Will promise it to you⊠too.â
âGood.â His nails scrape your back, and you tug at his hair. A moan tumbles out of him, transforming into words as he holds your body in place, pumping into you, âFuck, youâ feel so good. Just you. So, so good.â
âNgh, Iââ
âI know, I can⊠canât breathe, either.â
He kisses your shoulder, the skin flaming under his mouth. Although late, you imitate his prior gesture, peeling off his intruding shirt as smoothly and fast as you possibly can. Itâs been a wall between you for too long now; you need to see those pretty tits, too.
And once the buttons open and the shirt flies, you finally bask in the toned beauty. Soaked chest, brawny, chocolate chip nipples as hard as yours. Soon pressing into you, lips thirsting for you, slamming against your mouth.
The fever rises, the temperature akin to lava. Your sounds are desperate and wanting, and you hold onto him for dear life. And before you know it, youâre not claiming your throne anymore.
Suddenly, you find yourself floating for a moment, and then sinking into the mattress, and then curling your hands into fists and him slamming into you harder, deeper, all the way in...
Fuck.
Towering over you, he spreads your legs wide, temptingly licking his thumb before it presses down onto your swollen clit. One jab. A second. Another and another and another.
âYes. Yes, pleaseââ you beg and yell, letting him pound you into oblivion.
The first hint of stars already grace the darkness behind your eyelids, but then Jungkook starts delivering rapid, light slaps to your nub. Heâs chasing your high as much as you are; you know. The chaos unfolding doesnât hold him back from observing your reactions.
Only focusing on his own end of pleasure when youâre done.
Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, and you cling to his arms, his hands pushing into your waist. And it takes just a moment longer. And another second. Several more shoves, the curve of his cock dragging along your walls and your sensitive spot.
Thoroughly drenched, both of you, as he drives all of him into you. Parting your legs whenever they attempt to shut again. And the universe finally expands, a million celestial bodies dying and imploding, much like you andâŠ
Suddenly, youâre off the cliff.
Falling into a deep ocean. Or the vast night sky. You donât know â you donât feel real.
All you know is that your thighs and ass are wet. That you ruined yet another sheet. That Jungkook is out of breath, fucking you through your high, ensuring that you come back to him only bit by bit, so, so slowly.
Gentler now, you feel his body subside, down to you. His skin is glowing with sweat when your eyes crack open just a slit, though they instantly drop close again when he kisses you once more.
He does it only softly this time, as if heâs trying it out. Gauging your reaction. And you do reciprocate the touch, even if weakly. Youâre still too gone to look at him properly, but that doesnât deter him from casting another spell in your heart.
Because his words reach every fibre of you. Butterflies swarm your stomach as he says, âI still can't believe that youâre staying. You did this⊠you fucking did thisââ
âWhy not? Whâwhy canât you believe it?â
âBecause youâre staying with me. You stayed with me. AndâŠâ
Somewhere, it stings. That heâs surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving⊠by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.
Thatâs a pain the two of you share.
He stares through your gaze, as if heâs frisking for something specific. With each passing moment, itâs like heâs realising something new, yet unable to really verbalise it.
Like somethingâs burning on his tongue.
But all he does whisper is, âHow do I ever stay away from you now, huh?â
âDonât.â You touch his face, and he doesnât waste a second to lean into your touch, kissing your palm. âPlease just donât.â
âWonât be able to⊠And it sucks thatââ
He frees your face from your stick hair strands, still moving inside you. His own tresses hang into your forehead; his thumb touches your lower lip.
âThat I canât be with you every damn second of the day. I meanâŠâ He leans in. Pecks your eyelids; your heart bursts. âWhat if I canât move an inch from you?â
You keep staring. Unable to answer. Keep looking and drinking in every emotion laid bare in his confessions. Your misty mind feels calm; not as heavy as hours ago.
And youâre woozy; so indescribably giddy when he adds, âYou⊠you mean so much to me.â
Damn. Damndamndamn.
And youâre fucking obsessed with him. Want his kiss on you all the time; words tattooed on your brain, etched into your soul.
âJungkook.â
âHuhâ yeah?â
âCan youâŠâ You gulp, drooling at the thought, and then spitting it out at once, âFinish in my mouth.â
âShit,â he exclaims, though the word is more a maniac laugh than anything else, âyou know exactly youâ you canât say this to me.â
You know. Because any image of his cock ramming your throat empties his head.
Once more, he mumbles, âDamn it,â before heâs picking up on pace. You move your hands over his broad shoulders, soon curling your fingers in to hold tight â itâs what the situation suddenly requires. Because gradually, his hips slam into you faster.
The dull sound of his thighs meeting yours repeatedly is lewd, volume increasing when he starts jackhammering into you. Your rhythmic, breathless cries become irregular and broken, turning into screams, and you feel a droplet escaping the corner of your eye.
Throat dry and jaw aching from the parted mouth, you keen from the sensitive feeling inside. Youâre so full. So invigorated. Holding onto him tight, so you donât crumble.
And just as you yell out a dozen curses, Jungkook, voice raised, states, âFuck, fuuuck, gonna come, babe, fâ open your mouthââ
You do. Instantly, tongue out, choking because itâs so much harder to breathe like that. Jungkook trembles over you, lips wet; his arms threaten to give out, letting his body nearly collapse on you, but just a moment before he does, he pulls out.
Hurrying, his knees dig closer to you, cock and ass right above your face as he holds the length between strong fingers. Secured in his palm, he strokes himself over you, glancing into your hungry eyes.
âPretty girl,â his other digits raise your head by your chin, and his body is swinging, unstable; shoulders high. âMy sweet baby⊠You canât justâŠâ
Pinching your chin fondly, he digs his cock into your mouth, still pumping the base and touching his balls. You raise your head to not suffocate in the process, and he lets your chin go to grip your hair, lifting you halfway just in time beforeâ
His load finally spills. All of it. So much of it. Hot and sticky, thick as the ropes shoot straight into your throat. You nearly gag, keeping yourself together, swallowing diligently as he empties his balls.
Thereâs fucking buckets of it, shitâŠ
You close your eyes, focusing on breathing, and once heâs done, you close your lips around his cock. Still hard, although slowly softening, you lick the remnants of his arousal and whateverâs left of you. The tastes mingle, and your head spinsâŠ
And then, he pulls back. Youâre beaten, gulping, smacking away the saltiness.
Still overwhelmed from the taste, you let your head fall back onto the pillow; but your fingers still seek his touch. The mattress next to you flattens again as his knees retract, and soon enough, laying down beside you.
Both of you are too done in to speak, even less to move. So you let a few minutes pass. Then, you find his fingers, entangling them with yours; waiting a bit more.
And only when your heart rate calms a bit, you stir, hearing him suggest, âQuick shower?â
You smile. The kisses arenât over yet.
For a while longer, the profuse heat lingers.
The radiator is off, and some of the windows were open when you came home. And despite choosing to stay bare after the shower for some more, you donât register any of the cold yet; youâre sheltered, safe and so, so warm.
Jungkookâs fingers keep trailing up and down way after youâre done, lips planting generous kisses to your scalp and face. He paves his way to the corner of your mouth and then up to your eyebrows; and when he reaches your nose again, you lift your head abruptly.
Chasing his kiss, even if for just a second, a hand on his cheek and shoulders rising. Occasional giggles and smiles, tickles and pinches keep you busy temporarily; you donât know how much time passes, nor do you care.
You only snap out of your daydreams when his kisses gain on urgency, tongue diligent. A palm creeps dangerously close to your ass, threatening to slink to your beaten sex.
But your reaction is quicker than his sly attempt, and you say, âWaitâ no. Canât do it again.â
âI wasnât going to.â
âOf course.â Damn his shoulder shrug. You tap his pelvis before you wrap a leg around his waist, teasing, âI didnât feel the twitch at all.â
He shakes his head. âNo, you didnât. But itâs not my fault that youâre so stubbornly sexy.â
âStubboââ You giggle mid-sentence, imitating the shake of his head. âI hope you know Iâd let you tie me down and do whatever the fuckââ
âMy god. Stop saying it like that.â
ââbut my body wonât let me yet. I also still stink.â
âStink?â He shifts dramatically, burying his nose between your tits. His voice is muffled when he asks, âDo you?â
âStop. Youâre so weird,â you scold, but the word is drenched in laughter; you forcefully lift his head again. âWe still need to change the sheets and the shower was quick. Do I not?â
âYou kinda do. Like cherry blossoms.â
âShut up.â
âWhat? Sue me for telling the truth. My girlfriend smells like cherry blossoms.â
Oh⊠oh?
Wait.
Your mouth shuts tight.
Did heâŠ
The beam that spreads on your face is almost embarrassing; surprise, joy and affection conjoin, your guts twisting. You take a breath. Feel the sparkles in your own damn eyes; tender gaze directed at him.
And the freaking flutter in your heart; the temperature in your cheeks. Do these things ever stop?
The words sink in slowly; and Jungkook takes the time to ask, âWhat?â
âYou⊠you havenât called me that yet, have you?â
Heâs perplexed. Guess even to him, it was a Freudian slip, because his eyes are wider than ever. He waits, thinks for a moment; then admits, âUhm. No. I donât think so.â
âWell, I⊠like the sound of it.â
âItâs⊠itâs true. Youâre my girlfriend, arenât you?â His eyes smile before he does; unrestrained devotion in them. âMy baby?â
He says it so innocently, so sweetly that you canât help but coo. Teasingly, you pat his cheek, telling him, âI mean I hope I am. Considering Iâm moving in with you.â
âYes. You are. Of course you are.âÂ
ââŠGirlfriend.â Sheepishly, much like a teenage girl, you keep your twinkle intact, still feeling the lasting gleam on your face. You must be reminiscent of the sun and the moon. Emboldened, you start, âThen⊠boyfriend. Can I ask you something?â
The term elicits similar glee in him, teeth out, grin bright. He waits wordlessly with sparkling eyes, and you touch his lip, asking, âHow do you feel right now? About all that?â
âI feel⊠Iâm in disbelief. Youâre moving in with me and just. Somehow, even saying it feels surreal.â He sighs, searching for words. âIâm in disbelief and crazy for you. Thatâs all I know.â
Falling deeper and without an end is possible. Jungkook has taught you that; still does.
