#reblog for more tiddies. like for more ass

[felsicveins]

"Like what you see, Wilson?"

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #dndads glenn close #dndads glenn #glenn close #glenn dndads #closeson #dndads odyssey #dndads s1 #dndads season 1 #reblog for more tiddies. like for more ass #comment for more tattoos #i crazy. i am crazy #yeah his snake tattoo is different every time i draw it and what of it #MILK SHAKE

[taegularities]

colour me in: blurred | jjk (m)

Summary: Funny how things never stay the way they were. You navigate through a life without Jungkook while wading through buried memories – and realise that every path leads back to him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating, partly college!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: artist jkkkkk, still a birthday, a present, exhibition and artwork reveal!!, memories, flashbacks, talk about exes, talk about guilt, ...frat party reveal i mean whut, jung hoseok lol, flirting, sexual tension, “how i, jk, met your mother” lmao i’m kidding, alcohol, insecurities, mean people, an absolute mess, yearning, we love tae, deep convos, overthinking; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, stripping, fondling, tiddie sucking, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, they’re dorks ??, lmao the dialogues :’’), they play a game, protected sex, drunk (consensual) sex, dirty talk, biting, sl*t mention, teasing, jk moaninnnng, partly rough sex, big dick jk, dom jk, aftercare, weird ass bets lol, i was blushing real hard writing the smut; “the ending” warning has become a constant too so :’) ➳ word count: 31.7k 🥲  ➳ a/n: what a big damn sigh i left out after finishing this one !! ugh, guys, thank you so much for sticking with me and waiting for this one. i truly hope it’s worth the wait… and their story shall only get better. thank you for betaing my love @missgeniality​​​​​ <3 as always, do lemme know what you guys think !! 🎨🤍  ➳ a/n2: keep in mind that every past tense scene is a flashback !! 😁  ➳ listen to: the only exception by paramore | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The very first day of September begins with a letter between your fingertips.

Or, perhaps not quite a letter — more a memory.

The pages of the diary aren’t older than two years, but they feel ancient when you skim them. A little dirty.

Maybe because the remembrances feel eons away, beginning in the middle of the second last year of college and ending sometime this spring. Mere months ago when cherry blossoms bloomed, along with a dozen other emotions.

You didn’t need to remember those days anymore, because you were gradually losing yourself in something and someone else. Not in love, not infatuated. Just distracted.

That is, until distraction became warmth.

Somewhere in the middle of this diary, you find words of a lost night. You don’t think of it too often; for a while, you felt too embarrassed and timid to reminisce.

Today, you can’t scan the memory, because it hurts.

This very entry is the worst of them all.

Contains all those damn hours in the gentle drizzle, followed by absolute heat, finishing off with glimmering lights in the sky and cold surfaces beneath you.

You don’t know all of it anymore.

But you know who tip-toed around you that night.

The frat party was never quite a frat party at all.

More a private thing hosted by some popular frat boy. It didn’t make much of a difference — half the campus was there, and the vibes were as fraternity as they could get.

You didn’t spend tonight under your fake starry ceiling as you usually would. This time, you sought an escape.

Honestly, everything was a get away these days, because you preferred running from reality rather than facing it; yet, you never quite landed where you wanted to be.

The hot party air was suffocating at first.

Cheap booze spilled into standard red cups, screeches accompanying the music. Despite the mind-numbing ambiance, you thought that’s where you belonged tonight.

With Eun’s concerned eyes on you round the clock, you kept the smile firmly plastered to your face. At times, you’d squint your eyes shut when the lack of lights tired you too much, but the unwavering noises kept you awake.

It was supposed to be a night you wouldn’t just flee your daily responsibilities and studies you weren’t sure you wanted, but from something else, too.

Someone else.

And that someone had dodged tonight’s party because of you. He hadn’t admitted it explicitly, but you knew he wasn’t one to miss such an event. And in some sense, you were relieved.

It was selfish of you. You felt awful, because he’d never proven to be anything but kind to you. But his absence forced at least an attempt to enjoy tonight. Knowing not too many faces around felt nice.

You weren’t particularly familiar with the frat boy community; you knew barely a handful of names in general. Like Eun’s. Jimin was supposed to be somewhere, too, because he told you he’d come. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

Then, there was this Choi Yeonjun dude; the host. Very young, but already known around college. Also, senior year hottie Cha Eunwoo.

And ah.

There was another guy you could match a name to.

Anyone who hadn’t heard of him before probably didn’t do much else other than head straight to class and then straight back home.

But you’d seen him in serene libraries before, hiding behind thick art books. And in departments that he had nothing to do with in order to meet his friends; to converse with girls.

You remember that he hadn’t been as popular or noticeable a couple months ago — he shot up like fireworks.

And right now…

He was leaning against the white wall on the other side of the room. Calm and collected, confidently talking to some girl; letting her brush his cheek; closing his eyes with crinkles around them and a tilted smile.

As she reached up to his temples, her intentions seemed genuine. The smile she flashed and the way she spoke — perhaps she was still sober, locked in the illusion that she could actually capture whatever beat behind his chest.

You didn’t want to seem judgemental — but you knew the reputation he fostered.

And even now, he seemed to be enjoying this. Like a puppy being spoiled. 

You would’ve watched a bit longer to find out how things would play out. It was an interesting scene; so transparent and clear. These two seemed to strive towards the same goal; it was written all over their faces.

But then, the sound of absolute crap infiltrated your ears; all of a sudden, shaking your world view.

“Hey!” you reflexively shouted.

The self-proclaimed DJ had spoken into the mic prior — apparently, he was replacing the originally invited song mixer. And he didn’t notice you until you waved. 

You’d probably seen him before, but you couldn’t really name him.

Full pink lips, a full dark mane.

He grabbed the mic with long fingers — where had they gotten a mic from anyway? — and holy, his voice was deep. A little unfitting to his gentle, handsome features.

But god, was his choice terrible.

You lifted your hand a little higher, and he pointed at you, ready to speak some DJ-esque motivational words to you before you yelled, “Go back to the good stuff!”

A couple nods around you affirmed your suggestion, but the guy only granted you one slapdash shrug before he went back to vibing to atrocities. The people who had murmured approval a moment ago resumed to whatever they were doing with a sigh or a headshake.

But there was one voice who didn’t quiet back down — its rise in volume was stark and clear, and your eyes immediately ripped open when you heard Jungkook howl, “Tae, I told you to not play shit!”

When you looked at him, he was cupping his mouth. The girl next to him giggled, but one of Jungkook’s eyebrows was cocked, hands raised as if to say, “Am I always just talking to a wall?”

He disregarded the girl’s laughter and shot you a stare instead; matched the light smile you didn’t know had crept upon your face; raised one shoulder in what you assumed was an apology.

Amused, you lifted the corners of your lips a little further. The warning hadn’t moved Tae at all, but the scene had been, admittedly, fun to initiate and witness. Even though it lasted a mere thirty seconds.

Because a moment later, the girl caught Jungkook’s attention again; her finger moved his head by his chin, her face closer to his — you took a few steps back and walked away.

This wasn’t your territory; you were an uninvited observer who happened to temporarily catch the target’s attention. And the target was in the wild, in a beloved habitat, so all you could do was leave him basking in his joys.

There had to be an activity you could dote on, or a familiar face you could approach. Eun had left with an excuse you hadn’t heard, and now, she was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long for you to realise that your search for her would remain fruitless.

And just when you were cottoning to the idea of roaming the party alone, an unexpected form materialised next to you. Like a hallucination, sneakily.

His hand coolly sat inside his jeans pocket; yours lamely stuffing snacks into your mouth — the dichotomy was all too present. Your big eyes ogled at a friendly smile and a tiny nod. You covered your mouth, looking a little longer, and then dropped your gaze again.

Jeon Jungkook was probably just fetching a drink for his gorgeous date. You wouldn’t have to grant him much attention.

But when a minute passed and he still lingered around, possibly unable to choose a delicacy, you looked at him again — as if on cue, just the moment he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry for the music.”

He shook his hair to the side, leaning in with a radiant smile; you didn’t know why he felt guilty enough to approach you for such a thing, but you were ready to forgive him anyway. Admittedly, it was hard to deny his charms.

Your pupils moved in confusion; with raised shoulders and a cocked eyebrow, you asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook started, a thumb pointing behind him without breaking eye contact, “he’s my best friend.”

You’d forget Taehyung’s name the next morning again; the apology wasn’t necessary and you bet he knew. But your mouth still formed an ‘Ah’, head nodding just a little as you confirmed, “Well. That is a reason to apologise, I guess.”

Registering another nod and light chuckle, you averted your eyes politely and shifted them to the table.

You filled your palm with trail mix before your stare drifted across the room — Eun was still not in your periphery, but you guessed she’d find you soon enough.

Perhaps she was testing you. Getting you out of the shell you’d retorted into in the past days, fearing everything and nothing at once.

Tonight was the first breath of air you got; something about all happenings this summer suffocated you.

The man next to you, albeit still a stranger, seemed to want to provide further distraction.

Because when you whipped your head back into his direction, you found him munching on snacks — still here, smiling at you once more. Was he waiting for something?

“So,” you started; the moment you spoke, big eyes focused on you curiously. Wow. “Where did you leave your girl?”

His face fell. Not in the melancholic way, but you thought you still found insecurity and something not too pleasant in it. He puffed out air, looking over his shoulder and then back to you.

“Should still be where you saw us last. But the room got smaller by the minute,” he said. You understood — even a rich frat boy’s house fills up at some point. “And I’m not in the mood to go back.”

“Oh. Why?”

“She was uhm… saying things I didn’t agree with.”

“Like what?”

You bit your tongue the moment he laughed. Playfully, as though he knew you inside out, he nudged your shoulder, teasing, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You blinked slowly. “Nothing, really. You wouldn’t care about it.”

He was probably right.

So you digressed.

Hummed, though you were sure he couldn’t hear it; even in this big ass kitchen, the sound of the music reverberated.

You shuffled your feet a little, ready to move on and find your friend. Maybe learn a thing or two about her pals to integrate yourself. You still couldn’t quite say how a law student like Eun knew so many people at all.

Extroverts have it easy.

You reached to the back pocket of your jeans, fishing out your phone and unlocking the screen to give her a call. 

Jungkook, still unmoving, had to be peeking, because he exclaimed an excited vocal, questioning, “What was that?”

A tattooed, lean finger pointed to your device, and you looked down, voicing a timid, “…My phone?”

“No,” he shook his head, suddenly shy for snooping. “Uhm. Your wallpaper.”

“Oh,” you looked down, eyes frozen on the dimming screen before they landed back on him. “Well, just… the night sky with some lyrics. Very basic stuff.”

“What lyrics?”

He seemed genuinely curious. It was sweet — but judging from how he’d left another girl in the other room just a moment ago, you couldn’t quite figure out what his intentions were.

So you pulled up your guard just a little, straightening your stance and covering your mind in some ice to cool it down.

And then, you answered, “You wouldn’t know them.”

But he shrugged, tilting his head, and challenged, “Try me.”

For a moment, you stared.

Then, you cleared your throat, exhaling a breath and lit up your phone again. As you held it into his face for him to read, you saw the sparkle in his eyes for the very first time — the beam of your phone allowed it for just a second as he read.

“You and I were bright, shooting through the sky daily.”

And then, he started nodding, sporting an impressed expression. His body movements were open — eager to engage in conversation, sincerity clear.

He simply said, “Good one.”

To which you squinted your eyes, stuffing your phone back. What did you take it out for again? Didn’t matter — it was locked again.

“Do you really know it or are you just acting like you do?” you asked.

Jungkook’s sudden laugh took you off guard — he wasn’t irritated but amused. His snicker was accompanied by tiny dimples and wrinkles around his huge eyes; the sound was lovely and pure.

And you nearly expected a delightful compliment before he clicked his tongue and said, “Damn. Stuck up, aren’t we?”

Well, fuck.

The way he eyed you, still enjoying your company with those rude words of his — was he the distraction you needed tonight?

He was amusing.

“Damn,” you said back.

“I do know The Neighbourhood,” he argued. He sounded calmer again; his voice dropped deeper. “I may look stupid, but I’m not.”

Internally, it made you laugh. Externally, you kept yourself at bay.

He didn’t look stupid at all, and his humour was on point. You bet that’s how he wrapped all the girls around his inked fingers.

Literally.

“I mean,” you said, unintentionally moving closer to him when someone approached the table. He smelled like soap and lotion. Looked at the vanishing distance in surprise. You moved to the side. “One doesn’t need to be stupid or smart to know a song.”

And suddenly, he chuckled again.

“What?” you asked.

“Goddamnit.”

“...What?”

“Nothing, just. You’re funny. Witty.”

You couldn’t say why he found it funny, but you felt charmed. Ugh… no. That’s how things started, you were sure.

So you were quick to state, “And you’re not my ty—”

Which was a blatant lie.

Jeon Jungkook was everybody’s type. A wandering deity with a Greek God’s body and a face carved in heaven. Splendid rizz game.

“I’m not hitting on you,” he quickly interrupted, right at your tail when you approached the door, “spare me the I have a boyfriend talk.”

You knew where this was going — you weren’t stupid either. Those subtle statements demanded a response, and idiotic enough and two red cups down, you said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“What what?”

“No, like,” he started. As you halted in your steps, right next to the couch and looking at him, he took a seat on the couch’s arm. “I fully expected you to give me the boyfriend lecture.”

You took a deep breath. No matter where you went, this… reality followed you.

Half frustrated, half tired of it, you shook your head again, looking into the depths of the cup you’d grabbed, and said, “I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Right.”

“Not quite at least.”

You kept adding things. Why?

The stored up misery escaped so easily now — but why with him?

He stared at you with actual attention in his eyes; God, he could feign it well. Even worse when he spoke and you heard the interest in his mild voice, “Quite?”

“I just do not, okay?”

The words didn’t come out rude. Hastily maybe, but not vexed.

But Jungkook’s expressions still changed. The curiosity from before faded bit by bit; realisation dawned on him that you were here for something else tonight and not… whatever you were fleeing from.

Maybe, you thought, he’d been sincere before. Actually socialising and expanding your casual exchanges.

But now that you’d closed the topic once and for all, he dropped the puppy gaze and transformed back into what you thought he was. A beloved presence on campus, always relaxed and always popular.

You saw his peer change in slow motion — baffled when he opened the path to his cocky self again.

And confident and with the tiniest of winks, he said, “Cool. So then… not to hit on you, but,” he lifted a hand, big and masculine, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

Jeon Jungkook and the liquor made the house look and feel twice its size.

After wandering around for over half an hour, you thought the hallways and rooms were expanding exponentially — until you passed the same plant you’d definitely seen a while ago. Some by now familiar faces were still roaming around the same place.

But the conversations you began kept shifting; time became relative. Subtle teases and little laughs kept you busy.

“By the way,” you asked. The lights were starting to burn into your eyes. Too neon and painful. “Are you gonna follow me all night?”

Jungkook tsk-ed, comical sass in his expression as he clarified, “I’m not following you, I’m literally walking next to you.” He tilted his head once, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “So rude.”

“Sorry.”

“Besides, you’re not necessarily doing what you were supposed to, either.”

Tired eyes blinked at him, an eyebrow cocking. For a moment, you found yourself lost, but the realisation that you were going to look for Eun dawned on you a mere second later.

In all honesty, you had walked past by her once.

She’d raised both eyebrows when she’d detected him, wearing a mirthful look, and you nodded as a fleeting greeting, but let him blabber on. Kept walking.

You didn’t tell him any of this, though.

“Yeah, well,” you crafted a careful excuse, vaguely gesturing across the badly lit, crowded living room, “easy to get lost here.”