ââŠI was so scared you wouldnât like me doing this,â you confess.
âWhat? Saying yes to being with me all the time? Sounds horrible.â He laughs. âIâm happy. And Iâm happy that youâre happy, too. Okay?â
âI wasnât for a while, you know? You make me feel good. Take me by my word and give yourself credit for it.â He needs to. He might have doubted his role in everyone elseâs life so far, but his value to you needs to be clear at all times. âNot just now, Kook, but, you always make me feel good. I hope you know that.â
âI do. This time, I doâŠâ Content, you smile; until he stalls for dramatic effect, mouth open to indicate something to come. Your beam expands to exhilarated laughter when he squeezes your ass again, adding with another snicker, âWhat kind of boyfriend would I be if I didnât make my favourite munchkin feel good?â
ââŠThereâs more than one?!â
HmmâŠ
Thatâs what youâd been yearning for all this time.
Because thereâs something so vulnerable about your elation; the enlivened titter. About your newfound feelings. About these very first phases of a sensitive relationship. Something serene.
And the meaning behind your words keeps changing with him; carries much more weight, and makes you feel so much lighter. As if levitating on cotton clouds.
Girlfriend. Boyfriend.
Peace reigns supreme and for a while youâre hopeful enough to doubt anything could disrupt it. Even the world is quiet when you look out the window.
September isnât yet harsh enough to cover all above pitch black, but itâs still dark grey and drab. The sky still somewhat illuminates the unruffled room through the tilted window.
But just when tranquillity reaches its peak, your phone vibrates on the bedside table; you flinch.
The screenâs shine overshadows the faded monochrome of the world. Itâs unwelcome, intruding â and once you lean over, holding the blanket over your chest, you realise that the message is just as unsought.
Mom [7:12PM]: We need to talk.
Mom [7:12PM]: Iâm still at Charmante for another hour and a half.
âŠAt this time?
Did you leave her this desperate?
âWhat is it?â a dulcet voice asks from behind.
You hear the bed creak a little, his body cold without yours. Despising the distance, he puts a gentle hand to your shoulder, planting a kiss right next to it; when you lack his desired reaction, he asks again, âEverything okay?â
âHm?â You barely tilt your head, eyes still glued to the words that youâve already internalised. You cover his hand with yours. âYeah. Just. Look.â
You hold the phone into his face; the penetrant white floodlights his skin. The warm gold shines in the glow, his lips drier than before. They move as he reads, and then, they close, giving way to a hum.
The initial silence suggests that he might be thinking the same as you â to bail. To shut the phone again, slide it to the edge of the bedside table and drop back against his chest, above his heart.
But you should know Jungkook better; he wonât discourage a familial reunion, praying for a better outcome than he ever had. Heâs always spoken for your relationship with them â thinking back, he has never truly badmouthed your mother.
So youâre not too surprised when he hands you the phone back, careful to not turn your motherâs two marks blue, and suggests, âMaybe you should go.â
You sigh. You donât want to. Itâs too early for confrontation; time hasnât passed, and the issue hasnât yet marinated. Then again, the problem might only grow if you postpone this.
But your heart is biased, angry, refusing to oblige to her demands one more time. So you ask for yet another confirmation, âRight now? But IâŠâ
You turn back to him, shaking your head slowly, troubled. He props his head up, eyes staring down to you as you lay flat on your back, hands folded under your breasts.
âGive yourself closure, babe.â
âI got closure.â
âNo,â he strikes back, fingers lifting to your jawline. He touches it lightly, brushing it delicately, âActual closure. To finish this. And she deserves it, too, you know? Sheâs still waiting there, angel.â
âJungkook, youâŠâ You click your tongue, gaze swerving to the unlit ceiling light and then back to him. âYouâre too good.â
âIâm sorry.â
You smile, and he throws a palpitation-inducing twinkle back. You know heâs right â it must have been a shock for her after all. More or less double-crossed by her own daughter, humiliated in a public setting â her brain must be frying.
Reluctantly, you stretch your arm to the side, tapping for your phone, and roll your eyes at Jungkook playfully when you open the message to type back. His body floats down, lips planting a barely-there kiss to your collarbone.
You [7:14PM]: Iâll be there in half an hour.
âAlright thenâŠâ
Your body lifts off the mattress with the idlest of movements. The afterglow might die once youâre there, but you guess you need the confrontationâfight? Argument?âto ensure more, blissful nights.
This time, you donât bother with your clothing as much as you did when you prepared for the press conference. You slip into the first best jeans you find, throwing a cosy pullover over your torso.
Busy with the rush, you donât notice that Jungkook isnât standing behind you in his usual grey joggers but in jeans, too. Heâs fiddling with your car keys, stuffing his wallet into a pocket, and you stare wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.
And once your digging stare pierces through him, he reciprocates it with similar confusion, half his hand still in the pocket as he inquires, âWhat?â
âWhat are you doing?â you ask, gesturing up and down his body.
âWhat do you mean?â
The back and forth of questions leaves you further bewildered, and you step closer, softly snatching the keys out of his fingers as you say, âBabe⊠It wonât take long.â
You donât think he quite understands â it seems that to him, it was a given this entire time that heâd accompany you to your work building. But when it seeps through, his expression changes, more relaxed.
His head tilts, blinking slowly as he assures, âI wonât let you go alone.â
âKookââ
âItâs honestly not a big deal. You said it wonât take long, so Iâll wait outside.â He shrugs, forefinger at the nape of his neck, scratching. âPlus, Iâll just get bored here alone.â
A warm flutter engulfs your heart. You wonder how couples spend days, months, years together without burning up every moment during their togetherness. Because you donât think youâll ever get over the fire he sets ablaze in your lungs â how does one get accustomed to affection like this?
You donât know.
Maybe you donât need to know.
Not more than what his eyes say, at least.
âWhat did you do all the time I wasnât here?â
His grin is playful, but thereâs tender truth in his words, âSomething any guy waiting for you would do,â big brown irides meet yours, fingers fiddling, âcounted the seconds until I could see you again.â
Your laugh is sudden before you ask, âIs that a quote from SpongeBob?â
And the joy holds on as you leave the apartment and rush down the flight of stairs. The short comedic journey to your car is distracting â most of reality only dawns on you when you step into the car.
Reminiscent of the last time the two of you drove over to a confrontation â just a little after his vacation; just a bit before the heartbreak.
The streets are quieter and emptier at this hour, the repose enhanced by the gentle drizzle. Itâs significantly darker than when you arrived home, though it hasnât been too long since you drove this exact way in the opposite direction. Two hours?
Maybe itâs the cloudy, almost black sky, accompanied by the hushed sound of the rain thatâs amplifying your fears. Because the calming ambience from a minute ago worries you the closer you get â this once, youâd rather bask in sunshine and daydreams.
But no.
Hope is on your side; youâre done worrying, right?
As you sit up straight in your seat, Jungkook glances from you from the driverâs seat, eyes shooting to and fro between you and the street. His lips part as he operates the wheel with one hand, using the other to wrap around your fingers.
âDonât be nervous,â he says, squeezing once before he lets go, brushing over the back of your hand and gripping the wheel again, âthereâs just so much she can say. You made a decision as a full adult and sheâll have to accept it.â
âYeah.â You follow the streetlamps and their warm radiance, redirecting your focus on the next as you pass each. âI hope so.â
The ride home was different; you were filled to the brim with energy and adrenaline. Your legs were putty, so he insisted for you to freeze on the passengerâs seat, reluctant to hand you the keys to drive.
You were waiting for the streets to end, to shut his door behind you, and to breathe and sigh through a sleepless night with him. The anticipation, combined with the aftermath of the press conference made you restless â you wouldnât stop gnawing on your thumb.
And he didnât interrupt your thoughts, let you flick through them until he finally looked at you at a traffic light. Raising the back of his digits to your cheek, assuring, âItâs okay, angel.â
Maybe the breathy tone and the hundred promises wrapped into one reassurance prompted your reaction at his place at all.
Jungkook turns into your work street, and you hold your breath. Your heart knocks violently against your ribcage, disabling a proper thread of thoughts. Which is a shame, because you really wanted to draw a collection of snappy remarks you could retort in there.
Instead, you merely look at the entrance far at the end of the street, unmoving as Jungkook moves into a parking lot and kills the engine. You blink; then blink some more. The gulp, you think, is audible in the small space of the car.
âDo you want me to come with you?â he asks.
âNo⊠I donât think sheâd want that.â
âOkay,â he murmurs, leaning forward to pinch your chin between two fingers. He moves your head toward him, eyes a liquid, wavy ocean at night. Affectionate. âSheâs your mom. Despite everything, I know she loves you.â
âI donât knowâŠâ
âShe does. I saw it the night I picked you up and I saw it Monday morning, too. So.â The head tilt, the soft curve of his eyebrows, the care in his pupils â theyâre a healing bandage around your heart. âDonât be scared.â
He leans over the centre console armrest, still holding your face in his grasp, and presses his lips just barely, sweetly to your wrinkled forehead. You think the muscles react immediately, temples relaxing.