He squinted, eyes flitting across the chattering bodies. You barely heard the hum, but you saw the shrug as he asked, “Is it really?”

“I mean… It might be easier for you since you know almost everyone here.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?”

Another shrug; softer this time. Blooming lips curved into a pretty smile, and he nodded towards you. Let his eyes scan you head to toe before he finally said, “I don’t know you.”

Hm… True.

Seemed like he didn’t want to keep it that way.

You nodded with tightly pressed lips, averting your gaze and shifting it to the back of the room, out to the backyard. It was one of those semi-rich houses with French windows; you could see the cleanly cut grass and part of the treehouse from here.

“Anything you’d like to know, then?” you finally asked.

“Keep going.”

Jungkook gestured to the staircase in the hallway. You looked around; you guess you’d been blocking the entryway to it. Partygoers gave you a weird look.

You stirred, clearing the traffic jam, and navigated towards the staircase. Jungkook, hot on your trail, answered, “Uhm. Yeah, actually — be honest. Do you know The Neighbourhood from social media? TikTok and shit?”

“God, no,” you immediately defended, secretly outraged, “I’ve known and supported them since high school.”

“Oh.” Now that you were steering towards the first floor and away from the music, you could gradually register his words clearer. “Okay. What else?”

“What else? Like what other music? Uhm… Avatar: The Last Airbender soundtrack.”

He rolled his eyes, rocking a little as you approached the end of the staircase. People floated by you quickly, roaming the entire place.

“Come on,” he replied.

“What? It legitimately counts!”

You still felt the vibrations of the beat. It wasn’t so bad from here; kind of pleasant, fitting the rhythm of your conversation.

Or his laugh when he puffed out air, leading you down the hallway; a couple steps from here, you detected a small balcony. But as you neared the exit, you found it busy; two friends drinking, chatting the night away.

Jungkook halted, pressing against the wall with a glimpse to the ground. He rubbed his eyes; you understood. The hallway was lit a million times better than any room downstairs. Balm for your eyes.

“Alright,” he asked, looking up to you with an inhale, “another trivial question as we wait,” he tilted his head towards the door. “What’s a superpower you’d choose?”

You contemplated on suggesting a walk outside the house, but you knew why he’d possibly led you here — it was quieter. The crowd not as tense.

So instead of muttering the question, you relaxed your spinning head; your heavy eyelids fell a little as you said, “Oh, uh… let me think.” You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the ceiling; and eventually, you challenged, “Tell me yours first. And make it as useless as you can.”

For some odd reason, you were eager to hear his question.

You found yourself wondering about him and his little habits a lot.

Jungkook took a moment to ponder, and then declared with a miniscule hint of sarcasm, “Ah. Never spilling my drink. Knowing every dance move to every song.”

Maybe the alcohol was truly showing its effect, because you burst into simultaneous laughter that forced the strangers’ eyes upon you. From the balcony, they looked at you, chuckling just a little before they turned back.

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, hearing him ask, “Alright, your turn. What’s your superpower choice? Uselessness is the key.”

“Okay, easy,” you said, shifting up the wall you’d slid down a bit, “I’d choose the superpower of persuasion. Would use it for the greater good, like––”

“That’s not a useless power—”

“––To convince everyone that The Last Airbender soundtrack deserved more recognition.”

“Okay. Way to make it as useless as possible.”

“Soundtrack of the century.”

“Okay. Sure, why not?”

Short pause, but never awkward.

In truth, you found a moment of respite from the chaos underneath your feet. The wall you leaned against was cold against your bare arms and calves, and for the first time tonight, you thought you could think.

Nevermind your foggy brain, and the way his company made reality blur.

You were enjoying yourself.

That is, until Jungkook spoke up again.

“Okay… one more thing, and you can fully tell me to fuck off if you don’t wanna tell.”

You turned to face him, eyes filled with intrigue, mustering a sole, “Hm?”

“You’re… escaping something tonight. Aren’t you?” He took a deep breath, words dangling between you. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, brief surprise flickering in them. “Do you want to vent?”

His probing was delicate, not overly curious. He was being careful, ready for rejection, and you appreciated it, no matter how caught off guard by his perceptive observation.

“What?” you still voiced.

“I don’t think that’s your type of environment, right? Nothing seems to catch your attention for long enough.” He paused again, meeting your gaze intently. He tumbled to the other side, pressing his back against the wall. “Except me. You’re still talking to me.”

There it was — you were sure it was.

That fleeting moment of vulnerability that passed over your face. Not just due to the circumstances but to everything that they evoked, too.

Jungkook wasn’t wrong, and his keen understanding of your inner life surprised you.

Slowly, you let out a soft laugh, just a little fragile as you admitted, “You’re right. I’m escaping the responsibilities of adult life and the upcoming doom of my last college year.”

Yeah… but beneath the surface, there was more.

You didn’t know whether he saw it; you knew you weren’t too drunk yet to decode expressions.

But he only nodded, offering a gentle smile. Told you, “Sometimes that shit does weigh us down. But isn’t it worth it? Don’t you like college?”

“I do like college,” you argued, “I just don’t like the thought of finishing it. Because then you’re deep in that… life thing. You probably understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, no doubt. I just don’t think of it yet, because I want to like what I do.”

Want to like what I do.

Was that what you were doing to yourself? Making something miserable for yourself that could or could not have ended half as bad as you thought?

Hmm…

“That’s good,” you said.

“I mean,” Jungkook started again. “You’re still young. If you can’t be passionate about what you’re doing, you can look around for something better, you know? Like—”

His shoulder rose, and he clicked his tongue, “You don’t have to go with whatever’s forced upon you, no matter who you are.”

Your eyebrows kissed; you felt a sense of relief the moment the breeze blew through the open door. Two fresh inhales at once.

You were in for surprises all night, it seemed.

“Do you… know who I am?” you wondered; your voice was cautious, intent on not spilling too much.

Which wasn’t necessary after all.

“I told you I’m not stupid.”

Yet, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t care for it, either. It was kind of nice.

A corner of your lips tugged into a little smile, hands folding behind your back as you digressed, “Is there anything else you’d like to know, Jungkook?”

He huffed, shaking his head for a moment; folded his arms as he teased, “You didn’t even answer my question.” He bit the inside of his cheek; seemed amused. A little fascinated. “But okay. Something else then. Do you like games?”

Huh.

“Like what?”

“Mmmh. There’s spin the bottle,” he suggested, albeit immediately taking it back upon taking in your grimace. “Okay, no, but there’s also like… two truths, one lie?”

“Oh, uh—”

“We don’t have to play—”

“No, I…” You sighed, delivering a reassuring smile. He was truly so polite. “I was just thinking, but…”

He was waiting with those big eyes. Shaking the hair off his face with slightly parted lips. Those things — they felt like tiny habits; you wished you’d been sober enough to pinpoint all of them.

You gathered three ideas in your head, and after careful contemplation, you said, “Okay. I have shotgunned a beer in under ten seconds.” He looked impressed. Fun. “I snuck into a music festival without a ticket. And… I prank called an ex once.”

“Shotgunned a beer,” his answer came immediately, no trace of doubt, “I tried that once and it took me over fifteen seconds.”

“Well. You’re wrong, noob,” you answered, delighted by his mock annoyance, “I never called an ex to prank them. That’s disrespectful.”

For a second, he looked embarrassed — and then, he nodded, accompanied by, “And I respect that.”

He shifted against the wall, inhaling a breath with a hiss as he thought. His eyes travelled to the ceiling, and then to the people wandering about. No one was approaching the balcony, because you’d already patiently reserved your spot.

Jungkook squinted his eyes shut, and then released the lips he’d pressed together with a plop. Finally uttered as his fingers counted, “‘Kay uh, I have pulled an all-nighter for a major exam and still aced it. I have performed a belly flop off a diving board—”

“Those are so specific.”

“And, I’ve been part of a flash mob before.”

No clue, and no point in thinking about it. So you guessed, “I’ll say the flash mob one isn’t true. We’ve all pulled an all-nighter before, and the other one was too distinct.”

“Well damn,” Jungkook said, stretching the last word as though you’d solved a century-old riddle. “You’re right. You already know me so well.”

“I could do a quiz show on you, I’m sure.”

He laughed. Whenever he expected you to roll his eyes at him or to dismiss his foolish jokes, you joined his bullshit instead. Sweet.

The boys relaxing outside interrupted your game, finally flooding out. Apparently, there was a third you couldn’t see, and he flinched when you made your way out, almost bumping against you.

You didn’t know who it was, but he seemed to know Jungkook.

Flashed a gummy smile when his eyes moved back and forth between your conversation partner and you. His cheeks were red, but his stance and walk were still stable; high-tolerance drinker.

But a little, teasing “Enjoy yourself,” was still in the interaction as he passed you by.

Walking out into the summer night immediately evoked a sense of serenity. The warm breeze caressed your skin, wafting the scent of blooming flowers towards you. Under the moonlit sky, the world was alive — or at least, the one you were visiting right now.

It was a little louder here again, though the noises came from chatter and conversations rather than music. 

From here, you had a better view at the neighbourhood; and tragically, at the people making out in that children’s treehouse. You laughed.

Leaning over the railing, you inhaled the wind, watching Jungkook follow suit before you said, “Okay, moving on — I’ve never sat on the roof of these… detached houses. I am not a procrastinator… And I’d really like some more of that cheap booze right now.”

He looked at you in disbelief, though charmed enough to chuckle and wonder, “You actually do?”

“That’s on you to find out.”

“I mean, maybe you are sick of wine and champagne.” Well… true. But when he saw bits of your expression fall, his laughter subsided a little, and he added without hesitation, “No, but you might actually mean that. I feel like those are all truths, but… I’ll go with the procrastination one.”

You stomped your feet in light excitement when he guessed wrong, glimmering eyes staring into starry ones. “Nope.”

“No?” His forehead wrinkled; and then, his eyes ripped open. “What, the roof bit?”

You nodded. He asked, “Oh? Wait, what?”

More than two decades, and you’d only seen these things in movies and TV shows. People sharing lunches and thoughts on roof tiles, soaking in the sun, building up to a big, character-developing moment.

No real life occurrence for you.

“Why does it surprise you?” you asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I…” He leaned back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m a country boy.” Interesting. The more you knew. He pointed to the sky. “More stars down there, so we used to do it a lot in the summer. And a friend of mine… she and I, we liked spending nights like this.”

You ignored the pause after the mention of his friend — you wouldn’t have noticed anyway if he hadn’t dropped his gaze to his hands.

“Oh… that sounds nice.”

A nod confirmed your statement, short-lived when he said, “Alright. One more.”

He turned towards you, placing his lower arm onto the railing. His smile was genuine; he looked beautiful like this. Messy hair blowing into his face, covering his eyes until it didn’t and you finally saw—

That.

This man had an entire night sky in his eyes, diamonds sprinkled all over.

So sincere. Maybe that’s what lured them all in; not just his charm.

“Okay,” you more mouthed than said.

“So,” he drew in a breath, licking his lips, “I’m a cat person. I’d rather drive than shotgun. And…”

Once more, he hesitated, bringing back his thinking face, and you used the moment to declare, “These are tough.”

He stalled. You waited; looking at him in anticipation until he smirked, leaning in to nudge your shoulder and utter the most outrageously riveting confession of the night.

Your heart stood still before he’d spoken the last syllable.

“I kinda wanna kiss you right now.”

A fever dream, wasn’t it?

You blanked. You would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t think about it tonight.

Obviously not a top priority, but it’d crossed your swaying mind, undoubtedly. Not that you knew too much about him — but he drew you in, like a hook-up with chemistry.

Because that’s what that night seemed to develop into.

All that your throat spit out was a little, “Damn—”

He held up a hand, and then pointed to his chest, innocently stating, “But that’s me. I won’t even touch you without consent.”

The balcony was rotating a little. Either the ground or you.

Probably you.

Because your mind was blurred, too; the air charged with tension. The witty banter and lighthearted remarks weren’t supposed to shift like this; where had all this appetite come from?

“So you’re… confessing one of your truths now?” you asked.

A playful smile tugged at your lips; you angled your head, waiting for a response.

His chest moved inwards, holding the breath before he choked it out in a laugh. Embarrassed with himself, he lifted a shoulder, saying no more than, “Well, shit.”

Ugh, the playful tone.

The thirst pooling in your stomach subsided a little when you saw his eyes sparkle like this. Images of his lips on yours faded just slowly as you found enough courage to tell him, “Not that easy to just snatch a kiss from me.”

A frisky challenge appeared in your eyes and he took it all in patiently as he inquired, “Okay… what would I need to do then?”

If he truly meant his little admission, were you going to let him dive into it? Allow the little adventure, swaying from your original plans for tonight?

Did you have any at all?

Your voice daring and just a teeny tiny bit mischievous, you proposed, “I’ll kiss you if I fail at guessing the lie. If not, then I won’t.”

A smirk danced on Jungkook’s lips as he leaned closer, a surge of excitement mingling with a touch of nerves. Quietly, he mused, “Fifty-fifty chance.”

“Right.”

“You could just…” His voice dropped the moment his eyes did, following the fingers that reached out to your arm but never touched you. “Walk away if it’s too weird.”

“Nah. I’m too invested now.” A grin spread across your voice, hiding the fog his expression elicited. “Kiss me when I lose. And I’m saying that, because I do feel like I’ll win.”

Stupid, usual, drunk blabber.

Too courageous. Too daring.

“I choose,” you tried to focus on your sentences, only mildly distracted by the bite of his lip, “drive rather than shotgun. You probably do like cats.”

And the moment you voiced your option, victorious crinkles formed around his eyes. Doom became crystal clear to you, though you couldn’t help but embrace it with open arms.

And the thought stirred something in you.

“Wrong. I like cats, but I have a dog and I love him to bits,” he remarked, triumphant and teasing.

Holy fuck, he was good at this.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

He was too exhilarating, his effect too undeniable. And each of his words strengthened that desire in you, luring you in like a seductive melody, enticing you to surrender to its rhythm.

“It’s okay,” was what it entailed, “I know you don’t want to kiss me,” he backed away, and you released the breath, “so I won’t.”

The smirk stayed glued to his face. Unspoken words remained just that, and you let the night evolve, aware yet oblivious to how it’d unfold.

And as he leaned back again, his expression promising, you allowed the spark to keep dancing between you. Patient and curious when you let him know—

“Jeon Jungkook… that’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”

The letters on the paper barely make any sense.

You read through and over them, putting them together to syllables and relating them to the other words in the sentences.

You still remember rushing through your narrative. Half excited and half indignant, you jotted down all you could remember before you wouldn’t. The lines and curves of the alphabet are messy and nowhere near constant.

Exhausted and still feeling remnants of the inebriation, you didn’t have it in you to indulge in poetry or eloquent prose.

You remember it got worse as you proceeded. You remember your words became blurrier, incoherent, your thoughts jumping from one idea of the night to another.

To sentences he said, to things he did.

Only now, it has all escaped your memory — and it seems that your past self didn’t have any particular intention to let your older being recall it all.

Because in the middle of the page, your thoughts finish in a cliffhanger.

I think at the very end, it wasn’t the time we spent in the bedroom that messed me up. It was the goddamn roof.

And that’s it.

When you flip the page, another day has started. Several dates skipped, you talk about a cosy study session in a coffee shop and the faces you saw. About the waitress who praised your hair style and ended up chatting for half an hour.

Little things. You didn’t mention Jungkook again anymore until he joined your class and crept under your skin. Evoked all emotions you barely knew before — a pain in the ass but an introduction to… whatever has developed now.

An alternative to the reality you lived. Never out to fix you but to pull you out of your shell.

Maybe that’s why you ripped out all the pages. Behind the lost memories, you still know the humiliation you faced — but you don’t know about the little dialogues anymore. The things he said and how you perceived them.

Where are those words you scribbled down? 

You look around your room. Your bed and desk are a mess; numerous objects scattered enough to make you uncomfortable. The sun is still high in the sky, but you know it’ll set eventually.

And by then, it’ll be too late.

Maybe you should stuff the diary back to the place you pulled it from. Maybe you should leave this smothering room; that spot on the bed where you sit, sunlight burning up your skin.

You hold your breath when your phone vibrates against your thigh, and let it out when your heart has calmed from the sudden intrusion.

The lit screen is unreadable against the sun; but when you lift it to your face, the message jumps into your face and attacks you like a wild animal. 

Hoseok [6:23PM]: Work was slow today, but I’m not doing the night shift this time!! Hoseok [6:23PM]: So we could grab dinner if you’d like?😁

A kind, genuine question shouldn’t grip your chest like this. The way your heart is leaking and your lungs emptying — when someone really cares for you, that shouldn’t happen.

But when you don’t care back just as much, it still does.

You remember feeling just like this a year ago; at the stupid party with its stupid music and then on the dumb, stupid roof.

An active dodging of one presence and a silent yearning for another.

It makes you sick.

The twisted feeling in your stomach lingers; and when you look at your diary again, you feel it everywhere. In your guts, in your chest, in your throat.

Something burns behind your eyes; tears are missing in action, but you think it’s your melting brain. On fire as you keep overthinking, fingers curling in, legs restless and urging you to stand.

Hoseok’s dinner dates aren’t what you crave, and you know it. Everyone knows it.

He, the cause of all misery, must, too.

And when the ache becomes too poignant, nearly unbearable, you lift yourself off the mattress. You flatten your shirt, pull up your jeans and grab a thin bolero just in case.

If you hurried, you could make it, right?

Rushing down the stairs, you shoot a message back to Hoseok; simple and quick. Hints of regret penetrate the back of your mind, but you shove them away to focus on the situation on hand.

You [6:25PM]: Ahhh I’m at an event today but… tomorrow? x

Your eyes dart to the top of the screen. Numbers sting more than they should; the date looks unreal today.

September 1st.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

But… That's for you to worry about later.

Ripped pages and a fervent night still floating in your mind, you step into your car. It’s hot inside, considering you left it standing on the road after work instead of parking it in the garage.

It’s baffling how lazy heartbreak makes you. How tiny tasks leave a body immobile, forcing it to stick to the bare minimum.

You grip the wheel hard, only now realising how breathless the short way down rendered you. The prospect of seeing him again stirs your insides and your mind. Doesn’t let you start the engine just yet.

In the moments that you use to relax, you imagine how things might go.

You’d enter a climatised, sophisticated building. Walk past art that people worked hard on, admiring every stroke and colour. Would approach the place he invited you to with a wobbly body; ready for whatever pain he’d inflict on you.

But.

Pain.

Isn’t that what has kept you away for all those endless days since you escaped the dark alley?

Pressed against the cold wall, flush against him, hot lips parted and a hotter breath mingling with yours. Only to crush all you’d hoped for. He did this to you.

You begged. And he kept doing it to you.

Do you have the capacity to hurt again?

Your head moves to the side. Slowly peeking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the squared object, wrapped in silver; you don’t have the heart to look at it for too long.

No.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

Perhaps it’s better to not allow such a later at all.

So you remove your trembling hands from the steering wheel. Look down to them; feel your body fall again. Whatever hope you’d gathered evaporates at the idea of the same, damn ache.

And it feels awful. So fucking awful.

The bare minimum. That’s what all of you wants you to do. With the energy gone, you want to become weightless. Want to press against the pain in your chest.

So you walk back in; lay down without attending dinner.

One last glance at your phone before you put it away. Still the damn first of September.

An hour later, notifications light up your phone, but you, pulled in by the same uneasy slumber, won’t see them anymore before the morning breaks in.

Those darn treacherous lips of his had lied to you.

He’d said he wasn’t hitting on you; wanted you to spare him all talk of boyfriends and affection.

Instead he kept talking — kept drinking with you.

Rendering you breathless when he pushed you against the wall of an empty room, shoving his tongue down your throat like it was all he ever knew how to do.

You remember giggles — an ongoing, addictive streak of childish laughter. Coming from his touches and silly words and from how it tickled when he kissed that sensitive spot on your neck.

With a sigh, you put a hand half on his jaw, half on his cheek. His features were sharp; in your drunken state, you wondered if you’d cut yourself if you ran your fingers across them fast enough.

But everything was foggy and insane; it was surprising enough that your legs weren’t giving in under his actions. And when your brain enabled a coherent conversation, you felt even prouder.

“Are we gonna stay here?” you asked.

It must have been the first time tonight that you could hear your own voice properly. The music sounding from downstairs was a lot dimmer here, muffled through the door.

Your head felt a sense of relief that he took very soon again; the tiny but sharp bite on your neck made you gasp in anticipation. He was doing whatever the fuck he wanted to, and you let him.

“I mean,” he whispered; his voice was low and raspy, and its effect shot straight under your skirt, “I can totally take you against the door.”

Which was menacing enough as it was. But the promise to take you at all left you wanting so much fucking more.

You rubbed your legs together as a heavy hand pushed against the small of your back. He lifted his head to look at you, teeth digging into his pink, lower lip. His eyes looked so damn thirsty that you felt your own tongue dry up.

As he stared at you in question, fingers digging into your back, you said, “Nah… door too cold and uncomfortable.”

“‘Kay,” his fingers snuck to the hem of your skirt, only pushing under the material for a brief moment before they retreated, “get to the bed then.”

Your body felt like a feather when he let you go.

As you obliged, taking languid steps to the mattress, your voice was still enthusiastic and you were still bubbly, “It’s so much calmer here.”

You sighed when you dropped onto the bed, not quite noticing that he didn’t deliver an answer. You didn’t have it in you to focus on much at all when you looked at him again — because he was locking the damn door.

And something about this little, harmless gesture was so devilishly sexy.

You looked at the ceiling; then closed your eyes. He was too much to bear; so you continued your zany ramble, “I usually get a headache at such dark and loud places.”

No answer. But you heard steps inching closer.

You had to shoot a glance.

And when you did, he was undoing a few buttons of his shirt, including the ones of his sleeves. Then whipped out his belt and threw it to the side haphazardly, grinning down at your awaiting body.

He was so hot.

“But not today,” you continued, “I was too distracted to get a headache today.”

“Mhmmm.”

The tired glimpses of him walking to you had your heart beating at an unreal rate. You knew he was just as drunk as you, but he was oddly calm for now, as opposed to you. Or maybe, he just acted that way.

When he suddenly dropped onto the bed, knees digging in and a torso and lips hovering above you, your breath hitched.

Fuck.

“Keep talking,” he ordered.

His smile was inviting and on purpose. Big eyes were half-lidded now, wanting and hankering. You were putty in his hands.

“What?” you mumbled.

“You said you were distracted.”

“I… I still am.”

“Yeah,” a smirk lifted his lips; his fingers freed your forehead off a few hair strands. In return, his bangs hung into your face. “Tell me about it.”

You gulped.

Your hands itched to grab him by his collar, but you felt so powerless that your digits didn’t move. A sole kiss wasn’t supposed to fuck you up like this, but you were already a hot mess.

And when you finally gathered a full thought, you said, “I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, letting his face drop a little more. “Why?”

“We’ve talked enough.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, laughing, closing his eyes as his breath fell against your shoulder.

The tip of his nose ran a trail along your neck and then down to your clavicles. You didn’t have much to say; mostly because you couldn’t grant language much attention anymore.

Not when he took the strap of your top between his teeth and started pulling it off your shoulder. Baring your skin as his soft voice questioned, “What do you wanna do, then?”

“Mmmmh,” you said, finally managing to sneak your palms onto his broad shoulders. “What can you do?”

Bit by bit, your exhaustion faded. The more he touched you, the more he lit your veins. You felt electrified; sleep was vanishing fast.

“I can do,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the newly naked skin of your shoulder, “a lot.”

“Like what?”

“You know… I can just show you?” His voice sounded so pretty. So alluring and pleasant to listen to; you wanted it to talk you to sleep. “I dunno what you like, though.”

You could barely remember when exactly he’d bewitched you like this; but you didn’t have it in you to care. Only admitted, “I think I’ll like anything you do.”

He smiled. He had a confident laugh — probably knew how gorgeous he looked.

“We can find out. No worries.” His eyes shifted to your top, and then down to your skirt. “Just need to get all of this off first.”

“Mhmmm. The best part.”

The intimate atmosphere settled in the bedroom; strange to think that just a while ago you were standing on a balcony, playing a game. Seemingly harmless in theory, leading to a locked room in reality.

Which reminded you.

He was so eager to take off your clothes so quickly, but you didn’t consider him the type to rush things. Why the hell would you give in so fast then? Allow him that bit when you were sure that man liked to tease?

So your expressions changed when an idea formed in your mind. A mischievous glimmer flickered in your eyes when you proposed, “What if we played another game?”

And this seemed to grab his attention. 

“I’m all ears.”

Your voice dropped to a husky whisper as you pushed yourself off the bed, waiting for him to sit up before you began outlining the rules, “Strip according to correct guesses. We take turns asking questions, and whenever one guesses correctly, the other removes a piece of clothing.”

The idea ignited a sense of thrill in you; perhaps he felt the same. He sat back against the headboard, curiosity lacing his adjective features, and you went ahead and kneeled next to him, hearing an intrigued, “Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Right. We can set boundaries, if you’d like, but—”

“I do trust you. It sounds… kinda fun.”

You exhaled relieved; more keen by the second. “Yeah. I wanted to say it sounds fun.”

Jungkook thought about it for another moment; then, he straightened his stance, exchanging a knowing glance, crossing his arms as he said, “Let the games begin, then.”

You jubilated.

With the air thick with beguilement, you crawled an inch closer until your knees hit his waist. He immediately put a hand on your bare knee, charging the atmosphere.

For a minute, time stood still, his touch warm and inviting. You’d delivered boldness, acting as a catalyst. Further tension brewed between you, simmering at the surface, ready to be acknowledged and explored some more.

“You were going to hook up with someone tonight,” you said. A statement, not a question.

He paused for a second, staring, slowly blinking at you. Hesitation lingered for a good while before he finally mumbled, “Maybe.”

You cocked an eyebrow. 

Despite the fact that Jeon Jungkook was still a stranger, you’d clicked somehow — you liked to think that he’d had his focus fixated on you tonight. That you weren’t just any fling, at least not before the night ended.

So it was oddly relieving when he noticed your questioning gaze, clicking his tongue before he said, “Well, I thought it could happen… but I wasn’t really planning on it. Because anything’s possible at this place.”

You couldn’t bite back your curiosity, and spat immediately, “Are you hooking up with me, because you considered it possible? Were you gonna do it with just anyone? The girl downstairs—”

“Nah,” he was quick to counter, “not her.”

Right.

You believed him with a shrug, licking your lip; watched his gaze follow. He moved closer just a little; as his hazy doe eyes moved back to yours, you knew he was struggling as much as you.

So you fuelled the fire, suggesting, “So I’m special tonight, is my guess. You want me a little more than anyone else.”

He pushed forward — the sudden movement transported his lips so unbearably close to yours, and you flinched. He fumbled with something, and only when you peeked to the left, did you see him taking off a damn sock.

Then, he leaned back again, relaxed when he repeated the statement from earlier, “You’re escaping something tonight.”

Well damn. He didn’t need to go so hard right from the start.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his body further back. Putting a gap between him and you, you crossed your arms over your torso, gripping the hem of your top to slip it off swiftly.

Which seemed to baffle him. The dark red Fenty bra caught his attention — and his breath.

And all he could mutter was a weak, little, “Wow. Going all in.”

“Not yet,” you argued, shaking your head. “But I’m also just trying to encourage you to do the same.”

“Right…”

You cleared your throat, rubbing his dark grey, black shirt between your fingertips. “Your favourite colour is black.”

“Hmmm.” He thought for a moment. And then imitated his action from before, once more eliciting a gasp out of you when he took off the other sock. “One of my favourite colours, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re a coward for this.”

Fucking socks.

Laughing in mock, you ran a finger down his leg. To his knee and then up to his hip again. Only barely missing the bulge very slowly forming under the dark pants.

Breath escaped through his teeth; it seemed that he was a fan of such teasing, because his eyes sparkled.

And then, your brave mind formed this brilliant, easy yet effective idea.

You were already so far gone — taking it a step further wouldn’t be awkward at this point. So you shook your head in disbelief, looking at his feet and then at the fully clothed body.

And the moment after, you lifted your body and straddled him.

Hah.

There it was.

The restrained breath and the clenched fists. The suddenly open mouth and wide eyes; you could play his game, too.

Before he could speak, you sighed at the palpable beauty growing underneath you, remarking a sweet, “What now? Still gonna take it slow?”

“I… dunno,” he said, “make me do it differently.”

You moved your hips over his dick just a little. The movement was subtle but did what it needed to; the tiny moan he voiced was too fucking beautiful to regret and the bulge, while faint, was definitely there.

You loved this a little too much.

With a strained, nearly hoarse voice, he spoke, “You’re a 2000s hit girl. You uh— you don’t like the shit that comes out today.”

His speech kept breaking, and you felt beyond proud of it. If you managed to make Jeon Jungkook stutter even once today, you’d bestow a badass title upon yourself—

“Wrong,” you said with a confident smile; for now, he wasn’t getting what he needed. “I’m a Frankie Valli girl.”

“That’s so hot of you,” Jungkook said. He lifted a finger to your bra, hooking it into the space that connected both cups. Pulled a little. “But. Just fucking take something off, please?”

You grabbed his wrist, removing it from your body. “That’d be cheating.”

“I’ll take off my jeans if you do the same with your skirt…?”

Fuck.

If Jungkook hadn’t been so stubborn with his control, you knew you could’ve made him falter beneath you. Something about him suggested that he was very well able to become a begging mess.

But not today.

Today, you were giving in.

You wetted your lips, clenching your jaw, and then finally said, “...Alright.”

The process of pulling down your skirt was a hassle. You basically pushed your tits into his face as he attempted to kick off his jeans, constantly distracted and letting you know that he was.

He missed your touch as you threw your skirt aside and only breathed out in relief when you found your way back onto his lap.

It felt good, feeling his bare legs against your ass. To diminish the hurdle that his jeans were. To feel his erection pressing into your dampening panties, hard and firm and ego-boosting under you.

You bit back how amazing it felt, because you knew you’d be spilling praises shamelessly all too soon. Somehow, you were sure he’d make you do it — so for now, you kept the craze to yourself.

He, however, didn’t.

“My God,” he whispered. A warm palm brushed along your sides and across your back. Toyed with the hook of your wine red panties before it dropped to the curve of your ass. “You look so good. How did you know I liked this colour?”

Lifting the shoulder he pulled the strap down from, you joked, “I asked around campus.”

To which the roaming hand dug underneath your panties, pulling out a tiny moan as he left crescent moons in your flesh. Soon, his hand was gone again, and he nodded towards you, saying, “Look at you…”

“…What?”

“You’re a goddamn tease, and you don’t even need to think about it.” His hips lifted, pressing against your cunt. “You’re so fucking sexy… you know?”

You didn’t; but it wasn’t bad hearing it out loud. Feigning all poise, you answered, “Business student confidence.”

“Uh-huh. Some of y’all are so stuck up, but… you’re cool. Gotta be good to you tonight.”