For a second, he lingers, and then he pulls back a fraction, looking at you from an inch-wide distance, and whispers, âDonât be. Iâll be here all the time.â
Right â armour-clad, like a knight. You finally nod, a weight dropping off your heart. You cement his smile deeper into your mind; a coping strategy in case things escalate in there.
Once more, you squint at the entrance doors, though barely visible from here. Hand on the handle, you say, âIf Iâm not out in twenty minutes, call the police.â
Jungkook tsks, eyes rolling with badly hidden amusement, ordering, âJust go. Will be here.â
Yes. Breathe.
Heâll be right here when you come back. And itâll all be over then.
The building feels sinister, empty like this. Nothing of the busy and lively mood remains; the lack of the chatter and footsteps drenches the entrance hall in gloom.
It reminds you of horror movie locations; you canât help but hesitate as you walk in.
Especially today, the silence is unbearably odd; the press isnât lurking anymore, isnât swarming you anymore. You donât want to imagine how hard it mustâve been to convince the reporters to finally leave.
You sighâŠ
In less than a day, theyâll have todayâs highlights printed in newspapers and posted; feasting. Big, bold headlines will narrate the words you uttered; of course they will. With your family relishing a local celebrity status, the media would be damned if it didnât make any profit out of you.
For the first time, however⊠you donât care. You inhale.
And as you walk past the glass walls and up the stairs, clutching your work keys, you donât feel the overwhelming urge to run away from this place anymore.
Youâve liked your job since you started, no doubt, despite your initial worries and fears. But the thought of losing against the world, or of losing him terrified you. Maybe you were too naive to fight those who wished you harm mere months ago, freshly out of college.
But now that you realise that you wonât be roaming these hallways in a couple weeks, that you have dropped the mic in a way they wonât be able to pick it up to hurt you again, you feel relieved.Â
Feel a sense of responsibility. Like an adult.
Okay.
She told you sheâd wait in an unoccupied office on the first floor â you usually frequent it with Zara, sifting through theories and changes. You wonder why your mother didnât settle on her own office â then again, you imagine it must hurt to suffer defeat in the very room where sheâs supposed to reign.
As you reach the room, your fist lifts to the door. Though you soon realise that it might be entirely unnecessary, judging the slight gap and the soft noise from within. So you gently push the ajar door open, met with a tired figure behind an imposing desk.
Sheâs lost in thought, but as you enter, her gaze slowly ascends, her posture reclining. And you see it immediately.
The usually cold eyes, now brimming with disappointment and sorrow.
Her eyes flit, as you assume unintentionally, into a corner. She dodges a simple greeting when you mumble a timid, âHi,â and you drop the formalities right away. Donât even attempt to sit â stand there, towering in front of her, not intending to stay long anyway.
And it seems her thoughts and intentions align, because she refuses to beat around the bush, a weary voice asking, âWhy did you do that?â
âMmh⊠Youâre asking like I shouldnât have.â
âBecause you shouldnât have.â Typical. Her point of view will always be her only truth. You listen on, but canât help but tense. âYour father and I built this for you, and we intended to forward it to you. You know that.â
You donât like that tone; you never have. It always ran over your spine as a shiver, weakening your knees. Even today, youâre conditioned to buckle just a bit. You exhale.
âMom, have you ever heard yourself speak? Youâve never even remotely tried giving me anything else that way,â you complain, leaning to clutch the chair with one hand, the other gesturing around the room. âYou built this stupid empire for yourself and kept it intact for me, so I can continue your work.â
You huff out a mocking breath, shaking your head just a little. âYou never even asked me. You just told me to do it all.â
Her voice is sharper when she responds, âWe didnât hand it to you to make you suffer, for godâs sake.â Sheâs irritated, eyebrows deeply furrowed. âChrist, you were supposed to have a good future.â
âYes, and I will! Iâm happier than I have been all summer. Do you even have any idea what happened during that time?!â
You pause. She doesnât answer, clearly sorting out a hundred answers.
Because a lot happened â most of it a direct effect of her or the mediaâs bullshit. Of course she wonât be able to pick out just one single thing.
So you explain, âDid you even understand that Jungkook broke up with me because of the thing you pulled with that dumb journalist?â You spit the word like a curse, grimacing. âAnd that he avoided me because he thought he was ruining me?â
You try to make it sound as ridiculous as you can muster, wondering if the realisation is dawning on her.Â
âDid you even notice how I didnât come out of my room for daââ
âJust why,â she interrupts, eyes shutting tight in disbelief and agitation, palms toward the ceiling, âwould you jeopardise your life and emotions because of him?â
Jeopardise. Holy fuck.
She has a whack understanding of villainhood.
âBecause heâs important to me! You canât even imagine how hurtful it is to only be talking about work to you. You never ask me if I eat or sleep enough. You didnât even give me a graduation present. He did! But you wouldnât know!â
You think back to the lamp in your room, the one she has never seen â remember the dark ceiling, the aurora and stars projected to it. The touches that followed.
âHeâs unbelievably important to me, Mom. Okay?â
âYouâve been with him for just a while.â
You grit your teeth. Itâs like talking to a wall; a daycare child would catch the sentiment better than her.
âYeah,â you say, scoffing, âand it makes me embarrassed for you, because Iâve known you my entire life and you never cared this much. Like, fuck, even Dad did.â
Her jaw clenches as you swear, nostrils close to flaring as you concede more pain, âJungkook actually makes me feel human.â Thereâs a sting in your eyes. You blink it away. âIâve been feeling like a person, which just⊠made me understand thatââ
You gulp, your throat tied and your head heavier now. You wait, shrugging. Thenâ
âThat I can receive affection, too.â
Your friends are your first memory of care; barring them, you only had a faint idea of what devotion entailed. Learning what it means to be genuinely important to someone had been on your bucket list â this year, you ticked it off.
âI just hate that he had to glue me together first for me to understand.â
Because she broke you first. The contrast couldnât be more crystal clear.
She doesnât dig your monologue. Her countenance fills with different shades of ridicule and embarrassment, shreds of anger thrown into the mix. Filed nails tap against an open folder, the other hand rubbing her forehead.
âYou sound ridiculous,â she derides, âyou canât throw your future away because of love. It wonât pay your bills.â
âIâm gonna be a manager, though. Iâll pay my fucking bills. And Jungkook is working his way up, too.â Your latter statement gains a sceptical stare, followed by a skyrocketing eyebrow. It satisfies you. âHe is. Heâs getting his own part at an exhibition. Weâll be fine.â
She frowns, mouth already agape as she psyches herself up for another answer, and you already roll your eyes, prepared to interrupt.
âYouââ
âYou were so grateful last weekend,â you argue.
âBecause you almost killed yourself!â
âNo! If youâre so worried, then call! You couldâve called and asked where I was like mothers do. Made sure I was well and not drunk out of my mind!â
âStop it,â she stands, her voice as damaging as a serrated knife. You flinch as she charges for you, and you breathe out, ready for a slap â but her body halts in front of yours. âHow do you expect to run from this just by switching to another company? Novauraâs still mine, too.â
NoâŠ
You hold your breath. Straighten your back, hands sweaty as your nails dig in. Sheâs been predictable half her life; not always quite vile. But you know what sheâll say next, and you know itâll be the most odious thing sheâs ever uttered.
âAnd I could keep you here if I wanted to. Theyâd throw you out if I told them, too.â
Your eyebrows shoot up, and you blink, scorning, âYouâre serious?â
A breath of laughter escapes your chest, and you shake your head in disbelief. Youâre done.
You press your lips into a thin line before smacking them, nodding in faux agreement before you say, âOkay. Go ahead. But if you do, I wonât shut up this time. Today, I was being nice. I praised you, and none of my nice talk was actually deserved.â
Choosing your words carefully, you pronounce every syllable as if explaining molecular biology. She listens, not spitting an answer immediately.
So you challenge further, âYou want to throw me out? Do it. Itâs your reputation. I didnât say anything wrong at the conference today, because itâs my right to choose the career I want. Youâd be abandoning your own daughter if you pulled this through.â
You have her attention. Her lips stay sealed.
âAnd when they ask me,â you continue, eyes now fiery; youâre so done. So, so done. âI will let them know that you did it out of spite. Try finding an excuse why you did when weâre there. I wonât be at any disadvantage.â
You press into your palms one more time, relaxing your jaw, and opt to turn and walk away. Hurling one more glare towards her, you spit, âI have a degree, just a reminder.â
And that should be it.
Pride unfurls across your chest, warm in your stomach as you take long strides out of her office. You hear the quiet call of your name, suddenly desperate. But now that youâve said your part of the truth, you donât turn around anymore.
Only shut the door behind you hard; shutting all sheâd hoped for with it.
Despite the satisfaction still bubbling in your stomach, you canât shake the clump in your throat and the anxiety in your heart. The post-fight adrenaline pumps through your veins, and your fingers shake.
Thereâs discomfort in deserting your own mother; the irrational fears were to be expected. You didnât do anything wrong, you know, you know. But your organ still thumps like drums, and you lift a hand to your chest. A vain attempt to calm your breathing.
And then⊠something miraculous happens.
The brisky gust of the evening brushes your cheeks; the bright lights of the city contribute to your sudden peace. Theyâre a reminder that the world is far wider than this damn building. Than her.
But more than anything, your worries dissipate when the strolling figure grows in your sight. As you walk the short distance to your car, you feel your heart lighten â your forehead and temples relax.