You scoffed, affected by his length — were you truly ready to have him ram it into you? Because he felt… huge.

“You…” you began, choking on that word before swallowing the clump and starting anew. “You could just fuck me and leave.”

But he, adamant and eager to stick to his plan, shook his head immediately. Hair flew into his face as he answered, “Nah. I need to leave a good impression.”

What a statement.

Was there a doubt about it anyway? If he’d fucked you and left, you might’ve remembered, too.

But you weren’t going to decline the offer, so you simply challenged, “Do it.”

“Right. Fuck the stripping then.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a beast ready to devour you. He showed early signs of his insatiability when he kissed you first — and now, he still kept proving his point when a harsh hand cupped one of your tits.

He didn’t unhook the lingerie just yet; instead, he tugged the material over your breasts, letting it settle it under them. The change in temperature made your nipples perk, and judging from how he looked at them, he noticed, too.

Because a second later, his mouth hung open; his breathing was stagnant and infuriatingly hot. Lustful and insane, he kept staring at the pebbles, rounding the tip of his finger around a nipple as he said, “You’re full of surprises.”

Your eyebrows furrowed — as far as you were aware, your desires lay in front of him like an open book. 

“How so?” you asked.

“Just. Whenever I think you can’t get prettier—”

Slowly drawn to you, his eyelids dropped. Your hands grazed his naked torso until they reached his jaw, and you cupped his face the moment plush lips wrapped around your nub.

Sensitive.

A wet, burning hot tongue snuck its way through, the tip of it rounding your nipple. When you cracked your eyes open and looked down, inhaling the scent of his hair, his eyes were shut comfortably.

The arched upper lip looked pretty from here; his mouth wrapped around your tit so gorgeously. No matter what he was going to do with and to you tonight, you already knew he’d look stunning doing it.

And you, while driven by the sound he voiced against your breast and the thrown-back head, couldn’t help but feel self-aware. This was the first time you were seeing Jungkook naked; and the first time vice versa.

For a man who’d bared enough pretty women before, were you good enough? Or did he not care, drowning in desire and led by the hardness of his length?

Why were you always like this?

“I’m…” you breathed, tilting your head. “I’m a little insecure.”

Jungkook’s teeth captured your nipple ever-so-lightly, pulling just a bit — then, he sucked one more time before he let go with a plop. He shook the hair off his face, and then asked, “You? You don’t seem insecure at all.”

“That’s what you see,” you said, ignoring the way his breath hit the wetness on your tits. “I have weaknesses, too.”

“Oh… well. Like what?”

“Like. I’m insecure about my boobs.”

He shot a stare down. Analysed them, taking them in — probably the first time properly since he’d pulled that damn bra down. It worried you; was he still seeing something he liked?

Maybe.

Because confused, he wondered, “Why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. And his interest piqued, his voice changed, a little more inquisitive and sober now when he asked, “Has anyone ever said anything bad about them?”

“Well,” you took in the genuinity in his eyes. Starry and sincerely curious; his touch around your waist was gentle. “No.”

Your response didn’t seem to surprise him. Much like he didn’t expect any other answer; at least, that’s what the slow nod, accompanied by a stretched hum, suggested.

“Good,” he said, putting a hand under one of your tits, flush against your ribs, “because… you’re beautiful head to toe.”

This was a fling, you told yourself, but you moved farther and farther from that belief — especially with those praises he showered you in. And the click you’d previously felt, the budding connection…

It was a fling, but boosting your ego, you hoped he was affected by it, too.

What was superior to a hook-up you would remember? One where the other person exuded and demanded respect and trust?

“Thank you,” you told him. A daring finger travelled to his jaw, tracing the sharp line; you’d wanted to touch it all night, and now you couldn’t stop. “You’re pretty, too.”

Slowly, he pulled you closer, wet nipples touching his toned pecs until you were flush against him. Warm… he was so warm.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You smelled the alcohol in his breath, only half as hypnotising and intoxicating as him. Breathing in sharply, your body shivered as you choked out a weak, “Yeah…”

And a moment later, he was kissing you.

Deeper this time, eating you whole. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your own rising; you didn’t need to see the goosebumps to know they were very much present.

This… he… felt too good.

He put his palm on the back of your head, messing up and knotting your hair and angled your face to dive in harder. You could barely breathe with him so close to you.

His torso pressed against you; it felt as though he was squishing your lungs. And this tongue of his — rolling around yours. Lips enclosed yours and made oxygen a foreign concept.

And he only pulled back when you whimpered unintentionally, nails deeper in his skin. As he looked at you, you were long out of it — and it amused him. Made him laugh as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. You didn’t think anything of it felt even remotely wrong.

You answered, “You’re just… such a good kisser.”

“Oh,” he voiced, suddenly all confident when you nodded hastily, still drunk and horny. “Oh?”

“I’m serious. How much practice have you had?”

Jungkook halted for a while. Not to think, you assumed — but his expressions changed. Like he hadn’t planned on gaining practice, and now your question was catching him off guard.

And after a while, he finally said, “Some.”

Not that you could dissect this odd behaviour of his. All you knew was that you wanted those lips back on you — so you led your hand to the nape of his neck, tugging him in as you plead, “I… wanna keep going.”

Spinning just a little, his eyes slid down from your gaze, already parting his mouth. But when the softness of your lips barely touched his, he reclined a little yet enough to dodge your kiss.

“Now wait,” he mumbled, changing back to a smirk. At this point you wondered whether he did it on full purpose. “If you really like it so much, I… can’t just give it to you so easily.”

What.

“Why?”

“Because you’re amazing to look at.” One of his tattooed fingers drifted to your chin and flicked it. “So hungry for more.”

“Jungkook—”

“And you’re an amazing kisser, too,” he said as smugly as an inebriated man could, delighted by your sudden pout, “so it’s not just hard for you.”

“Jungkook,” you emphasised, hissing in impatience, grinding against his erection, “take off that damn underwear.”

“Then guess something correctly about me.”

“Right.” You groaned in frustration, lifting the hand from the nape of his neck to his hair, pulling in slight irritation. With gritted teeth, you spat, “You want me. You want to fucking flip me around like some damn pancake. You want to fold me in half, don’t you?”

In truth, things you wanted. In theory, things you hoped he desired just as much.

“Want to pin my wrists to the bed and pound and fuck me into another universe until you’ve left a dent under me. To bruise my skin and leave scratches deep enough for me to feel tomorrow and… I fucking promise I can give you even more than that.”

Silence.

He stared at you, holding a breath. The sheer disbelief in his eyes satisfied you; the lack of words was soon made up by the twitching package underneath your folds. 

Gulping and unblinking, he ogled at you like you’d handed Area51’s secrets to him; and then, half a minute later, he finally said, “Fucking hell.”

“Wha—”

“That was fucking unfair.”

This made you smile. For once, you were certain you had the same power over him as he did over you.

“C’mon,” you said, once more rolling your hips over his length. A delicious grunt left his lips. “Wanna know what you’re hiding in there.”

He puffed out a breath, kissing his teeth. “Something interesting. You might like it.”

“You’re…” You rolled your eyes, but immediately stopped. It made you dizzy. “So full of yourself.”

“I mean…”

“Underwear. Please.”

It took some begging and a throw of puppy eyes, but this time, he obliged. Chuckled a bit and then patted your thigh, signalling you to get off of him to ease the process.

And once you did, you waited. For ages, it seemed.

Because those veiny hands were as teasing as they were skilled. Pulled down the Calvins torturously slowly.

But when he did… oh, boy…

He was big. Incredibly so.

You felt your heart in your pussy.

“I’m not full of myself, by the way,” he said. “I’ll ask you again in fifteen-ish minutes. Tell me I was wrong.”

You can’t remember anymore, but you’re sure you sat there with your tongue out. Eyes big, drooling, leaning forwards with tits pressed between your arms. Your body was a mess, and he hadn’t done anything much to it yet.

You wanted him to. ASAP.

“Ah,” you voiced, only reluctantly ripping your gaze off that glorious cock to fixate it on his eyes. “So you do want to fuck me for real.”

“Baby,” he paused. Gave his dick a stroke as he pushed towards you, sneaking a hand to your waist. “I won’t leave a piece of your body intact.”

Chills everywhere. The current shot straight down to your dribbling cunt.

You breathed a singular, “Okay.”

And a moment later, you were in his grip.

The fingers previously wrapped around his shaft pressed against your back, throwing you onto the bed in one swift motion. He positioned himself immediately, dropping low to pull your legs apart and lick above your panties just once.

He was ruining them. Fuck.

And… were tongues always so wet? Or was that just you?

Because the panties stuck to your poor pussy like they were fusing with it. And the pad of his thumb suddenly dipping between your clothed folds didn’t help.

“Take them off!” you commanded, so breathy that it was high-key embarrassing.

Your frustration didn’t deter him in the slightest; if anything at all, you thought you saw that dangerous glimmer brighten in his eyes.

He nodded towards the garment, chin so close that it grazed your covered clit. You flinched, though distracted by the absolutely ruthless demand he uttered, “You do it.”

“Why?!”

His tone and expression were cheesy; you were so done with him. “Wanna see you struggle.”

What an ass.

Intentionally, you rolled your hip, shoving your damp pussy into his face before he backed away with a laugh. He allowed you a moment to pull back your legs and stretch them to the ceiling, stripping off the thin barrier once and for all.

It rolled along your legs, and you already knew you’d be having a gloriously horrible time fixing it and putting it on again.

Whatever.

You stored this thoughts for after Jeon Jungkook had railed you to the moon. All good.

He waited for you with his head propped up, fists digging into his cheeks playfully. The Joker–esque smile made you want to wipe it off his face, ideas clear in your head.

Or maybe it wasn’t the smile. Maybe you just wanted to sit on his face.

“Okay,” he said once your legs dropped again, sniffling once before he crawled closer. You wished you could’ve seen how his cock twitched, but he had it sandwiched between his body and the mattress. He gripped your thighs, and then said, “You’re already shaking.”

Your face warmed. You pushed your head into the pillow, shifting comfortably as you positioned your legs on each side of his head. Closing your eyes, you shrugged, shoving all visible timidity away.

“Felt good,” you said.

“I licked you just once. Over those pretty, little panties, too.”

Did he ever shut up?

“So what.” You moved further down the bed, breathing in when his fingers touched your waist, and ordered, “Give me more. Please.”

You heard a chuckle, again.

“Make a mess for me, ‘kay?”

You felt his presence closing in, his hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. Nimble fingers pushed his hair back, but it fell back into his face, teasing your clit along with his nose.

With a tantalising roll of his hips, he matched your desire, grinding into the bed. His perfect ass, a tapered waist and strong shoulders filled your view. Hands pushed your legs apart, driven by a clear purpose.

Your brain was functioning on its last cell — you couldn’t say much more than a hazy, “Not messy enough yet?”

“Far from it.”

Slowly, he kissed your inner thigh, travelling close to your knee and then up again. The pecks were soft, accompanied by the gentlest bites; never too rough. He blew wherever he nibbled; and then repeated the process.

His lips felt like the flutter of butterfly wings against your skin; so tender and sweet. Though you were sure the delicate manner wouldn’t last too long.

You sighed constantly.

“So far from it,” he repeated close to your pussy, brushing along the junction that connected your leg with the rest of your body. “You’ll be twisting soon, I promise you that.”

“Ah… huh—”

Senseless sounds escaped you as he kept his pace slow. Kitten licks soon circled your pussy before the tip of his tongue tasted the dripping arousal between your folds. He used the gesture to part them — that was all.

Because he soon moved to the bottom of your cunt, exhaling against the dampness. You attempted to force your eyes open, but never quite succeeded — you wanted to see him, but you wanted to feel him just a little more.

“All of you is so pretty to look at,” he praised, and you blinked slowly. “Like, genitals are whatever, right? But you’re so pretty.”

What the fuck was he even saying?

No matter.

You’d take the compliment.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, and he chuckled at your vulnerable voice.

You felt the snicker against you when he dropped his wide tongue and flattened it. Started at the bottom where he’d settled, collecting extra saliva that soon flowed down your pussy when he finally moved up.

The touch was expected, but you held your breath. He was soft yet firm against you, and so, so wet. 

You pressed your lips into a line, muffling a moan when he stopped right below your clit. The base of his tongue kept applying pressure, and you literally felt your pussy clench.

He removed his mouth for a moment, patting your sides as he said, “Good. Stay like that for me.” You assumed he meant your lack of defiance; but you were on the edge, nearly closing your legs around his head. “Will make you see heaven, alright?”

“Or hell, really.”

His laughter was constant. You didn’t think you were that hilarious, but his humour aligned with yours. Perhaps, however, you were just still too inebriated and your humour cracked.

But Jungkook, you’d decided, was cool for now.

Especially when he repeated his action. He didn’t curl up or flick his tongue; just licked, never applied more pressure than necessary, because this fucking man knew it didn’t equal more intensity.

He looked up at some point, gauging your reaction, only letting his eyelids flutter shut when you delivered the sound he’d awaited. Jungkook was sure you felt the smile that emerged — it was hard to hide his pride. 

To realise how your fast breathing, clutching of sheets and heavy rise and fall of tits was his doing.

You were too sweet, too awesome, too pretty to not feel proud.

And you were so responsive — he liked listening to your body.

Which you noticed immediately; he was taking in every movement and sound. Actually did. Responded to them, got faster when you reacted, slowed down when you whispered little Nos.

And then, reaching the peak of consent mountain, he asked, “Does this work for you?”

Your nod was immediate, words tumbling out, “Keep going.”

Only, he didn’t quite keep going as you expected — just as your orgasm built up, your exclamations intensifying, he stopped. Rendering you hyper-sensitive.

Nice tactic. Guess that’s what he wanted — to flood you with more craze until he was ready to give you what you needed.

Instead of continuation, his mouth formed a small ‘O’, just enough to enclose your clit. Wet, shiny lips wrapped around the nub and started sucking gently, the rhythm pleasant and constant.

Then, he held his mouth there, tongue licking your clit, like a massage. He was never harsh like you were used to — men had, to your discomfort, even used teeth on your clit before.

Not Jungkook, though.

He was as vocal as you, sending vibrations to your pussy, groaning and moaning expletives as he sweetly confirmed your comfort. All accompanied by dangerous gestures — a pinch of your folds, raising your clit, licking from side to side.

And a minute or two later, he pushed two fingers into you; so effortlessly, so smoothly as he said, “Holy fuck. No friction at all.”

Between the mess he’d predicted, you tittered.

“Are you… this hard, too?”

“God,” he breathed; you felt the shake of his head against your leaking sex, “I’m the hardest I’ve ever been.”

“As if.”

“What?”

The surprise in his voice was funny; filled you with confidence, because he seemed to mean it.

You answered, “You’re good at this. This talk thing and… everything.”

“Thanks. But I’m actually the hardest—” His fingers fucked into you once, interrupting his words to hear you moan, “I’ve ever been. Fuck.” More pumps, not hard or long, but pressing against your walnutty spot diligently. “Shit… come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

Your legs trembled, your lower body drowning in chaos. Your movements were unsteady, but he held you down, aiding you through the progress until—

The snapped coil vanished and the earth-shaking, mind blowing orgasm subsided.

The stars you saw were real — he’d actually caused his very own Big Bang behind your eyes and created a new universe.

Holy fuck.

“Oh, holy fuck,” you repeated, sensitive as hell, brushing quivering fingers along wet thighs.

Jungkook’s cheek was pressed against your leg, and he kept moving to kiss your flesh, rubbing your outer thighs, massaging them gently. He was taking care of you thoroughly — he didn’t come to play for three minutes and then leave.

“Good?” you heard his voice ask.

“Good,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. You were still in your post-frenzy haze, and it truly felt like it would never leave. “Very. What now?”

“Gonna wait a couple seconds until you’re ready to move on. In the meantime,” he moved his body up along yours, leaving a kiss here and there, “wanna know what I had the pleasure to taste?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you wrapped weak arms around his neck, pulling him in almost aggressively as his lips crashed against yours.

Half his body weight fell onto yours, but you didn’t care. Not with this strange, unfamiliar taste against your tongue, sucking it up eagerly. Or the cock, still rock hard, pressing against your stomach.

You wanted him so bad, it hurt. Everywhere.

As he parted, the touch of his hand contradicted the wild kiss — soft on your cheek, feeling your heat, his voice intriguing as he asked, “Ready then?”

“Mhm,” you voiced, “yes, please.”

One more butterfly kiss and an intrigued smile, and he moved away. The missing warmth left your body shivering, and you wrapped your arms around your body, pushing your tits together.

In comfort, your hand settled over your mounds, and you watched as he drew back the jeans half hanging off the bed. He fished out his wallet — from where you lay, you could make out a small murmur. Something about how he was lucky he didn’t lose it.

It made you smile.

And a moment later, he was sneaking back to you again, waving a condom between his fore and middle finger to show it to you. You couldn’t see the size description on it, but… you could imagine.

With his teeth, he ripped it open, moving towards you to replace your touch on your tits. A finger moved around the pebble, hardening it until it stood tall and perky enough for him to swoon.

But… that was also the very moment your drunk insanity hit the hardest.

Whatever triggered it, you still can barely think about it today.

Because a miniscule moment later, you complained, “One of my tits is bigger than the other.”

Which didn’t deter Jungkook; today, you wonder about it — back then, you barely registered his lack of care, his admiration for both sides as he said, “Oh yeah? Let’s see.”

“Promise you won’t find it weird once you notice.”

“I bet I barely will.”

He dropped low to kiss your flesh, fiddling with the nipples, but you pushed his shoulders away again. A confused expression danced across his features, and you shot back a timid stare as you worried, “No, I’m serious. It is strange.”

“No, it’s not. They’re perfectly gorgeous.”

“You… think?”

What a thing to be concerned about. You reached peak awkwardness that night, you’re sure — but he still stuck around.

“Mhmmm,” he voiced.

“Okay, but touch them lik—”

You screeched when he bit into your nub, planting you firmer against the bed. A final, oddly sexy order fell off his tongue, his teeth gritted when he said, “Enough. Shut up.”

And what better way to eliminate all your unspoken words than to start with a delicate brush of his mouth against the expanse of your neck?

There was something about the way his lips felt — taken care of, hydrated, pillowy soft and plush. Did every girl he touched feel that strange tingling sensation, the shiver down her spine?

As he explored the contours of your neck, pressing in, his hands wandered down. You closed your arms around him, pulling him closer, breathing a hushed, “Jungkook?”

No answer yet.

Instead, his fingers purposely grazed down your body before he wrapped them around the length poking your belly button. Distracted eyes met yours for a moment, as if in question, half-lidded when he started stroking the thick shaft.

The swollen lips parted, and you saw his tongue curling in briefly before it peeked out, wetting the dry, rosy pout. His head descended back to your neck, the kisses harder this time. Accompanied by damp smooches and a hot breath.

The tender nips sent waves of sensation through your body.

“Jungkook,” you murmured again.

He groaned against your skin, but looked up properly this time, still pumping himself harder than he already was as he hummed, “Hm?”

“Let me suck your dick,” you finally voiced. “I’ll fucking show you bits of your own medici—”

An innermost wish, lingering in the back of your mind the entire night. You wanted to return what he’d provided. A world-shattering, limb-numbing orgasm; all of him in your throat, thick and salty.

But when you attempted to sit up, he pushed you back again, dick-hand between your clavicles as he said, “Stay like this. You can use that sweet mouth of yours later.”

God. He made those cringey sex talks hot, too.

Your pulse quickened; intensifying a thousandfold when he lifted himself to his knees, looking down with shallow breaths to roll the rubber over his cock.

It twitched gorgeously. So curved, smooth; the colour of its tip mouthwatering.

You wanted him. You wanted him. You wanted him.

When he covered his palm in spit, spreading the saliva over his dick, you reached out. A silent offer to help, but it seemed he was finally done.

Because he grabbed your wrist momentarily, returning to his position over you and pushed one of your legs back. Angling it until your pussy spread for him.

Eyes closed, he came back for another messy kiss, and then said, “I’ll start slow… you tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Did it usually? You could imagine. With the package he carried around, you could truly imagine.

You nodded slowly, grabbing onto his shoulders, already breathless in anticipation.

“I will,” you promised.

“Okay.” He inhaled. Looked down between your bodies again, leading his cock to your entrance to poke it a couple times. Rubbing the tip between your folds. Then again, “Okay…”

The curve slid up to your clit and back down one more time, and a second later, finally—

The head slipped in slowly. Split you and turned the feeling of emptiness into something entirely else within a second.

You hissed, overwhelmed by the change in your body, and he immediately asked, “All good?”

“This is gonna be… you are so—”

A proud smile danced around his lips; they twitched in amusement, but he cleared his throat. Looked at you with a nod and assured again, “We’ll start slow. Don’t forget to speak up… yeah? Lemme know.”

“Mhmmm…”

Your mewls grew in pitch when he pushed further in, taking in your gasps until he was nearly sheathed inside you. And only when you realised he still had a bit to go, did you say, “Wait—”

“Hm? Why?”

He looked concerned and out of it, but listened immediately. The kissing eyebrows indicated genuine care; though the expression changed the moment you said, “I can’t breathe.”

Of all the reasons you’d told him to stop, that’s the last he expected. A laugh tumbled out, breathy and broken.

“See?” he said. “That’s why I didn’t want you to suck me off just yet. You look so done.”

“Shut up.”

He moved — shoved the dick in more. Fuck, you felt every ridge, despite the skin-thin condom. Felt him so deep, you could faint.

Your eyes rolled back, closing slowly as you heard him command, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You did.

“And breathe out.”

You did.

He closed the gap between your lips some more, bottoming out, and wiped the stray hair out of your heated face. His member jerked inside you, shifting, and it made your eyebrows twitch.

The whimper jumped out unintentionally; you felt self-conscious about it.

Not that he minded. 

Quite the opposite.

In the heat of the moment, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, moving down to your tits as he muttered a single, “Fuuuck.”

“What happened?”

“That sound you just made,” he whispered. His breaths against your chest were tempting; the blood-filled cock inside you too still. “My God. So sweet… but so hot. Wanna ruin you so bad.”

“Can’t more than you already did, but… please still do—”

“Are you okay now?”

You gulped. You were. You were longing — he couldn’t see that in your eyes? In the tremble of your hands, laying on his back?

“I am,” you promised, “won’t be more prepared than I am now… Please.”

You held onto the broad back; he was so freaking warm. And so naked.

“So I can move?” he asked.

“Please. Fuck, please do.”

And when he did…

You thought you felt him poking your guts. You knew that anatomically, that was a thing of impossibility.

But he was huge. Heavy. A big fat cock pushing into you in missionary, a hand parting your legs more and pressing them into the mattress.

With your eyes rolled towards the back of your head, you dug your nails into his torso; a little more insane with each rhythmic, punctuated thrust.

He reached so far inside you, fucking seriously—

And those words he uttered. The little praises. The tiny, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Hell…

The alcohol and his body heightened your senses — you couldn’t remember a single affair from your past as rapturous as this one.

The way he provided reprieve, sliding in and out of the slippery smooth entrance. The way his pelvis brushed along your engorged clit. The way he moved swiftly, controlled, applying pressure at the perfect spots…

For someone who could barely think, you registered so many bodily sensations, the little details, how he felt and made you feel. Lighting up your nerves.

Your elevated breathing made your words more incomprehensible when you asked, “Can you go a bit faster? Ple—”

“Wait.” Reaching up, he grabbed one of the two pillows, a hand sneaking under your ass. “Lift.” You did, allowing him to place the cushion under your butt with a grunt. “Hold onto me, baby.”

The new nickname triggered another rush of blood through your body; your muscles tensed when he dug in deeper. Propelled into you harder. Still rhythmic, not jackhammering into you yet, but clearly faster.

And it was enough for you to call out his name.

Which set off another cascade of pleasurable phenomena; gentle tingling to waves of desire. Breathing a foreign concept when he pulled your mouth apart with a thumb, settling his lips between yours.

Tongues played a new game, lips moving to your jaw, back to your mouth; kissing you hard before they dropped to your tits. Suckling at your nipples, toying with oversensitivity.

Pushing you close to the edge as he separated your pussy folds more, dragging every protruding vein of his cock along your aching, lubricated walls.

Jungkook, you had concluded, was a Monster with a capital M. When you moaned for the thousandth time, he glanced at you — and you swore he looked like he wanted to bury his claws into your flesh. To rip you apart.

And you let him.

As your bodies’ movements synchronised, endorphins eliciting unmatched euphoria, half his weight dropped onto yours. His scent engulfed you, and you wrapped your legs around him, up his waist until you whimpered and whined.

“I’m…” he started; he was so hot against you. Bodies covered in sweat. “I love that so much. Those… fucking sounds.”

“Kook,” you murmured — no clue where the nickname had emerged from. But he seemed to like it; buried his fingers in your hair. “Are you getting tired?”

“I’m okay.”

“Can I—”

“You’re okay — you don’t… I mean, you don’t need t— fuck—”

Broken words and a steady rhythm. He felt so fucking good. Sounded even better. Deep sometimes, desperate and high other times.

“I want to,” you said, vocalisation increasing. “Let me do something.”

“What do you wanna do?” he asked.

Okay, another attempt.

“Wanna suck your dick.” His pounding calmed down. You’d struck a nerve. “And… want to come. And—”

“And?”

“Wanna be your slut until you come, too.”

Wait. What?

Where did that come from?

Your face heated up, cheeks and neck burning. Oh, he was gonna laugh at you; after all the bickering tonight, you could imagine that he would—

“Oh, babe…” is what he, however, babbled; dizzy beyond measure.

You had a similar hurricane whirling in your head.

“What?” you wondered.

“Didn’t think I’d find you calling yourself that so hot.” He pushed into you once more. Dragged his cock out and then in again languidly. “My slut, huh?” And then, he was gone. Your pussy pulsated. “Get the fuck up.”

You tried.

Your limbs were wobbly, struggling on the soft surface. And he kneeled over you, heaving his golden chest in exhaustion. His dick hung off his body, the condom drenched; thighs muscular and firm as he watched you fight your own feeble legs.

“C’mon,” he then said, growing impatient.

He grabbed you by your elbow, wrapping his fingers around your arm and gently tugged you up to your knees until you were facing him. Your nipples skimmed his sculpted pecs, one of his palms suddenly under your jaw, even if only for a second.

The touch affected you. Like he wasn’t done or bored yet; like he wanted more.

But—

“You don’t happen to have another condom on you?” he whispered, freeing your shoulders off your hair. He did it a lot, playing with your tresses.

Now that you were sitting up, not wrecked by him inside out, your head cleared a little. But it spun, too — you noticed for the first time in a while how slowly you were sobering up, and how blurred the world still was.

He held you; but you were swaying.

So his words felt like a fever dream to you — a strange question amidst all the mess.

“What?” you said, placing your hands on his stomach for support. “I don’t… I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone.”

Unlike him.

“Well…”

“But I’m on the pill.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Looked at you, hands wandering to your back. He moved closer, the inches fading between you; and incredibly close to your face, he said, “Then we could just go ahead raw. Actually feel each other, right…?”

He pecked the apple of your cheek, gently but menacingly. Danger hiding in plain sight, yet disguised as innocence.

You didn’t answer. Kept staring until he kissed your jaw. Closed your eyes.

“Hm?” he voiced in question, but you didn’t quite know what to say — agreeing would’ve been stupid, but you didn’t want to stop. Plus, you were drunk and stupid.

In hindsight, you would’ve declined anyway; but when he chuckled, shaking his head, you were still relieved. Happy when he said, “I’m kidding.” He moved away, searching his jeans again. They were on the floor now. “I wouldn’t do this to a first-time-fling.”

First time?

Not like you were going to meet again. You were almost fully certain tonight was an exception. Odds bringing you together and saving you from this temporary misery.

In a while, you’d start your new semester and drown in new worries. This party would mean nothing anymore.

“Yeah,” you said.

“I should have another.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet and yet another condom. How many did he store there? “Last one. We’re lucky.” Oh. Okay.

He ripped off the soaked rubber, crumpling it up and stuffing it in the other pocket of his jeans. You cringed in disgust and disbelief, but then you remembered that he was nearly as gone as you; he’d regret it tomorrow, but not yet.

As he placed the condom next to his body, you inched towards him, close to the edge of the bed and ready to devour him.

If you’d known him a little longer, indulging in those shenanigans for some time, the thought of him bringing not one but two condoms to this party would’ve stung.

Because Jungkook had obviously thought this through. Or, as he’d said, at least considered it a possibility.

But you were too drunk, and he too much of a stranger — all you knew was that you wanted, needed to suck his dick.

“But not for too long, okay?” Jungkook pleaded, stroking his length just once. Looking down where you moved like hunting your prey. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

“But I’d love that.”

“Do not. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, and then smiled, straight-forwardly admitting, “Because I’m not coming before you do.”

Jungkook, you’d noticed, didn’t care that you’d already experienced the high of your young life. You were sure you’d never feel such bombastic destruction anymore — but he still seemed to be opting for something far greater.

He truly did prioritise a partner’s pleasure. Left you envious of every one of his encounters before.

You pushed your hair to one side, positioning yourself and dropping low; his cock was way heavier in your palm when you touched it, only weightless when it jumped.

Your fingers grazed along a vein on the base of his shaft, your palm tickling his balls — he reacted.

“Alright,” you finally said before—

The low hum was melodious to your ears when you delivered a momentary kitten lick over his tip. And then, slowly, patiently, your tongue drifted up his shaft, just the sharp tip until you flattened it.

Your fingers gently snuck to his balls, barely touching as you kissed down his member and then repeated your actions; slow licks from bottom to top. 

“That’s good,” Jungkook praised, stroking your ego, “really good, babe.”

Tingles down your spine. Beads of sweat on your forehead.

Jungkook’s hands pushed through your hair, collecting it at the nape of your neck to form a spontaneous ponytail. As the view became clearer to him, the volume of his voice grew — his groans and exclaims sounded beautiful.

And you kept focusing on him. On his reactions, on his body.

Opened your eyes and sought his gaze — pulling the ultimate trick out of your sleeve before you wrapped your mouth around the cock’s head.

And he liked it. He liked it very fucking much.

Enjoyed the slow pace, the way his dick disappeared in your mouth bit by bit until the gag reflex kicked in. You knew what you were doing; with that tongue swirling around, tracing his veins… hands teasing his balls, edging him to the max.

Eyes still on him, breathing through the nose, the tip of it touching his flimsy, trimmed hair.

Your tactic was doing wonders on him. Your enthusiasm was addictive.

And how could you not enjoy it? He was deliciously thick, big, promising. You wanted to swallow around him all night.

But just when he started choking, balls tightening impossibly, he pulled your head away.

His cock was shiny and drenched, much like your lips, drool spilling past them and to your chin.

“Gonna finish this,” he declared with a heavily falling chest, thumb wiping at the spit on your face, “so fucking done with you. Get on all fours for me?”

The contrast between his kind demands or actions and ruthless warnings was messing with you. Like he wanted to fuck you up, but never without consent.

Delightful. So damn delightful.