He has his hands on his waist, chin slightly raised as if watching the stars that hide in the city sky anyway. His steps are small, and his eyebrows calm. He looks serene.
And once his hands slide into his open jacketâs pockets, he looks down the street again, surprised when youâre mere steps apart.
âAh,â he voices, one palm already out as he stretches it toward you, âbarely fifteen minutes. I was about to come in.â
Deep sigh in, you let his arm pull you in his embrace, swiftly wrapped around your torso. He smells like fresh clothes, after-rain, and vibrant, like the lights in the sky.
Your arms sling around his body with an urgency, and you muffle your voice against his chest as you ask, âAlready?â
âAlready?â he repeats, though dragging the word more than you did. His arm squeezes you once as his other hand escapes his pocket, too, stroking your head. âThose werenât days? I swear I felt myself ageing in there.â
Your fist thumps against his chest lightly, and you giggle against his sweater. âDonât be so dramatic.â Eyes slowly unfocusing, you rub the zipper teeth of his jacket between your fingers, softly mumbling, âThank you for being here. Youâre the best.â
You feel a movement over your head; heâs lowering his chin to your hair, still caressing your head as if lulling you into sleep. And itâs working â you feel drowsier by the second.
But then, his chest rumbles as he hums, cautious as he asks, âAre you okay?â
Are you?
Youâre about to start a new life where you desire, with whom you desire. Finding permanent residency in his presence the way he finds it in your thoughts.
A few more steps, and you can make yourself home. Not in those rooms, but in him. Because thatâs what he is.
A blanket, a radiator, the comforting voice that soothes and heals. Worshipping you within the same four walls every single day.
Youâre not just okay â youâre craving.
Leaving his warmth and scent, you lean back and look at him. His eyes are as big as youâre used to, awaiting an answer, genuinely curious. Your heart threatens to burst; the sting is painfully sweet.
âYeah,â you answer, touching the purple sweater, âI promise I am.â
Because. Because thatâs all you ever wanted.
Itâs over. Youâre going home â you are home.
You canât remember whether it was your fingers clawing into Jungkookâs shirt or his hand brushing through your hair that kept you in the sheets twenty minutes longer than anticipated.
The plan was to snooze once and get into a routine with divided work. One prepares breakfast, the other makes the bed and cleans up before leaving the apartment.
But it seems that so far, your routine has consisted of lazy mornings. Tired hums. Quiet, hushed and slightly hoarse good mornings and entangled limbs.
You pressed between his shoulder blades as he strokes your head, planting kisses on your temple and your forehead.
âSlept well?â he asked today. Another peck in between. Then, drowsy and sighing, âIs the mattress okay, by the way? I like the firmer ones better since theyâre good for your back, but I know you had a softer one, so if you needâŠâ
âNo, not at all,â you promised, warm and safe under the covers. âThis is perfect.â
No⊠the softness wasnât needed. Your muscles were so relaxed, you were sinking into the bed anyway. Sleeping a dent into it. At peace as his nails gently scraped over your scalp, massaging and caressing.
He couldâve lulled you into sleep like that; and his voice served as soft, white background noise. The words he used. The honey sweet tone. The past tense in what you had, and what you have now.
If you hadnât been so lethargic, you wouldâve floated through your chores. But when the clock ticked too dangerously fast and brought your working hours sickeningly close, you decided to eat out instead.
You always fool around at breakfast too much â stretching it longer than it needs to be. A cafĂ© was, surprisingly, the smarter, more time-efficient option.
And a great opportunity and excuse to explore the places near you. Jungkook promised there was an amazing bakery nearby, and you trudged along, tummy rumbling, now that you werenât in bed with him and satiated anymore.
âYouâre sure youâll be at home by the evening?â
You gather the remaining crumbs of your pastry with the pad of your thumb, waiting for Jungkook to slurp the last of his coffee. He nods, soon answering, âMhm. I wonât be at work for long. Might come home before you do, actually.â
âOkay,â you suckle at your thumb, shoulders relaxing as you stare at the drizzle outside. The day started out grey. âAnd then tomorrow, Iâll be off work by the afternoon, so I should be able to bring more things over from the house.â
Tired from the morning, your eyes remain on the customers trudging in and out of the cafĂ©. They shake the water drops off their umbrellas, or sigh at the prospect of stepping out into the rain again.Â
Their expressions arenât quite dispirited, but⊠perhaps a little dim.
You raise a side of your lips in empathy, and then continue, âAnd then on Saturday, Iâm getting the truck to the house, for the rest of my stuff.â
âBabe,â Jungkook interrupts, pausing to smack the coffeeâs taste away. His hand slides over the table, wrapping his fingers around three of yours. âLet me come with you tomorrow. Youâre already doing too much.â
âAbsolutely not. I wonât drag you there unless I absolutely have to. Besides,â your voice is soft when you lean forward, raising your entangled digits to your lower lip. âYouâve been busy plenty, too.â
And itâs true.
Heâs been taking care of the apartment and cooking dinner these days. Organising documents with you, so you have whatever needed to change your address and whatnot. Doing small purchases for the household and vacating some of the closet to make place for your stuff.
Two weeks have passed since the press conference â and Jungkook has been a pillar of strength and sanity as much as you have been his. You communicate each night, regulating finances, dividing roles and sharing comfort.
You donât think youâve ever witnessed or felt a relationship as symbiotic as this one⊠and youâre just starting out.
His thumb brushes over your fingers, still reassuring you, much as you expected, âI honestly donât mind.â
âItâs okay,â you argue, âwe still have a lot more to do. Save your energy for that. Iâd still love these deco vines for the living room, remember? Letâs get them together.â
Your words are breathy, as if youâre being reborn. A breeze of refreshment â and he feels it, too. Thereâs something about the thought of simplicity livening up your bustling days.
Mundane tasks, like shopping for casual things together.
Groceries. Decoration. Plants.
With all the planning of switching work and homes, the two of you have been incredibly breathless. You even told him about a meeting at your new place today, a discussion about trivial matters, general know-how and preparation you need to do.
The sliver of stress is visible in your eyes â youâll be seeing the other managers today. And youâre nervous about it, unsure what vibe the meeting might set.
But despite the stress, youâve been as bright as Venus in the night sky. He understands. If anyone does, then him.
Because the idea of strolling through Ikea's tableware department is balm to his mind. Your laughter sounding through its hallways, half your body leaning over the shopping cart, because you surely seem like the type to do so.
His voice is as gentle as the mizzle outside when he promises, âWeâll get anything you want.â
âReally?â Your smile is radiant, cheeks glowing as you press the lightest kiss to one of his knuckles. âSounds good to me.âÂ
Time passing has always been a bummer. Despite the quiet noise in the café, the clock ticks as if in a deafening volume, a reminder that you need to let this hand go soon.
Sometimes, you do worry. About the attachment, and the healthy obsession with him. And on the other side, about every moment he worships you, and every second he misses you.
How thereâs discomfort in being apart, even if for mere hours. Maybe thatâs why he holds you so tight at night. Or why youâre constantly itching to get home.
Perhaps thereâs a lingering fear that your time separated brought, a sneaking anxiety of being dragged apart again.
Yet, instead of dwelling in improbable what-ifs, you breathe in the air of the room, direct your senses away from the clock and toward the increasing patter of rain against the window panes.Â
You squeeze the fingers around you harder, delving into one last soft conversation as you ask, âYouâre at lunch with Joon later, right?â
âYeah, he promised me burgers today.â
âWhat for again?â
âBecause Iâm his favourite staff member?â Jungkook lifts your hand to your mouth when you open it, shushing you with your own fingers. âDonât say it. I am his favourite staff member.â
ââKay. Understandable.â
âYou knowâŠâ He shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly, but the soft drop of his gaze, fingers fiddling and toying with yours betrays him. Heâs still so delicate around you. âIf you want, you can join.â
âOh. Mmmh,â you think for a moment, but then click your tongue, insisting, âitâd be weird, I think. Dunno if heâd want it.â
âI would want it.â
He always does.
Yearning. Obsession. A humane way of falling in love.
You feel like a person. No matter how odd the phrase might sound in your head, the painful truth behind it is undeniable. You feel like a person.
âOkay,â you reply, slowly reclaiming your hand, reluctantly preparing to leave. âIâll see if I find time and energy during my lunch break.â You halt, unblinking, before you look back at him with squinting, uncertain eyes. âTotes Bag Street, was it?â
The sudden, choking laugh erupting out of Jungkook is a surprise. If his coffee cup wasnât empty yet, heâd still be sipping, probably ruining the white, silky shirt youâre sporting today.
You actually mean it, donât you?
His trademark laugh is high-pitched, melodious, though a little more controlled in the public space, but the flashing of his teeth and his dimples implies genuine joy.
You already know: the lighthearted banter has become a hallmark of your connection. Doesnât get old. Heartwarming â albeit right now, very confusing to you.
So you cock an eyebrow, questioning, âWhat?â
âBabe,â he simply mutters, hands coming together in a mock prayer. âShit, youâre so fucking cute.â
He lowers his head between his shoulders, torso shaking, and you pull his palms apart again to dig with another, âHey. What?â
âBoats Track Street. Not Totes Bag Street,â he corrects, endeared by your wide eyes. The back of two of his fingers grazes your temple, and then down your face, before playfully pinching your chin. âYouâre so cute. And a dummy. I mean it.â
âYouâre a dummy,â you reply, forcing your face back and out of his grip. âBesides, thatâs a pretty stupid name.â
âTo be fair⊠I agree.â
A hesitant smile spreading on your face, your gaze wanders to the clock at the opposite wall again. The beam drops a little, giving way to a small sigh.