You listened immediately, turning until you faced the bed’s slat. Whoever this room belonged to, you were truly hoping they weren’t missing their bed. And you’d definitely need to take off the sheets later.

In this tiny moment, you felt bad.

But only until you heard him open the second foil, taking a couple moments to do whatever needed to proceed. You dropped half your body — partly, to allow a better view to your ass, and partly, because you were tired.

“‘Kay,” you then heard, soon feeling a touch along your spine. Tracing it down to the curve of your ass, moving closer and settling around your legs, pushing them together automatically. “So pretty.”

And this very position, just like that, allowed a hell of a lot more friction.

Because when he entered you again and resumed his strokes… your breathing stopped.

You bit your lip, balling up the sheets. Your jaw dropped, your body on fire; the way he gripped your hips, slowly pulling back before slapping his pelvis against your butt was…

Not bad, to say the least.

“Can you still think?” he asked; you weren’t quite sure he’d actually said it, though.

“Huh?”

Jungkook laughed; he sounded so sweet, so pure. So different from what he was doing, a lot more tender than his words, “Thought so.”

And definitely not as alluring as when he leaned in, wrapping an arm around your tits and another around your neck and pulled you up without a warning.

He pressed your back flush against his chest, and your arm flung back instinctively, around his head to draw him close. You didn’t know how he could muster so much strength, pounding into you in a position like this.

Upwards, constantly, consistently, keeping a hand on your neck as the other fell to your clit. You threw your head back; an open invitation to your shoulder and neck.

Like this, he didn’t reach as far inside you — but it was an utmost compliment to him that he was still large enough to affect you thoroughly. A Monster indeed.

His jabs were sharp, moving in and out unhindered; effortlessly. Only stopping a single time when his cock dropped out, and he immediately fell onto the mattress, stretching his legs in front of him and pulling you with him.

“Wait,” he breathed, helping you adjust and sit back on your throne. And this time, as you straddled him, shoving him inside you all the way, you felt him in your guts again. “Move. Come for me.”

Which wasn’t hard to do when he glued your body to his. Traced your cheek, nibbling at the earlobe, down to your jaw, down to your neck and shoulders.

His breath was hot against your flaming skin as you bounced up and down, uncontrolled moans mingling as he drew circles over your clit. Not too fast, not too slow, steady and skilled.

The peak of your pleasure was arriving when his sounds reached maximum intensity; he was close, too, endlessly moaning, chanting your name. Right into your ear, eyes shut tight, muffling his exclaims when he kissed under your ear or bit your shoulder.

“Fuck… fuckkk,” you cried out, muscles of your body contracting. “Close, Jungko—”

The build up was torture — it happened slow and fast at once, and you felt it clearly. It crept from your lower stomach to your pussy, and your walls clenched, your back arching and your body winding in his hold.

And then…

“My fucking god, you—” Jungkook began, irregularly breathing. He was losing it; so were you. “That’s it. That’s it… good. That’s a good girl, you—”

He spoke whatever. Talked you through the orgasm as it washed over.

Violently, hard.

Way worse — or better? — than the first one. Jeon Jungkook was unmatched; no one was going to fuck you this good again.

And a minute later, he followed up.

Let you fuck him, and then pistoned up into you when your body started giving up. And when his release finally occurred, you thought you were dreaming.

He sounded heavenly. His thighs were shaking; you wished you could've felt his hot seed, not separated by the thin condom. 

But his voice… his breaths… the way he moved and held you.

They were worth it anyway.

A minute passed as you winded down; and after the mutual climax subsided, your bodies entered a state of deep relaxation and contentment. You felt it in the way his arms became limp, hands dropping to your legs.

Kisses lazy on your cheek. Strangely intimate.

You felt pleasantly fatigued, satisfaction flooding through your body. The internal rush of warmth radiated outwards; you could’ve stayed like this forever. So tired.

And a tiny bit later, he pulled out as he started softening inside you, pushing you forwards just a little to take off the condom, tie it up and throw it to the ground next to his jeans. Then, he pulled you back in.

For whatever reason.

Seeking warmth? Maybe.

You calmed down in his hold, and then said, “That was amazing.”

You felt the smile against your skin. He had let his face drop to your shoulder, and now spoke quietly and softly, “Because you were amazing. I reacted according to you all the time.”

“And I reacted according to you.”

Jungkook snickered. “We’re a good match, it seems, huh?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand on the arms around you. Slowly and carefully, you opened them, gently falling onto the mattress to get dressed. All of this was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

But you reminded yourself that he wasn’t more to you than a stranger temporarily turned party-friend. That’s what Jeon Jungkook would part from you as, too.

Why the fuck were you cuddling?

You looked back at him, eyes widening; and once you’d taken him in the near darkness, you laughed. Pointing at him with an amused, “You have lipstick all over your face.”

“Really?” He reached to his cheeks, wiping on the wrong side; you cackled a bit more. He nodded towards you. “Yours is very smeared, too.” Pause. An unblinking stare. “You look gorgeous.”

What? No.

Stranger, temporarily turned party-friend.

“Shit,” you cursed, “I have some in my bag, though. I guess we’ll need to take a look at a bathroom mirror anyway before we go downstairs.”

“Or upstairs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook sighed. Shrugged his shoulders, lifting his arms to brush back his hair. The bicep flexed, and you forcefully averted your gaze from it. “Want me to do your make up?”

So lovely.

“Want me to do yours?” you said, legs flinging over the edge of the bed. You still felt a little weak. “You’d look very pretty in pink.”

He laughed; the way his head tilted was still so gorgeous. Movie-like.

“Maybe one day,” he said.

“Right. One day, yes?”

No.

You weren’t doing this to anyone like him. He was carefree, nice and enjoyed the little things in life. You weren’t going to be a burden to someone like him.

You didn’t speak on as you finally stood, trudging towards the bathroom belonging to this bedroom. As you collected your clothes, inspecting your ruined panties, he got up with a grunt, stating, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

And the next minute happened quietly.

He helped you clean yourself, helped you get dressed. Caught you when you oscillated, holding your hair when you drank the water from the tap, sobering up just barely.

After all he’d done to you, the moment was incredibly serene.

And you couldn’t help but think that the connection was certainly there; blissful if you could truly continue it. Clicking with someone wasn’t easy these days, but Jungkook made it seem easy.

Like he’d known you for long, knew you inside out. Like he’d been part of you in a previous life.

You saw his messages the moment you woke up.

Hours later, and you’re still staring at them.

Jungkook [7:43PM]: I’m sorry. I’ll always care about you… and i never wanted to cause you any pain Jungkook [7:43PM]: just wanted to protect you from it

What a way he has to forgo heartache. Funny how it’s insanely present right now.

It doesn’t ease as you hear the desperation in his words. The regret and wish for an alternative reality. If last time wasn’t tattooed into your mind, you’d assume he wants you back.

Truly sucks to know a person well enough to hear their voice through typed text. It sucks, because when they’re not around anymore, their timbre is all that resonates in your head. All that’s left, really.

“Hey.”

The familiar baritone makes you flinch. He went to the tiny balcony a moment ago, inspecting the place, and you didn’t think he’d return already.

You were supposed to look around, too. The landlord left for a brief call, entrusted you with the empty rooms and unpolished parquet. You shouldn’t have wasted your time, you guess.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asks.

You dip your eyes in innocence when you look at him. With the shrug of a shoulder and a slight pout of your lips, you say, “Nothing.”

“Right.”

His side-eye feels like a warning; fleeting, however, as he turns away.

Relieved, your expressions drop again, shoulders falling limp with a sigh. But you don’t quite expect him to move his attention back to you a moment later, a hand on his hip as he catches your descending mood.

The silent stare takes you in thoroughly, studying your face until your eyes drop to the floor. And then, he dares a single step forwards and asks, “Hey. Are you okay?”

Stupidly enough, you retort with another lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You look disheartened. Do you not like the place?”

The place?

It’s still the same space that you approved the moment you stepped in. The same walls you can imagine a life between, away from pain, towards independence.

The ceiling is still at the same height, and when you look out of the sealed windows, you still see the same main street, a building on the other side of it.

The world around you is perfectly fine. Earth still spins at the same pace.

You do still like the place.

It’s just your heart that’s fickle.

“I do,” you say, “no, I can totally imagine being here.” You shift to the other leg, pushing half your fingers into your back pockets. “Anywhere but home, I think.”

“Okay. Do you want to look around more?”

You shrug. “I mean. It’s mostly empty. Except for the kitchen.”

“Which is great!” Taehyung says; his voice echoes off the walls. His smile is contagious, and his enthusiasm about your move flatters you. “Kitchens are expensive as hell.”

“Yeah.”

“I like it here, too. I love Yoongi, but moving here was the best decision of this year.”

Right. You almost forgot that they used to be roommates just a couple months ago.

Back when you made the pact with Jungkook, wasn’t it?

He’d tell you about their bickering at their small dorm again and again. Refreshing, little stories. You wonder how Yoongi feels now, alone at his place — did he ever mention settling somewhere else?

Maybe Jungkook did. Maybe Yoongi will once he’s fully recovered.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with Eun, does it?” you ask, a tiny glimmer in your eyes that must be the trigger for his blushing cheeks.

“Listen,” he says; the back of his hand rubs his face, as if he could rid it of the rosy dust like that. “At least one of you needs to be able to talk to either of us without mentioning… this.”

You laugh.

He isn’t wrong. It has become a running joke in your group; every couple teases the other. Of course you haven’t heard much of it lately — you’re more a victim to silence and moral lectures.

Which you appreciate.

But the recurring thought of this little group splitting… isn’t too nice.

“In any case, I’m happy for you,” you let him know.

“Thanks. It's been nice.” Odd expression; creased eyebrows and guilt in his big eyes. “But anyways—”

“You can talk to me about it, you know?” you assure immediately. Taehyung can’t help but notice the change in your voice. You sound different than a few weeks ago. “It won’t hurt me to know that you guys are doing okay.”

Maturity? Or maybe calmness. No.

What is it that your voice is dipped in?

“I know,” Taehyung promises, “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m bragging. And it makes me uncomfortable that two of my friends are…”

Unable to bask in joy.

Jungkook taught you things that life couldn’t — you could say that calling that influence temporary makes you uncomfortable, too.

“I don’t think you’re bragging, Tae.” You sigh. You hate talking about these things; which is dumb, because you were never one to close off. “Things work out for some and don't for others. That’s fine.”

But he isn’t done. They’re never done.

For a while, you weren’t, either. And right now, you’re caught in the middle — not on the ground, not in the ether.

Just confused. Blank.

“But…” he argues, “they can work out for you, too, you know.”

“Tae—”

“Did you go to the exhibit yesterday?”

You knew he’d ask.

Someone was supposed to — obviously not your parents, still upset deep within. Your house has always been a constant source of obscurity; the white walls don’t deceive you anymore.

The darkness always changes, though steady in gloom, and as you escape the current one, you seek comfort in a friend and the outside world. Questions like these, however, are seemingly still going to haunt you wherever you go.

“I didn’t,” you admit.

He must know, because he doesn’t look surprised.

But the emotion that this very truth evokes in you, a toss-up between feeling relieved and regretting your choice — he does see that goddamn pain.

“Maybe you should?”

It’s a careful suggestion. You don’t know what to do with it, except to ask, “Why?”

“Because he’s still waiting for you.”

It’s cruel. How such words still knock all air out of your lungs.

How those images hunt you down, circling your mind until you overthink them to death, or until they lose their meaning. You hate the ruthlessness of this bitter feeling, and of the sting in your chest, and the longing that it consequently triggers.

The clump in your throat blocks your ability of speech; laces up your tongue. You feel the imminent burst of sentiments in your chest, but then immediately hold it back the way you’ve done the last few days.

You work past the clogged throat, and then say, “He was the one who let me go.”

Holding shit back can be learned; you know how to keep yourself at bay in front of Taehyung.

But.

It still hurts.

“Mistakes happen,” he defends, ever the loyal friend, “he just… makes a bit more of them every now and then.”

You throw a mocking smirk, looking away with a slow blink. Your feet are aching; they want to carry you away.

To him. Home. Wherever you find solace.

How fucking tragic.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, hastening towards you, a grip around your wrist to turn you back to him. “Jungkook, he… has his reasons. Twisted ones but yet. Talking about everything might make it all easier for you.”

Communication is key, blah blah blah.

Once upon a time, you used to believe the same thing. Soft spoken and naive; filled with fears but hoping for the best.

You wondered, “What’s it, really?”

“Trust and stuff.”

Trust.

Thinking about it, you’d always put some of it in Jungkook’s palms.

Like a month ago. Or when you asked him to play pretend. When you stormed into his dorm room every time, and when you met him first, locked in that empty room.

You don’t know how the warmth of that night changed into the playful hostility once the semester started. Maybe because his competent side was a lot more infuriating than his drunk, frat party persona.

Maybe because he annoyed you on purpose, throwing away all pleasantries and sweet, tender words you’d exchanged on the roof. Or maybe because of the embarrassment near the end of the night, embroidered in your brain.

But you’ve always trusted him, you think.

“When I met him,” you say, “I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in such a situation.”

“What situation?”

“…Feeling all that shit for him. Mourning that loss. Just,” your breathing falls in rhythm, and you blink away the dampness. “Craving him, you know?”

Taehyung silences.

He looks at you with empathy and reassurance; a little bit of relief, happy you’re talking to him at all after the numbness you drowned in. Or like he’s caught you feeling something that he knows Jungkook feels, too.

He smiles, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Reminiscing, amused by the memories he never quite found as bad; and then, he asks, “Really, though?”

“What?”

“You never thought you’d ever be trapped in this moment, yeah?”

“Why…?”

“Because—”

His laugh is soft; for a second, he reminds you of the man you transiently saw that very night. Operating the music, careless of every single occurrence around him.

“I could already tell, you know?” Taehyung says. A tiny, nostalgic smile tugs at his plump lips. You lower your head to the dusty floor again. “Back at the frat party.”

Could he?

Not even you could detect a permanent feeling. A connection yes, but you were so sure you’d stick to that one night — you didn’t let yourself think further than that. Did you?

Because you were intoxicated by the booze and the summer air. The conversations and the touches. Jungkook’s scent.

Exclaiming his name while today, you can barely vocalise it.

“I was thinking about the frat party today, too,” you tell him.

He nods, glancing past you. Probably looking for the landlord who’s still not back.

And then, he continues, “When I saw you guys talking on the roof, I knew. I could just tell.”

“We weren’t in love or anything, Tae.”

“I know you weren’t. I mean, you didn’t look like you were, either. But you did look like you bonded… and that’s rare, you know? For people to still share that link after so long.”

“…Don’t know.”

Your stoic ignorance is frustrating. And new.

You’re not one to hide your emotions. Usually open with your happiness and open with your grief. 

“Go today,” Taehyung suggests again, puffing out air, “to the exhibition, I mean. Play around with your choices, okay?” Silence. A press of your lips. You don’t answer, and he can’t read your mind; so he doesn’t prod, and asks instead, “Why were you thinking about the party?”

Easy: because, distraction.

“I was cleaning,” you answer, “clearing my head. Found an old diary while dusting.”

Which was a pure coincidence. It wasn’t supposed to fall into your hands, and you weren’t supposed to open it. Seek out the pages you subconsciously still knew were there.

Why were you cleaning your desk anyway? It was flawlessly organised, dusted by a trusted staff.

It’s crazy.

Insane how even in the tidiest corners of your room, he’s left a mess.

“Okay,” Taehyung simply says, “anyway. Please think about going tonight. And on another note… do think about this place, too. I think it could do you good. And it’ll be nice to have a friend nearby.”