âItâs okay. Iâll probably be busy anyway⊠will join you guys another time.â You shove the chair back, getting off with a fatigued groan and a hand rubbing your tummy. âAnd I feel a bit weird today, too. Shouldnât have eaten before bed because Iâm feeling the effects right now.â
âAhhh, I told you. No worries. Iâll make you something light tonight. And some peppermint tea.â His hands wave you goodbye, making a begone motion. âGo for now. The longer you stay, the worse the next hours will be for me.â
âDork. You must survive.â
You huff, eyes rolling at the dramatics, and push your bag behind your body before you lean into him. A hand on his cheek, you watch his eyes close, setting your lips onto his.
The two-second long goodbye peck remains just that before his fingers, pushing against the nape of your neck, tug you in again.
Against your lips, he mutters, âEat, okay? Call if your stomach bothers you. Anytime. And donât be nervous. Youâll have fun.â
And before you can answer, he kisses you again.
Once, and then twice more. Your guts somersault, even when he finally lets you go. Your lungs feel dry all of a sudden.
All you have left in you is to nod. For your wobbly legs to step away. Looking back a few more times until the door opens, the bell chiming, your transparent flower umbrella spreading over your head.
Jungkook watches as your careful steps wander away, your head never lowered like every other passerbyâs. Theyâre hiding from the rain, but youâre staring up, observing the movement of the clouds before your focus falls on the road â and a minute later, you disappear out of his sight.
His chest and muscles relax, a quiet laughter still tumbling out as he repeats, âTotes Bag Street.â
The sky may be colourless. The people might look into the world dimly.
But despite the rain tapping against the window, no inch of you is painted in a dismal, drab grey. Youâre the brilliant, gleaming sun.
The location of your new job isnât as fancy as the area around Charmante. The building certainly isnât made of reflecting glass throughout.
Thereâs wood and actual walls; not every door opens with a chip, but a key, and the luxuries are limited. Compared to your old building, this one is humble, but it still oozes wealth and success â guess thatâs what a subsidiary looks like.
The meeting room for today is somewhere on the third floor. Your mind races as you fix your clothes in the elevator, throwing regular glances into the mirror to guarantee that your hair sits as perfectly as three seconds prior.
You breathe deeply, exhale through a rounded mouth. Whether itâs this meeting or something you ate, your stomach does not feel great.
As the nerves start kicking in, you think of Jungkookâs hand in yours and the everlasting smile. You use him as your safe place; close your eyes for those few seconds that the elevator floats up.
And it works. Feels like an oasis, calm and lovely.
That is, until the bell pings, forcing your eyes open. You stare up at the number, nearly stepping out until you realise that â youâre not on the third, but on the second floor. Were you supposed to halt here?
No. And thereâs nobody outside, waiting.
Until, someone is.
Rushed steps move to the elevator, a nice but stressed voice urging, âAh! Keep the doors open, Iâm coming!â
Strange. Oddly familiar voice.
You canât say why, but you already prepare a polite smile, trying not to let the ticking seconds stress you out. Rationally, you know youâre not late, but the time passing messes with your nerves.
And it seems it doesnât get better when the figure finally rushes in, pressing the already lit number 3 before he says, âGood. Just in time.â Looks back at you, delighted as if he expected you somewhere around, and adds, âAh! Hello!
It takes a moment. Then another.
One more until you figure out who he is, why you feel like hurling and how maybe, just maybe, he might be heading to the same room as you â as another new manager of Novaura.
You blow a raspberry at the boxes in your backseat.Â
Deciding to at least take your favourite box up with you, you leave the rest here for now; you donât want to bug Jungkook yet. You can heave it all upstairs on the weekend, in peace.
Itâs only moderately heavy â but with both your hands busy, the task is a hassle. You secure it under your arm as you close the door of your vehicle with your hip, clutching the phone previously tucked between your cheek and shoulder.
You straighten your head, reflexively looking up to Jungkookâs apartment window. To your apartment window. Doesnât quite roll off the tongue just yet.
Somehow managing to open the entrance door, you sigh into the phone, giving Taehyung a relieved, âIâm finally back home.â
âMmmh,â Taehyung voices, and you imagine his full lips in a line, tiny nods serious, âhowâs it feel? Knowing that this is where youâre gonna be for the foreseeable future?â
âIt feels⊠quiet.â
âWhat, he bore you to death like that?â
You giggle, taking deep breaths as you ascend the staircase; though slightly irritated by the slowly and constantly slipping box. You heave it back up.
âAbsolutely. Youâve no idea, really.â
Taehyung laughs, but your joke doesnât stick for long. You feel bad immediately â even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess thatâs how kindness affects people.
And your brain stays mean, prolonging your pout â because it conjures pictures of a crooked smile, wrinkles around tender eyes, a tilted head as shoulders rise when the laughter reaches its peakâŠ
A sting jabs your chest.
The longing is unbearable, and youâre barely another level from the apartment. Heâs waiting for you on the other side of that flatâs door, and you know his pupils will widen in his dark brown eyes the moment they fall on you.
âNo, that feels horrible to say,â you correct, shaking your head. You pause in the middle of the staircase for a moment, gaze fixated on a dirty spot before you shake your head once more. âYou know Jungkook. If heâs not joy personified, then I donât know.â
And itâs true â despite his own demons, you donât think youâve ever seen anyone spread this much comfort.
âI just meant that my mindâs been quiet. And a lot more peaceful. Not a hundred worries whirling around anymore,â you tell him, your steps upward slower now.
âJust ninety-nine, huh?â
You smile. âMaybe. But heâs not one of them.â
Dull background noise interrupts your thoughts; Taehyung doesnât respond to you, but reprimands Yoongi in a distant mumble. Heâs been doing it since he called, covering his phone to argue with his friend.
Apparently, Yoongi had been with him for hours before you picked up Taehyungâs call; theyâve been settling the rest of the arrangements, scurrying through paperwork. The apartment you considered is entirely their adventure now, but you aided in anything they needed.
Which basically just meant clearing things with the landlord and then answering his new tenantâs million questions.Â
As in â how were you thinking of decorating it? Why were you going to take it? Did you calculate monthly costs including rent, water and gas? You didnât mind, because Yoongi might be one of the most polite people you have ever met.
But it seems heâs reluctant to return to his dormâs lonely walls, too.
Because Taehyung values alone-time, and Yoongi hasnât granted it for hours. You feel kinda bad for Yoongi. And while the younger man attempts his hardest to maintain the gentle tone, you hear the exhaustion in his voice.
âIâll drive you home after this, âkay?â he tells Yoongi; you snicker at the groan that returns. âYou got this, bro.â Attention back to you, a murmur of your name. âAnyway. Everything should be good now.â
âIâm glad. That was⊠quite something.â
A euphemism, really. The handful of visits werenât fun; not to mention the stuff you had to get over with for your own move. And then all those calls. You needed minutes upon minutes of preparation for each of them. One hell of a businesswoman, you are.
âNo, say it as it is. âCause it knocked me the fuck out. You guys really had to drag me into this.â
You feel guilty about making Taehyung your spokesman here; but as an already residing individual of the building, he was a great support in this matter.Â
âWeâ love you,â you tell him, inhaling deeply between your words. You rub the dirt off your soles on the welcoming mat and hold the box tight, not opening the door yet. âTell your forehead to feel kissed.â
âNah. Youâre gonna upset Eun.â
âWhy? Eun and I are more in love then the two of you might ever be. Sheâll choose my side.â
âHa. Fair. Whatever.â His voice doesnât carry an ounce of solemnity. Once again, you imagine him pulling a face, waving your statement off. âEnjoy your life. Your voice has been echo-y forever. Also, donât forget to talk to Jungkook about what we discussed.â
Ah⊠yeah. Thereâs more than just one thing you need to clear, actually.
âAye, aye, Captain,â you confirm, though arguing, âIâm surprised you havenât done it yet.â
âYou do it. I know heâll like hearing it from you better.â He pauses to answer his friend; you donât even know what he said. âOkay. Iâll go grappling with Yoongi then.â
âGood luck.â
âBuy me sushi.â
One last laugh before you cut the call.
The clicking sound of your keys turning in the lock is music to your ears and balm to your feet. You skip the threshold with a relieved release of air; the apartment smells like diffusers, so warm compared to the declining temperatures outside.
You donât hear a movement until you get to your knees, seating the box next to the shoe cabinet. As you start working on your jacket, you register a shuffle from the living room, but no voice â Jungkook said heâd be home before you. Perhaps heâs painting; or gaming.
A short text message during lunch assured him he could start dinner without you; deep down, however, you understood he wouldnât listen anyway. And the obvious lack of aromatic scents wafting from the living room proves it.
You donât enjoy eating alone â and he knows.
Clearing your throat, you announce your arrival, bent as you take your shoes off and rub your aching heels for a moment. You wish you could float. Offer them reprieve.
Stumbling in the anteroom, you wait for a greeting, but it seems he didnât hear or notice you. You lick your lips, standing straight, and then speak into the hallwayâ
âI swear I donât have a foot fetish,â a short pause â nothing, âbut can you massage my feet again today?â You wait. Not a word comes back. So you joke, âActually, just massage my whole body? I donât mind. Need some hands-on relaxation.â
Subjectively, you think youâre hilarious. You giggle on your way to the living room, cheerful despite the jam-packed day â but your laughter ebbs down soon. Because heâs standing in the middle of the room, lips pressed into a tiny smile, head lowered, hands in his pockets.
And right in front of him, a timid woman in a coat. Blinking at you.