And that’s it. You leave the building with a thankful nod and a genuine smile.

Only to fall into deep contemplation when you arrive home.

Could tonight change something? The way the party did last year?

What exactly did the two of you say to each other? Does Taehyung know it all? Does Jungkook? Perhaps you do, too — maybe you need to dig far enough.

Brooding on the corner of your bed, you shake your head. Get to your feet, scouring your desk, reaching to the very back of every drawer and scanning through every file. Notebook. Diary.

And you don’t stop until minutes have passed, ripped pages falling out of a second semester course book. Its edges are worn out, carried in your bags a hundred times.

But the pages are intact. As slightly yellow as the other ones. You knew you didn’t throw them away.

There it all is; less descriptions, more dialogue — you were tired out, yet kept going.

There, the narrative continues.

Because on that goddamn roof, I think… that Jeon Jungkook truly saw me. You know, it’s been so long since someone did.

The light air brought relief from the day’s heat.

You couldn’t remember how he’d persuaded you to climb up to the attic and then out of its window, leading to a platform to sit on. But as you revelled in the ambient sounds of chatter and distant laughter, you couldn’t complain.

And Jungkook’s conversations kept lulling you into a state of tranquillity. You had no clue how he did it.

“I can do a handstand, and I can show you,” he said; why you’d slipped into talks about athletics, you can’t recall.

“No. You’ll die.”

He laughed, his smirk ever-present. “Would you care?”

You eye-rolled at him, instantly regretting it when the world started spinning again. The effects of the booze were dwindling, but you weren’t quite there yet. Your head and eyes still felt heavy, your tongue still loose.

Maybe he registered your drowsiness, because he soon suggested, “You should go home.”

“I’m okay,” you, however, argued. The night was too serene. “I’m sobering up a little.”

“You look tired, though.”

His words triggered a reflex, and you yawned on cue — unable to hide your fatigue, you admitted, “I am.”

Jungkook drifted closer, arms touching; his voice was light as the wind, and his suggestion as teasing as it was soft, “Wanna sleep on my shoulder?”

“Nah,” you declined, playfully pushing at him, “we’re not that close.”

“We did fuck each other’s brains out just now, though.”

A pleasant reminder, but wholly unnecessary. You doubted you’d ever forget the insanity that transpired downstairs — and once again, you felt incredibly sorry to Yeonjun for ruining one of his bedrooms.

You shuddered.

“We… hooked up,” you argued, muffling a laugh when he scoffed.

“Alright. Whatever.”

His syllables carried a chuckle; contagious and captivating. Mixed with your own, it dragged into the next seconds, lingering as you enjoyed the breeze. Rocking back and forth, gazing up into the vast darkness.

You barely saw the stars in the city and on campus. That’s why you liked those outskirt houses; the sky was clearer here, not disturbed by city lights and their reflection.

And for as long as you were going to remain here, you decided to keep your eyes glued to the glimmer above. Watched it with a melodious hum. They twinkled one after another, like winking, whispering confessions to you from the cloudless, infinite expanse.

Pretty and soft; painting a full picture along with the sliver of the moon you saw. A celestial, silver beacon.

You smiled.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Jungkook said.

Your instrumental died, though one last sound indicated a question, “Hm?”

“You’re liking it here.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Your eyes narrowed in wonder, head on your shoulder. “Why would I not?”

“No, I just mean…” He moved his feet on the platform, shoving them forwards. “You looked different when you got here. Not too happy about tonight.”

“Oh. Right… I’m sorry if it dampened the mood.”

But he shuffled on his spot, wrapping an arm around one angled leg, dropping the other and fully turned towards you. Guaranteed, “No, it’s okay. You were perfectly fine throughout the entire night.”

With him.

“I did have fun,” you said.

“Did seem like it.”

You delivered a hazy nod, blinking your tired eyes.

Even today, you remember the silence that descended, and remember how comfortable you deemed it.

Despite the haven that the roof had become in record time, the retreat couldn’t keep your mind off the bustling world anymore. Thinking about it, even the existence you’d bolted from resided at a suburbian, quiet place like this.

He swam in money, just like you, and you’d seen a similar greenery and heard a similar quietude as you were here. Yet, being with him didn’t compare to being with Jungkook.

Why?

Maybe because that friend understood your lifestyle too well, but not your emotions.

You clicked your tongue, peeking at Jungkook. He lifted his head at the sound, big eyes questioning; and after a moment of contemplation, you finally said, “There’s this guy.”

His ears perked up.

He sat straight, never questioning where it came from; instead, he listened as you spoke, “He and I hooked up during freshman year and then not too long ago. We met through friends, and he’s just… you know, an amazing person and all. Takes care of me and texts me and… keeps asking how I’m doing.”

Fingers of your hands locked, arms firmly enclosing your bare legs.

“He takes my ideas and thoughts and tries to make them more optimistic. Or attempts to actively talk about my flaws. To fix them.” You met Jungkook’s eyes, tender and attentive. “He gives me advice all the time.”

“But?” Jungkook asked. “I think there is a but.”

“Well…” You sucked air through your teeth. “He said he wants to be with me. And I told him that I don’t.”

“Oof…” He grimaced before he hissed, voicing deep empathy for a man he didn’t know. “But why?”

Jungkook was a stranger, but you talked like a soft, hushed waterfall. He emanated a sense of trust; some magic that permeated the air.

You felt comfortable.

“I tried, it’s just. I might sound ungrateful, but I think I’d… rather like someone who wants to love and appreciate me instead of trying to fix me all the time,” you confessed.

There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and you hated yourself for it. The man in question was heavenly — just not ideal for you.

“He is a sweetheart. Keeps buying me gifts and all, but… I think I’m a construction site to him. And that,” you snickered, sporting what you were sure was a sombre expression, “keeps reminding me that I actually am.”

Jungkook paused. You didn’t blame him — it was a sudden revelation, and his possibly still tipsy brain couldn’t quite fathom his thoughts into a response just yet.

He smacked his lips; you’d seen him do it a couple times today. Bangs flew into his face, his eyes suddenly sentimental.

And then he told you, “I understand.” He thought again, looking past you. “I wouldn’t call it ungrateful. I mean, you are thankful for him as a person, yeah? Your personalities and ideologies don’t have to align, y’know? That shouldn’t be an expectation.”

“…Yeah.”

Time ran differently now. The movements you saw in the garden were in slow-motion, but in this dreamscape that the roof was, where you laid out every damn word haunting your mind, the world suspended in time.

It was solacing in some way. Your heart was still clouded, but… you didn’t feel horrible anymore.

“So that’s what you were escaping tonight. Still are,” Jungkook then concluded.

Your mind suddenly raced.

Back to the first words you exchanged with Jungkook; back to the reason for you coming here tonight; back to how delighted your parents seemed when you first mentioned Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok had stepped over your threshold for the first and only time, back during freshman year, they’d enjoyed the sole glimpse of him. Had adored that he’d brought you a silver bracelet, because it showcased wealth.

If you’d let them, they'd have interviewed him — nevermind that he was just a rare hook up and you barely even knew what his parents did.

Lawyers, weren’t they? He’d mentioned lawyers at some point, you thought.

You’d kept it lowkey; away from the campus. You hadn’t imagined he’d come back this year, whirling your thoughts, lost in freshman nostalgia.

To you of all people; and he knew so many. Which is why you didn’t mention his name to Jungkook — judging his and Hoseok’s popularity, they probably knew each other.

“I just feel… terrible,” you eventually said, “because I know he likes me, and I can’t quite say why. We just kept meeting over the years, so—”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Jungkook interrupted. “Like, I’d feel bad, too, but… if the reciprocation isn’t there, it’s not there. And it sucks but that happens sometimes. Things don’t always work out.”

“Yeah. It’s worse when they could, but don’t.”

Jungkook’s demeanour changed. A fog of melancholy settled in his gaze, brief but impactful. If you’d been fully clear-headed, you might’ve registered the slight flinch.

For a second, he didn’t expand on his thoughts, voicing a simple, “Mhm.”

But as the air thinned, affecting his chest and his mind, he couldn’t help but think back to how life had developed for him. From when he was a child and had spotted broken relationships to shattering his own.

Under easier circumstances, love could work. Why had he always been a witness to it crumbling?

“Jungkook.”

Your voice broke his trance. You watched him drift more and more into it, and now that he was awake again, his muscles relaxed. He smiled a little, and then asked, “I can vent if you did, right?”

Eyebrows flashing up, you stared in silence; you didn’t expect this.

“Yeah. Of course,” you said, legs unconsciously lowering towards his. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. Pressed his lips into a thin line; your eyes fell to his mole, and then back to his starry pupils.

Half distraught, half calm — much like you — he began, “One reason why I left that girl downstairs standing was because… she was looking for the first best thing tonight.”

“…What do you mean?”

God, for someone who’d been cheerful all night, he looked incredibly downbeat right now. You felt sorry without knowledge of the context.

He shifted.

“I separated from my ex a while ago. That girl,” he nodded towards the window you’d climbed through, into her general direction, “she knew. And she wanted to use my,” he made air quotes, “loneliness to have fun.”

“That’s… terrible. I’m sorry about your ex.”

Jungkook kissed his teeth, shaking his head, “Nah… we parted on good terms. I just regret that we let the end of it all drag for so long.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. “Do you miss her?”

Prolonged silence later, you darted your head in his direction; he was squinting his eyes in thought. And then, he inhaled the summer air, and said, “Sometimes.” Pause. Then, “Sometimes I miss feeling like I’m… enough for someone.”

Enough for someone. Right for someone.

Jungkook wasn’t missing her. He was missing being loved.

“Time heals all wounds,” you said, nudging his chest, “etcetera.”

With a rub over his pecs, he tugged his lips to a crooked smile, promising you sincerely, “That goes for you, too.”

The exchanged beams introduced another break in conversation.

There’d been a dozen of those pauses today, but none of them had felt out of place. In fact, you felt at peace. Tonight was a respite from the demands of everyday life, because pain faded away.

The still bubble of comfort around you felt like a sanctuary; you appreciated the simplicity of the present.

You thought, there was something about the air. And the stars. And all those scents.

Fitting to the softness of his voice when he eventually spoke, “Hey… You were humming a song just now. When you were looking up?”

“Oh, uh…” You thought about it, rewinding time; he was right. You remembered the melody. “Maroon 5, was it?”

“I think so. How does it go again?”

“Uhm…” Putting you on the spot like this, you forgot every word of the song. You mumbled the melody, du-du-du-ing your way to the first verse, and then sang, “Beauty queen of only eighteen, she—”

His face lit up.

“Had some trouble with herse— yeah!” His finger conducted the two of you through the song before he wiggled it. “Yes, but there’s that part. The ugh— bridge? It’s my favourite part.”

“Uhm, wait.” Fast forwarding, you sang your way through the chorus, close to the bridge until it dawned on you. “Out in the corner in the… broken smile— ah, yeah. I know where you hide, alone in your car.”

Jungkook got into gear, sitting up properly, nearly shifting off the platform. Instinctively, you grabbed his wrist, but he was too into his narrative to acknowledge it, “Yes! Ah, I love that part so much. My mom used to sing it with me when I was in elementary school.”

He was so fucking sweet.

Contrary to every touch he’d delivered today, he was like a puppy. Forlorn and pure and kind.

“That’s so nice,” you said, nodding when he did, watching as he prepared his vocal cords.

“Know all of the things that make you who are— that’s what it was, yeah? I know that goodbyes—”

And then you broke into a duet, falling into a rhythm… catching strangers’ attention wandering around the house’s garden. You weren’t loud enough to disturb the party, but you did see a flash of smile here and there towards you.

Your singing and laughter grew in pitch; you started the last line but never finished it. Instead, you quieted down, hearing his timbre indulge in the song; his eyes were closed and his head tilted. An incomparable spell in his voice.

“—Catch her everytime she… falls.”

Omitting Adam Levine’s soft Yeahs, Jungkook replaced them with hums, and for the teeny tiniest of moments, your heart jumped.

Radiant warmth spread in your lungs. It surrounded your beating organ and tied your throat, and against all you’d expected today, you wondered—

Did temporary, fleeting party-hook-up crushes exist?

As he finished, leaving out the rest of the song, you told him, “You sing well.”

An understatement, but he took it anyway. Blushed a bit as he said, “Thank you.” And then, “Why this song of all you might know?”

Why this song?

You didn’t know. Because you’d grown up with it. Because every second of it, every beat, every melancholic word about hopeful love resonated with you.

“Because,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. A weak smile took over your features. “She shall be loved? Everyone shall be loved.”

Jungkook deadpanned at you. Glassy-eyed. For a couple heartbeats, he blinked at you, and then he broke into a chuckle.

You puffed out a breath; the desire to end the night vanished bit by bit.

That was, until another doom crawled around the corner.

Whenever a day passes flawlessly, misery is close, and this time, it arrived in the form of an older, equally drunk male friend of Jungkook’s.

It was the guy who’d DJ’d prior that night; the one with the deep velvety voice, ogling up at you with a hand in his pocket and a cup in his hand. He made you wonder where your friend was. 

Had Eun left any messages? Perhaps it was you standing her up now; you hadn’t checked the device in a while.

From the garden, the dude — Taehyung, was it? — squinted up into the sky, yelling over the sounds, “Aren’t you the girl from before?” He pointed between Jungkook and you. “What are you two doing up there?”

You felt enthusiasm in your veins. Rapture, leaving your nerves alight. Despite all the sentimental talk, you remembered again that your filter was long abandoned, and with a dazy mind, you leaned forwards.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gotten more of that liquid bullshit after your hook-up. Jungkook had insisted on it — perhaps you should’ve gone for water and sobered up properly.

But as sloshed as you were, you brought out your funny bones, half your body dangerously pressing against the platform as you exclaimed, “I was having the time of my life with this one.”

A thumb pointed back to Jungkook — if you’d seen the man’s expression, you might not have risked your well being like that. Because his hands floated over you, finally gripping your sides with knitted eyebrows when you moved further forwards.

“Hey,” he called quietly, but you were already immersed in the conversation with Taehyung.

“He wanted me to suc—”

“—ceed in every aspect of life!” Jungkook wrongfully finished, leaning in to whisper to you, “I don’t think you should be saying this.”

Okay. Maybe he was a little more conscious about the situation; but you felt too ecstatic to lay down your jokes.

Grave mistake.

People started turning to you. Heard you clearly.

Taehyung, in his own world, still understood, ignoring Jungkook and asking with a laugh, “Really? Lucky son of a bitch.” He halted, and then pointed a finger at you, “Are you the Charmante girl?”

“Uh-uh,” you rejected, “not tonight.”

Fuck.

Even today, you’re adamant on keeping this part of your memories locked.

Because in a few moments, a mess would occur, followed by Jungkook’s kindness, and it would mentally make you push him away.

You just never expected to see him again in the fall.

During senior year, you concluded that he didn’t deserve the chaos of your world, fearing that your connection might destroy the both of you. But throughout all these months, your heart only held back until it couldn’t.

And today, he has wreaked havoc in it anyway.

“How so?” Taehyung asked.

“Because,” you asked. Stress and hangover incoming. Words a rich, popular future heir like you definitely wasn’t supposed to utter. “Fuck that imperium for tonight, okay!”

“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice again. “Lean back. Don’t do this.”

Taehyung shook his head, slowly caught in the awkwardness you called forth. Your deep-rooted trauma was doing a number on you, and you didn’t seem to realise just yet.

“You should go home,” Taehyung suggested; the second tonight.

Why did they want you to leave so bad?

Cocking an eyebrow, you looked at him weird, stoically staying at your place as you bantered, “I don’t want to.”

“I… I think you should, though?”