Your eyes dodge her gaze immediately. Itâs an impolite reflex, heart pounding as you watch Jungkookâs hand lift to his forehead, hiding behind his bangs as he rubs. When he looks at you again, thereâs an equal amount of worry and amusement in his expression.
âShit,â you mumble, another mishap, and you continue cursing internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And then, âIâm sorry.â
She looks like him. Same sweet aura, short hair, big eyes.
Her right digits are wrapped around the fingers of her other hand, mouth shut tight, though smiling. She knows less what to say than you, and the moment stretches and stretches and does not end andâ
âHi,â you finally murmur, bowing slightly before you cringe. Too much? Not enough? You clear your throat again, and then introduce yourself quietly. âYou must be Mrs. Jeon. I⊠I didnât know youâd be here or I wouldâve come earlier! Iâm very sorry.â
Are you rambling?
How horrid. Youâd feel so uncomfortable if you were her.
Only, she barely showcases any sign of displeasure or irritation. Despite striking you as an introvert, her movements soon prove confidence â the type to know what sheâs saying or doing, but in a humble and gentle way.
She unfolds her fingers and lets them dangle, soon moving up to clutch the strap of her bag. Looking between Jungkook and you once, she raises her eyebrows and shakes her head, as if to promise that thereâs no reason for any tension.
You sigh when she speaks, âOh, itâs alright. I didnât stay long and I need to go in a minute anyway.â
âOh?â
âI was going to leave ages ago, but,â she points to her son with rolling eyes, and the man in question shrugs in faux guilt before she speaks on, âthat one wanted me to see you for at least a second. I wanted to meet you properly⊠prepare dinner and all, but. Itâs still nice to meet you.â
Her eyes are kind, taking you in; if you could guess, youâd say sheâs⊠excited. Urging to finally speak to her sonâs girlfriend.
She moves a teeny tiny bit, as if opting to offer her palm to you, or toâ maybe hug you? But maybe she realises the timing, or sees your terrified expression, because she holds back for now politely.
âI see. Itâs wonderful to meet you, too.â Incredible how you spoke about initiatives just this morning, rambling in the office until someone had to interrupt you for their own turn. Now, you canât get a word out. âBut, I⊠I am still sorry I barged in so rudely.â
She grimaces, moving closer to you with a waving motion, âYou didnât barge into your own apartment. Itâs all good.â
Jungkook doesnât interrupt much; doesnât interfere with his own jests and statements. They mirror each other so much, though. In the way they smile, and in the way they talk.
Even the manner in which she places her hand on your arm, reassuring you, delivers the same warmth. You tense for a moment, not quite expecting the touch; but itâs motherly. Soft.Â
A new emotion floods your heart, but you canât decode it. Too many thoughts streaming in, brain working overtime to come up with a full sentence without stuttering, without those dumb hesitation markers that your studies taught you to avoid.
And maybe youâve succeeded â only, the clump in your throat, accompanied by a strange twist in your stomach builds a barrier now.
Her touch feels⊠good.
âDo you⊠would you like to sit?â you ask, voice softer by an infinite amount. âI have a variety of tea here, and you could choose one. If youâŠâ
You want to talk. About whatever. Not the slip occurring a couple minutes ago; maybe you just finally want to know who made Jungkook the man he is today. It wasnât necessarily his father, was he?
Somewhere, this incessant, constant comfort derived from. But.
âIâd like nothing more than that,â she admits, âbut I have massage therapy in a bit, and should get going. An adultâs back.â You laugh, and she gestures towards you with an open palm. âOh, donât you work in an office? Take care of yourself, too.â
âNot just an office, Mom,â Jungkook interrupts, inching closer until next to you and rubbing your back, proud, âsheâs a manager. She walks around a lot, so the problem are,â he nods toward your feet, âthese.â
True. Just today alone, your heels made it feel like you ran a marathon. Learning about each corner and wandering around that building drained you.
âAh⊠I thought so,â she says.
You blink in faint confusion until you realise. Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, brief but telling, and his mother smiles in awkward amusement. Hell.
Your blood shoots back into your face, warming it thoroughly, and just before you can opt for another apology, she says, âYou have him to take care of you. Make him spoil you! You do, donât you?â
Her voice changes the moment she faces her son, a little strict but all in good fun; her eyes squint and he exclaims, âI do!â the moment you defend, âOh, he does! He definitely does.â
She seems to like this. Thereâs a sparkle in her eyes, similar to the one you already know; perhaps sheâs just as endeared as mothersâusually?âget, realising their children are happy and settling.
âWe take care of each other,â you tell her then, and she responds with a content nod.
âGood. Itâd be a shame if not. Taught him how to treat people.â
âHe knows for sure, maâam. I donât think youâll ever need to worry about that.â
Youâre careful with your gestures, your smiles, your movements. Even though sheâs made clear as day that sheâs not to fear, you still shift your entire focus on the delivery of your words.
If you werenât, youâd be more lax. Looking through the room, exchanging glances with Jungkook. If you werenât so distracted, youâd notice that heâs playing with the ends of your hair.
And youâd see the way he looks at you.
With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though youâre soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.
You donât see any of it; but his mother does. And you register the drift of her pupils, the minimal upward movement in her eyebrows as she shoots a glance at him â then back at you.
But when you follow her gaze to him, heâs already snapped out of it, clearing his throat.
âYou should go before youâre late,â Jungkook reminds her, removing his hand from your hair, âIâll go spoil her as you taught me, Mama.â
âYou better. Pressureâs on.â
He smirks, lopsided as he slings an arm around her shoulder. Sheâs so much smaller than him. âTell Dad Hi from me.â
A slight drop of his lips. He doesnât look at her but the ground. Tell-tale signs of a distant ache, hidden behind an attempt to find a cure.
The sting is palpable, right in the middle of your heart, but it dissipates bit by bit as he smiles at you again. Genuine once more, back to where he was only five seconds ago.
You nod at her, one last, non-verbal confirmation that you feel cosy here. Thereâs something inarguably sweet in her instant care. How she instantly roots for your happiness. How sheâs pouring all her empathy into you with a single look.
A stare that usually understands someone elseâs pain; and then hopes for eternal peace for them.
She doesnât even know you â does she? You wonder if he ever did speak about you.
âOkay then. Tell me if you need anything,â she says it to Jungkook, but promptly turns to you, promising you, âyou can, too. Of course.â
âI will. Thank you so much.â
Purse lifted further up her shoulder, she starts a move toward the exit, already starting to wave you goodbye before she suddenly stops. Looks at you, and blurts, âOh, andâ has he uhhhâŠ?â
She starts the sentence with hesitation, ending it with uncertainty and a look over her shoulder. You follow her eyes, barely catching him throwing a warning sign. His eyes are ripped open, head delivering tiny shakes, but he returns to normal the moment he catches you staring.
Okay. Something happened there that youâre not part of.
But that youâre supposed to be part of? You donât know.
Youâre curious, though. Already aware of what youâll be pestering him with tonight.
She shuts up, letting out a short, tiny breath. Her small, sweet fingers curl just once before she releases them again, and she flattens her coat, nodding.
âIâll leave you two alone then,â she declares.
âYou should stay for dinner next time, though!â you offer.
âOf course. Iâm eating with my husband after the appointment, so heâll probably already be waiting, but. Next time for sure. And you should come, too, someday.â
Right.Â
It doesnât stop. Itâs permanently odd hearing someone talking about that man other than Jungkook. Shouldnât be, because sheâs the closest and dearest individual to him, sharing a home and marital bed. ButâŠ
Itâs like people donât quite feel real from stories until one actually faces them. His momâs subtle, harmless words about her husband make him feel realer, and Jungkookâs issues with them.
But most of all you wonder â why has he never visited here? You wish he had. You wish he would sometimes. But she didnât even suggest bringing him with her next time. Or how his father would be delighted about a visit, too.
It doesnât seem to faze Jungkook. Or maybe it does, but he doesnât let it show. Or â worse. Has he gotten used to it? His fatherâs absence, or the term that defines their relationship.
Because he nods, a soft smile as a son usually throws at his mother. Casual but loving. He says, âWonât keep you here then.â
Jungkook kisses her head at the door, and she stuffs her hands in her coat, politely bidding you goodbye.
You watch as she approaches the staircase, still waving when she turns around one more time. You sigh in relief â she was friendly. No panic. You didnât fuck up entirely.
And despite the last moments of gloom that the mention of her husband evoked, you hear Jungkookâs chuckle resonate once the door finally closes. His steps move toward the living room, his shoulders shaking.
You nearly slide down the closed door as you watch him, head falling back before he falls into a wholehearted laugh. You imagine deep, multiple crinkles around his eyes, mouth wide in joy.
Eyebrows kissing, you follow him inside, nearly bumping against him when you realise heâs standing in the middle of the room, body still shaking from the chortle. Heâs facing the ground, and you hit his arm from the back.
âShut up,â you only order, opting to walk away.
But he turns to you, a hand around your elbow; he can barely breathe when he assures, âOkay. Okay, Iâll stop. Sorry, I justââ He sniffles as you look at him, sulking and trying his gloating not to make you laugh, too. âWhat were you doing?â
âThatâs not funny!â
âIâm not trying to be funny! Iâm serious.â
Which he clearly isnât. The smile is too infuriatingly wide, and the tug at your arm too affectionate. Heâs amused and you hateâlove?âthat you are, too. You keep the act of agitation intact for another moment.
But pieces of you break, your heart a melting mess when you watch his eyes nearly close, nose scrunched up. His shoulders rise â they always do whenever his laughter increases, bunny teeth protruding and the mole under his mouth a magnet to your lips.
And when he raises his hands to your face, cradling it, and speaks, you lose it entirely.
âWhat were you even saying, munchkin, huh? Youâre such a little idiot, you know?â he playfully scolds, squishing your cheeks; peppering kisses on your skin and your lips; barely allowing you a moment to talk.
âAnd youâreââ you say between tiny kisses, distracted by the childlike, muah-ish sound effects that accompany his pecks, âso mean.â
âAnd you are the sweetest thing to exist.â The lovingly aggressive touch vanishes from your cheek to be replaced by sudden pinches; your protests are high-pitched, and unfortunately, enhance his statement. âOkay, okay. Come on.â
He flicks your chin as if to provoke you further, but dodges all your teeny tiny rage to come when he moves past your body. Warning abandoned, his fingers tweak your ass as he targets the kitchen, and you yelp, instantly slapping a hand over your butt.
âFreshen up and letâs get to dinner. And hurry. Gotta give you hands-on relaxation later.â
âYouâre the worst, I mean it.â
But his evil snicker isnât.
He might make your hackles rise, and test your patience the way he used to so long ago. Back when youâd seek him out in a miniscule dorm room, eyebrows furrowed just to see him a bit longer after class.
Youâre always baffled how your foundation still stands; after all the shattering and agony and stings that fractured your heart. Only now, youâll be surrounded by the bicker every hour of the day.
And you wouldnât have it any other way.
Living through an odd day at work, driving around town and embarrassing yourself in front of your boyfriendâs mother makes one dizzyingly hungry, you realised. Stress didnât let you eat properly today.
Even now, thereâs something you need to reveal to him â but the moment you sit down to eat and crack the first joke, you donât have the heart to. And then, combined with the rush still lingering from the awkward, wholesome interaction before, and the shift in mood, you soon do the worst:
Forget about the issue.
Your eyes meet the bottom of your bowl sooner than preferred, your stomach still seemingly as empty as before. Whatever magic Jungkook seasoned the dish with, you want him to sprinkle it on your tastebuds every day.
Jungkook is sipping on his water when you suddenly look up and place a hand on his bicep, shaking him for attention. A guilty Oh slips out of you as you watch droplets roll down his chin, and he tries not to choke as he puts the glass back on the table.
âBabeââ
âIâm sorry!â you exclaim, thumb wiping at the fluid dampening his chin. âJust. Can we have more? That helped with that sickness all day, and⊠Iâm still hungry.â
Along with the lack of appetite, you assumed the stress and the constant overworking dragged the feeling of illness and stomach ache throughout the day, too. Jungkook keeps warning you about burnouts â doing a thousand things at once, youâve been thoroughly burdened.
But honestly. Maybe it was just hunger for a real meal.
âOh? I'm so glad it helped then! And sure,â he responds. âGo ahead, thereâs enough for like four people.â
You blink. âAnd you?â He shakes his head, patting his full tummy, attempting another try at drinking. You argue, âIâm not eating alone, though!â
âAngel, Iâve had like two portions. I'll be full until next dinner.â
âLame!â You shift on the couch, half of your ass holding you onto it, âAnd if we found ways to burn it off?â
ââŠAh?â
âI mean⊠You like working out. So just work me out.â
âShut up. Youâre impossible.â
Youâve long given up â youâre not an ass. You would never force him to eat or not to eat, unless he hasnât in hours. But you also need a foolproof way of amusing him.
Which, despite his very unimpressed expression, you know you did. His lips still twitch.
Sombre, his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek before he shakes his head. You pat his strong thighs, standing from the couch with a hungry groan.
âFine. Iâll go heat up some for myself then,â you announce, but Jungkookâs shrill alarm bells ring immediately, his body jumping off his seat.
âNot the microwave.â
âJungkookââ
âNot! The microwave. Just toss it in the pan and heat it up there.â
You tiptoe to the kitchen just a little faster, playful as he hurries after you. You spend your seconds explaining why the microwave wonât explode; how tickling you wonât change anything; how youâll break something if he doesnât stop.
But most of all, you spend your seconds allowing him to chase away all sorrows you carried for so goddamn long.
Shut up. Youâre impossible.
His prior agitation truly wasnât one at all.
Because despite your obvious jests, the calories lost on the couch rob you of all sanity at last. A hand in your hair, a body pushing yours down, free fingers roaming your sides and your legs, and lips never separating from yours.
He doesnât strip you off a single piece of clothing. Doesnât dig a hand underneath your shirt, focused on how your mouth feels, how his name rolling off your tongue sounds.
The eyes he stares into are vivid and bright, and he uses up all his power to not let them kill him. Your body wraps around his like the most tender of all embraces; he doesnât need you bare for it, no matter how blank the thought leaves his mind.
Only needs the proximity. The tongue touching his, the nails testing his shirtâs quality.
You miss most of the movie that he suggested, eating each other up, a fist around the hem of his shirt until he nearly falls off the couch and wakes you from your dream. You giggle and joke, spending the second half of the film yawning, sipping the peppermint tea.Â
Jungkook uses the quiet time for whispered conversations; massages your feet as you pleaded for, repeatedly asking for your comfort.
The moments arenât anything big, in theory. Youâre not in a fantasy novel, not throwing a ring into a volcano. Youâre mortal and here, surrounded by humane domesticity and drowning in casual conversations.
Yet â even though youâre not living through spectacular adventures, youâre breathing through special moments nevertheless. Because not a single second spent with him feels mundane, after all.
Sometime as the ending nears, you let your legs fall, pulled close to Jungkook by your hip. You donât quite understand when or how he does it, but miraculously, you land half on his lap, ass barely on the couch and cheek pressed to his temple.
Jungkook pushes a hand against your thigh, heaving you up further and moving you until youâre comfortable. Thereâs a light groan, followed by a feathery kiss to your jaw; and you wrap an arm around his shoulder to hold on, shifting even closer.
Your touchy warmth isnât new to Jungkook; but it seems that the changes in your lives made your inhibitions disperse. Like you broke the bars trapping you so far.
Because the increasing clinginess feels carefree; you donât overthink your movements tonight. Even before, there was lightness in your interactions; how youâd breathe in his presence, compared to when the world intruded.
The difference was still never quite veiled.
He saw it when he called from so far away all those weeks ago, staring at the distress in your face through a device â versus when he returned to your world.
Or just recently, when you stood on that tiny stage, talking down to reporters â as opposed to when you whispered for him to get you home.
Your shoulders always dropped in relief the moment you stood in his soothing radius. And yetâ
There was quiet discomfort in your eyes. And today â today he doesnât see that usual steam frying your brain. Your smile isnât burdened; youâre weightless, like youâre breathing.
Overwhelmed and endeared, Jungkook gulps. The pricking needle rods his heart, simultaneously flicking the wounds. He could cry.
He watches you busy your fingers with his shirt, unable to put his thoughts into a coherent string of sentences; so he only says, âYouâre so cosy today.â
âHm? Iâm always cosy.â
âMmmh⊠a bit more tonight.â
Your forefinger traces the outline of his pecs over his shirt, and you nod with a hum before you declare, âThatâs because Iâm trying to establish a healthy balance.â
âA healthy balance? How so?â
âI need to be nice, because youâre not.â
His eyes follow your fingerâs slow movements, so his voice is soft, barely concerned. But his brain canât quite compute as he asks, âIâm not nice?â
âYouâve always been mean, actually.â
He laughs. Taps your thigh rhythmically, close to your butt. âHow am I mean to you?â
âLike,â you press your palm flat in the middle of his chest, looking at him. Thereâs a crease between your eyebrows, the slightest hint of a pout on your lips. âYou ass couldâve answered when I came home. You didnât say anything! Or did you really not hear me?â
Oh.
Ogling into your anticipating, subtly piqued eyes, he suppresses a laugh. His lips form a thin line, but the glow in his dark eyes betrays him. Your hand lifts a little, ready to spank his pecs, but you close the gap again as you grant him another chance.
âHey, if you tell me you didnât hear, Iâll let it slide.â
Youâre well aware Jungkook graduated as the best of his year in Teasing You, and holds the degree proudly to your face every day â but you also know heâs honest.
So youâre not surprised when he admits, eyes mischievous, âI heard you.â Your slow blinking, the scolding gaze are hilarious to him; he looks unspeakably pleased. âI wanted to see what youâd do.â
Now you do slap his tits.
âAnd you didnât expect me to say that shit?!â you reprimand. He wraps his arms around you, his laughter a deep, genuine emergence from his chest. âIâm an idiot, in case you didnât know.â
âOf course. I do know,â he suddenly deadpans. Wow. That couldnât have come any more naturally. âI know you well, baby.â
âAnd yetâŠâ
He waves your concerns off, hand soon returning to your back to pull you closer. âSheâs chill. I knew you were gonna amuse her right away.â
âOh god. You planned this⊠Wait. You didnât shush her when you heard the door open, right?â
He doesnât answer. Just keeps looking at you. And then⊠is heâŠ
Is he zoning out?
âJungkook,â you call again.
âHm?â He stares at you beguiled, as if utterly distracted by whatever. âSorry. Canât hear youââ
âYou so can. Weâre alone and Iâm speaking loud and clââ
âNah, youâre just so pretty. I can barely focus.â
âI hate you.â
But you donât.
He doesnât need to spell his intentions out for you to understand. He might be testing your patience, but thereâs a hidden meaning in his words that he canât hide as well as he intends to after all.
Because you know he just wanted you to be yourself instead of playing a different role; just like he has never pretended in front of your parents. He knows youâd try extra hard for him â but he needed you to come in and receive affection as the person that you already are.
Guess whatever you blurted was the first impression he wanted to leave of you.
âSo,â you start after a moment, back to tapping his chest, âdo you think I did amuse her?â
âOh, she loved it.â Of course she did. You could see the Jeon-esque endearment in her eyes the moment you stepped into the living room. Humbles you. âSheâs gonna adore you, too.â
âAh. Like you adore me.â
Jungkookâs response arrives in the form of a long, semi-damp kiss, delivered to the corner of your mouth. You grimace, torso moving backwards at his gentle force. He adds another Mmmhhh to the gesture until youâre nearly falling off his lap, pushing him away again with a giggly, âStop!â
He leans back with a content sigh, eliminating more of the distance between you until his head almost rests against your chest. But when you speak again, he looks up into your face.
âHey. Your mom was saying something as she was leaving. What was it again?â
âUhhâŠâ
His pupils roll up in thought, one shoulder already rising to shrug, but then it drops again before he voices, âOh⊠YeahâŠâ A break in thought; then, âI figured youâd be busy with everything going on, so I was being reluctant about asking. Didnât wanna put you in a difficult position.â
You wait. He speaks on, âBut my cousinâs getting married next month, and Iâm invited.â
Thereâs a beat of a pause, and you anticipate, already sensing a presentiment before he spits it outâ
âAnd you are, too.â
Hold on.
Weddings. More often than not, weddings happen in big places, filled with a great number of guests. Of friends. And⊠of family members.
If what heâs suggesting isnât a hallucination, it means thatâd be how youâd step into the battlefield. Attempting your best to be yourself, to charm his family with whatever strategy.
Is he thinking of the same thing?
Because youâre speechless.
You close the mouth you only now notice stood agape, trying not to show the bubbling exhilaration too blatantly. Thatâd be your first joyful event together.
Oh god.
You might squeal; faint of nervousness. If you could, youâd press your fists to your lips and stomp your feet and twirl your hair andâ
âWait⊠You want me to go to a wedding with you?â you finally ask instead, keeping your voice in a normal pitch.
âOnly if you feel like it.â
âAnd⊠and you?â you inquire, wide eyes looking into his wider ones. Heâs nervous, too. âDo you want me to?â
âI⊠yeah. I do. I really, really donât want to go without you, actually.â
Shit.
âWhere is the wedding?â
âYeah, see, thatâs why I was afraid to ask. Youâre so busy and your jobâs so new. But weâdââ He hesitates, as if scared of rejection. Clicks his tongue, evaluating his words. âThe thing is that weâd have to drive all the way down. Itâs back at home.â
You need a moment. Back at home; youâre home. Meaning, itâs not here.
Meaning, itâs in his hometown. Meaning, you wouldnât just meet his family, but walk through a place of memories and deeply rooted, nostalgic affection, too.
Which is⊠such a huge fucking thing.
Especially for a girlfriend.
Eun always says it doesnât do bringing a girlfriend or boyfriend to big events such as birthday parties or weddings. Itâs disadvantageous for the pictures, she claims. Who knows how the future might play out?
But Jungkook isnât concerned with these issues. Jungkook wants you all the way down there, lurking on streets with him that he grew up on; tripped on; played on.
These are places with core remembrances. So easily expanded when more are added to them in later years; and so easily shattered when hearts break.
But a heart breaking is not an option, is it? Not anymore.
âYouâre⊠taking me to your hometown?â you ask. You immediately realise the choice of words, and donât hesitate as you add, âI mean. Youâd be taking me home. Youâd like toââ
âIs thatââ he interrupts, suddenly unsure, âbad? Did it change your mind? You donât have to, I promise.â
âNo. I actually might cry.â
His expression momentarily softens, a big, clear Awwwh written in it. Gentle fingers brush your hair back, observing the vulnerability in your eyes. But shit, you mean it.
You could cry.
Because you talked about this so long ago.
Back when he was miles away, yet so deeply settled in your heart. Sneaking his way into your head, eating you up inside. When he broke off a piece of you and took it with him as he left, no relief for weeks on end.
And when he came back, he promised heâd take you with him one day.
Is that it? Is that now?
âFuck,â you curse under a quiet laugh, confused by the burning in your eyes.
Jungkookâs hand brushes over your cheek, eyebrows slightly cocked. He might not have expected you to react with such⊠emotion. You hadnât either.
âHey,â his voice soothes, âdonât cry. Itâll be good. And if itâs not, or if you donât want to, we can just stay here and never go again.â
Youâre gonna sob. How did you deserve him?
Of course you want to go. Of course youâd make the best of it. No fibre in you wants to reject his offer.
In fact, youâre already daydreaming. BecauseâŠ
Howâs it gonna be? Will you see more stars there? Will his family like you? His Dad like you? And what are weddings with boyfriends like? Will you be seeing him in every flower in the hall, in every kiss the couple shares?
âNo,â you say, âIâll go. I will go because youâre too obsessed with me to leave without me.â
Jungkook chuckles immediately, but not speaking before rolling his eyes, âAnd youâre a brat.â
You wait a moment, smiling in unison with him, and then ask, âHonestly, I⊠Iâd love to. Can I just still askâŠâ Youâre curious; but you also want to keep feeling that warmth. More tranquillity from his words. âWhy would you not go without me?â
He doesnât stall.
âBecause itâs such a big event, and⊠so far away. I donât want to leave you here. And the thought of being at the most lovey-dovey place without my favourite person sucks.â
Youâll freaking screech.
âJungkook!â
Half of the name is muffled when your lips drop to the crook of his neck, back uncomfortably arching and face heating up. Your ass threatens to fall back on the couch, legs still over his, and he hugs you close as he snickers again.
He shakes your body gently, trying to lift your face. Calling your name when your breath tickles his skin, asking, âAre we embarrassed?â
âNo.â
But when you look at him again, your smile is wide enough to freeze your muscles in place. He shakes his head, flooded with aching joy, and makes sure again, âSo you want to go, yeah? Donât need time to think or something? Itâs okay if you do.â
âAs if. I really wanna go. Iâm gonna make this,â you touch his collarbones, then your own, âwork.â
He smiles. Grants you a short break to organise your thoughts. And while what you query next shouldnât come as a surprise, it does introduce a delighted shift in mood.
âWhat am I gonna wear?â
Jungkook puffs out a breath.
You donât notice; your focus drifts, directed to the carpet. You mentally scurry your closet, quietly trying to recall appropriate attire for weddings. Which is odd, because you should have the entire catalogue of your and every other place cemented in your mind.
âWhat do I wear?â you repeat, back to looking at him, barely allowing him a moment to think. âAnd donât say anything would look good on me. Serious answers only.â
âYou know a question like this prompts nothing but unserious answers from mââ
âKookââ
âOkay. I mean, you have such pretty dresses. Lemme just choose one and weâre supplied.â
Itâs an easy idea; fair enough. Only, youâre barely listening, earning a side-eye from Jungkook when you say, âI should buy a new one.â
Which still doesnât deter him, though. âCool. Iâll go with you then.â
âOr will I seem overdressed?â
âItâs a wedding, baby. Overdress like hell.â
âAnd⊠if Iâm underdressed?â
âYouâre still gonna be the hottest around!â he exclaims, and you flinch just a little. Heâs not truly agitated, but thereâs playful frustration in his voice, a grin around his lips. âDonât worry about the dress, okay? It wonât stay on you anyway.â
Jungkook expects you to react with similar scolding, using it to hide how timidly flattered you actually are. But youâre too fired up, restless in his grip as your voice grows shriller, âIâm so. Fuck, Iâm so excited!â
âI am, too. ButâŠâ
His palm moves up and down your back, one eye squinting shut as you start swaying a bit, pumped with serotonin. Like a thrilled child. Youâre soâŠ
He lowers his gaze; you might just see the heart eyes otherwise.
âOkay, hey,â he tries again, calming you as his fingers grasp your wrist. âShould we go to bed for now, though?â
You wait with your answer, relaxing your body. Stopping your elevated sounds, you draw the deepest breath in history, and then breathe out a whispery, âYeah.â
âYeah. Good. Oh.â
âHm?â
âYou havenât actually been to the bedroom yet, right?â
âOhâŠâ
True. Since you came home, you only conversed with his mother, then rushed to take a shower as she left, still filled with prickling and nervous emotions. And then you hurried back to him, starving, eating, watching TV.
And now youâre here.
Was something different about the bedroom, though? You donât think so.
âYouâre right,â you tell him, âno, not really. Just to shower. Why?â
âJustâŠâ
ââŠWhat?â
âOkay. Hold onto me.â
âHold ontâ oh, fââ
You gasp for air when two strong arms replace his soft hands, settling under your kneepits and around your back. He shifts dangerously on the couch, moving forward before he starts to lift with a self-motivating grunt.
âAndâ off we go.â
You sling your arms around his neck immediately, hiding, letting out a panicked, âBe careful, Iâm sliââ
âAll good. Relax.â His arms wrap more properly around your limbs, and you dare to listen. Allowing your legs to dangle, you let him carry you calmly, breathing air through O-shaped lips. âGood girl. I won't just let you fall.â
âYou better not.â
âNo. Just wait.â
He looks at you with a comical grin, throwing a kiss into the air and down to you. Using your feet to kick the door open, he halts at the threshold; for a second, he looks⊠up.
And just when he finally enters the room, you quietly follow his gaze. The question as to what to wait for gets stuck in your throat when you realise what it is he needed you to see.
Holy shit.
the chapter isn't over yet â much to go!! tumblr just doesn't allow more than 1k blocks/paragraphs. apologies for the scrolling, but i promise it's worth it :'D here's the rest! <3
1K notes
·
View notes