“You try going home to misery,” you said, laughing through the ache creeping up. Shit, shit. “I’m fine riding his di—”

“Stop it!”

The firm warning pumped sudden intimidation through your body.

Jungkook said it through gritted teeth, hissing it, a sliver of a grunt in his voice. His hands tightened around you and pushed you back up, catching you when you swayed over the edge.

He was irritated; and you were baffled. Puzzled by his concern.

You creased your eyebrows and gulped. Jungkook knew who you were; had confirmed that he did — but he hadn’t spoken about it a single time tonight.

Was he trying to protect you? Why was he trying to protect you?

“What the hell was that?” he asked, lifting his hands off your body.

You didn’t answer.

In fact, you didn’t quite understand the worries anyway. Yes, you had a reputation, but it wasn’t like anyone on campus cared. Right?

Wrong.

Because when you looked down, registering a faint chatter, you froze. Understood why Jungkook had constantly held you back. And why loosening your tongue had been a bad idea tonight.

You wished you could’ve gone back to singing with him. Not live through… whatever crap you’d caused. Nothing you would’ve done on any other day.

But Taehyung had been talking to you — you weren’t thinking anything of it.

The others, however, were. In fact, they were still laughing and recording when they looked down, some of them shamelessly filming with the flashlight on, pointing in your direction.

And there were quite a few of them…

“Wait,” you muttered, eyes flitting from one stranger to another.

Eun had to be inside, because you couldn’t find her face among them. It took a moment — but then, it started sinking in.

“Oh,” you said, and Jungkook, helpless, kept looking at you. “Oh fuck, no.”

“They won’t do any—”

“No.”

Your body felt immobile and it took more exclaims from downstairs that certainly weren’t Taehyung’s to finally move.

As your limbs came alive, you rushed your way back into the attic; humiliated, fire in your cheeks.

Your legs felt wobbly, but adrenaline kept you on your feet. Your mind awoke, your eyes burning. It took a moment to realise you had Jungkook in tow, storming downstairs with you; he was saying something, a soft hand on your elbow that you shook off in panic.

You’d done this to yourself. Stupidly, idiotically. 

Never, never in a million years could you’ve opened your mouth like this in a sober state. You’d trained for this, for fuck’s sake. Knew media attention and how to behave.

The descent to the ground floor took ages; or so it felt.

You traced the faces of the people you’d seen from the roof. Nonstop thoughts of regret flooded you — in the contentment Jungkook’s presence had wrapped you in, you’d lost track of reality.

And now you were rushing from person to person, vehemently warning them and begging them to not put that shit online.

Only to meet a worse fate.

One that, within a moment and without a warning, arrived in the form of a plastered party-goer. Shoulders clashed until you stumbled and fell against a neck-high object. Synthetic plastic bounced against your body, the inflatable pool filled with water and people.

Had they been swimming all night?

Had this thing always been here?

Did it matter anyway when a wave of water broke out of the pool, splashing onto you and half your torso? Probably not.

What mattered was that you were drenched immediately. That Jungkook was still calling your name, albeit further away from you now. Or that a random guy was whistling, mumbling something about your white, soaked top.

Fuck…

Your head darted around; you pushed wet strands out of your face. You weren’t entirely dripping, but enough for people to remember for a while. That was, if they could recall tonight the next day at all.

And if they couldn’t, they’d have it on their damn phones…

Seeking the light crowd, you found Jungkook near the entrance to the house.

He was throwing an empathetic smile, eyebrows scrunched; nibbled at his lower lip and then—

Walked away.

One blink and gone.

You were disappointed. A little hurt. The connection you’d shared felt trivial now; had you enjoyed tonight just to be abandoned by every friend you’d come with or met?

Tears burned in your eyes, there without a notice. In your helplessness, you stood in the middle of the garden. A few people felt sorry for you — you knew. 

And other, selected, a handful ones were too drunk to remain respectful.

The attempt to ignore them remained futile; they kept going.

You tried to search for the elusive people who’d recorded you; another handful who had now vanished into thin air again. Hiding their phones to evade you.

And when your search turned out fruitless, you redirected your attention to instead. She had to be nearby. Or Jimin; you hadn’t seen him tonight at all.

Just as you opted to enter the house, a stranger touched your bicep; reacting swiftly, you instinctively dodged his touch. Disgusted and weirded out.

He didn’t attempt to reach out again, but his persistence to struck your nerves was overwhelming; awkward as he tried to compliment, “That was kinda hot of you to say up there.”

To say what?

That you were a victim to your own imperium — that you were seeking company in others?

What was?

Twisted people, you didn’t understand — as much as you didn’t comprehend your own stupidity.

Your fucking fault.

Feeling a wave of chagrin wash over you, you hurriedly made your way to the door, hoping for another escape; hearing another dumb, “Listen, I’m not trying to offend you, but you—”

The sentence dangled in the air; broken by a sudden interruption. Raw cotton grazed your arm as Jungkook stepped next to you, a white towel thrown over his hand as he intervened, “Enough, man. Don’t.”

His tone was gentle, but held a fragment of a warning. Like he was annoyed, frustrated; tired of the people here.

Surprise was an understatement of a word to you.

There he truly was…

He handed the towel to you wordlessly, a hand on your back. Looked at you with a nod and concern in his eyes. You sighed in light relief, though cringing internally as the water trickled down your spine.

Jungkook sensed your unease immediately; said your name as if to take you away the moment you heard Eun’s voice.

In that moment of gratitude, you felt a renewed sense of a link to him — oddly calm as you said, “Thank you.”

The room you stand in is dark.

You’ve walked through several bright and vibrant halls, passing modern pieces. The ceiling was high so far, so this very room, containing art of the stars and nebulas, hit pleasantly with change.

The dimmed lights match the mood of the paintings; and you’ve noticed that visitors are way quieter in here than they were before.

Probably inhaling the silence of space and time. Diving into a world unknown with a curious fascination.

You glance at your watch, squinting to make out the tiny hands — half an hour left until closing time.

Drawing the millionth breath of this evening, you let your arm drop, curling and uncurling your fingers with a sickening feeling in your stomach. Lightly, you rub the spot, head darting left and right.

For some reason, you expect him in this room.

You can’t quite guess what he might’ve come up with after all; the exhibition showcases various genres and styles, and you haven’t found the room exhibiting his creativity yet.

Seems this isn’t the right place to look either. And you’re getting more nervous with each step.

You scold yourself. This better have been the right decision, because you don’t think you’ll be able to opt out anymore. 

Your soul is still fractured and afraid; but Taehyung’s words float in your mind. Perhaps this will do something. Make clear that you should stay away. Or make clear that you shouldn’t.

Wrapping your arms around your body, you pass more art, more fresh artists, moving to the next room; irritated by how far he seems and of how cold it is here. Museums and their exaggerated air conditioning.

But the shiver the cool air elicits doesn’t compare to the white, blinding, bustling hall. This must be where the main attractions are displayed. Namjoon’s pride, you imagine.

Because people are still talking to the artists. Fingers on their chin, nodding; fancy tote bags and interested hand gestures prove that they’re fat greater art connoisseurs than you.

You don’t need to comprehend techniques and art jargon, though.

All you need to understand is that in the middle of the room, many feet away from you, stands who you seek. Suit-clad, though he has discarded the black jacket, he’s nodding towards other guests, smiling softly to send them away.

They point to his work one last time, and the next moment, they’re chatting among themselves, walking on.

He’s deep in the moment, tracing their steps, frozen in place.

And you, looking at him from afar, are frozen in time. Like everyone around you is barely moving.

Only your blinking eyes. Only his legs as they shift the balance. And then, only his head when he finally averts his gaze and lets it drift over the room. Stops when he sees you, and… 

Remains there.

Your heart jumps; the twisting guts melt and dissipate. Fingers start shaking.

The knot in your throat won’t let you breathe properly; and you think he must be struggling much like you, because even from here, you see him gulp hard.

His longing, sorrowful gaze is killing you. Are you looking at him the same way?

Unsure, you close the gap between your bodies. Slowly, you near him until you’ve become his official guest, taming a wild heart with tense eyebrows.

He’s looking at you like he’s scared to blink. Like you might vanish if he does.

And eventually, you muster the tiniest of smiles, not letting those big, stellar eyes drop you to your knees. But they’re relentless. And…

Red. A little swollen.

“Hey,” you say.

He doesn’t bother for a greeting aside from a little nod. His pink lips are slightly parted, his expression so innocent; so achingly pure. And his voice so weak when he says, “You came.”

“I… almost didn’t.”

He nods lightly, much in understanding. “…I’m glad you did. I’m sorry if my message put you under pressure, I ju—”

“No, no, I thought that— Taehyung told me you’d like it if I dropped by,” you say. Your words are dipped in courage; if he wasn’t looking at you like a yearning puppy, you might not have muttered them. “And also…”

You drop your head, clutching the straps of your purse.

Try not to think of who the both of you used to be.

You clear your throat, gaze flickering up. “I want you to know that I still support you.”

Those puffy cheeks and the younger face, lacking a smile — you’ve only seen that expression before as he slept. When you woke up next to him, observing his dozing form. How helpless he looked. So faultless.

You now know that Jeon Jungkook isn’t perfect, either. But despite all that — or perhaps because of all that — you crave him more.

Because he’s always known he makes mistakes; yet, he’s always been your steadfast anchor.

And maybe that’s all that love ever requires.

No.

Don’t fall back into a spiral.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says. “This means a lot coming from you.”

The first button of his shirt is open; you see the chest rising. The mole on his neck. Last week, in that dark alley, your palm was still covering it. And now, you’re standing at a safe distance.

“So…”

You move, looking past him. The first thing your eyes settle on is a smaller painting.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up, and his tangled fingers let go of each other, open palms gesturing you closer. He steps aside and says, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, please take a look.”

He’s nervous. You hear it in his voice.

Why, though?

There’s no need, considering how gorgeous the sunset is. Perhaps a little standard for such exhibitions, but it still carries his touch. The preciseness and soft details.

You lean in, taking in the colours he worked with. There’s no skyscraper or traffic light in sight — the scenery differs a lot from the city you know.

“Is that your hometown?” you ask.

There are white fences and wide fields. Trees afar, a cottage at the right of the canvas. In the right bottom corner, you see a fluffy little cloud, white and serene.

“It is. Not exactly where I live but… a little outside of it,” Jungkook explains, shifting close enough for his shirt to brush against your elbow. You shiver. “I used to ride my bike to this place and watch the sunset. Took me twenty minutes to get there, so my parents weren’t always too happy about it.”

You laugh quietly, straightening your stance again. Pointing to the tiny cloud, you guess, “And this? Gureum, was it?”

He keeps looking at you. You don’t notice until you register his silence; eventually meeting his gaze that screams affection and tenderness.

Whispers, You still remember.

He catches himself within a second, and then says, “Yeah. Gureum. I’d sneak him into the bike basket and take him with me. He’d enjoy the wind. Jump around there,” he nods to the place in the painting, “and enjoy dusk with me.”

“So sweet.”

You hum in pleasure, ready to move to his other piece.

Most of the artists here are boasting two pieces; some one big object, some several smaller ones. Jungkook settled on the choice in the middle; and you immediately realise that his second work is far more elaborate, in details and in size.

And you’d voice fascination, gasp in admiration — you swear you would.

But what awaits you instead is a masterpiece that renders you mute; baffled, and maybe a little heartbroken.

Because you immediately know what it is.

You remember it from a foggy memory; not too long ago but eternities away.

That day, you brought him and his new boss Namjoon lunch. You chose to barge in as a surprise, sitting on Namjoon’s couch, eyes flitting from artistic canvases to dirty brushes.

Back then, you properly talked about Gureum for the first time. Jungkook was working on drawings, carrying around his sketchbook. You swore you saw a glimpse of something familiar flashing that day, but Jungkook closed the book too quickly for you to decipher it.

And now, it’s here. A damn painting on a museum wall.

A pretty artwork for anyone else, a young, incredibly skilled artist’s talent. But to you…

To you, it’s a peek into what you used to be. And proof of what you’ve become.

You’re hurting. You’re fucking hurting.

“Jungkook…” you choke. You keep staring at it; blink twice; shake your head in disbelief and then voice, ”Wait, what?”

He doesn’t respond. Facing the ground, he’s wading through the pain silently; his bangs are covering his eyes. But your emotions are swimming at the surface of your pupils, an absolute mess.

“Jungko—”

“I had a full speech prepared yesterday, you know?” he says, looking to the side. His jutting lower lip makes your chest burn. “But you didn’t come, and… now you’re here and—” He brings an inked hand to his eyes, rubbing them for a moment. “Now I can’t fucking think.”

You can’t either.

“I didn’t know how to come,” you admit.

You gulp down the tears, looking back to the painting.

The background is blurry, like a rainy window. In focus, you see two hands reaching out to each other. One’s palm facing up, the other’s towards the ground.

Fingertips are inches apart, delivering the illusion that they’re touching without ever doing so. His must be the hand hovering over the softer one. And the latter… It's you. Isn’t it?

Digits reaching out to him, never quite grasping him — the same bracelet around your wrist that he brought you from his vacation among so many other things. Blue and sparkly, no actual gemstones but gorgeous nevertheless.

And in your hand—

Forget-me-nots, slowly drying.

Your memory might not be serving you right, but you think that the brief peep you caught back in Namjoon’s studio was fully blue. Have the flowers withered in his mind?

“What does that mean…” you whisper.

You think you know. But you still wait.

Yet, the only hint Jungkook gives you is, “I had this idea in my head… and the night we drove to that small town and I gave you those forget-me-nots? The way you held them got stuck in my mind and—” He shakes his head. “I knew I wanted to paint them like this.”

“But… you didn’t.”

“Because…” He shrugs his shoulders, but the gesture is anything but nonchalant. The melancholy in his eyes betrays him. “Things changed.”

Right…

That’s why the flowers wilted.

Don’t those blue wonders signify remembrance? True love and devotion?

Does Jungkook think you’re forgetting him? Or that your devotion is fading? That whatever tied you two together is diminishing…?

Whatever used to be a symbol of blooming endearment is now a metaphor for broken hearts. 

But you bite back the sentimental talk, the questions and statements infiltrating your mind. Keep them in, for your and his sake. Hearts need to stay glued together for as long as possible.

No scene in front of a crowd.

So you say, “In any case… It's beyond impressive. You painted it beautifully.”

Jungkook sighs; recovering from the tension of the moment, and then answers, “Thank you. Since I had you in mind, I’m… honestly glad you came.”

“…Of course. Thank you, too.”

The moment you gulp, more people approach Jungkook’s spot. They’re talking to each other before they greet the artist, flashing tender smiles.

When they immerse themselves in his paintings, murmuring something not directed to either of you, you ask, “Should I go?”

But Jungkook’s reluctance emerges immediately. His eyebrows skyrocket, chest tensing; his words are rushed when he tells you, “Oh, you don’t…! You can stay.”

You look around. The hall is emptying; security is leading people out, probably informing them of closing time. And suddenly, you remember that Jungkook doesn’t possess a car.

“Did you take the bus here?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“…I could bring you home.”

Why are you suggesting this? Are your lungs not failing you enough? You’re on edge as it is.

And even when he assures, “You don’t have to,” you shake your head, softly promising that, “Yeah, but it’s no problem. If you want.”

With his turn to glance around, Jungkook licks between his lips. Then, he sneaks a look at his watch, contemplating before he says, “The museum closes in ten minutes, and then I’ll need to find Namjoon. Wrap it all up and stuff. Are you uh… okay waiting for half an hour?”

Are you?

Despite all the pain? You shouldn’t be. But for him… achingly and stupidly, you are.

“Yeah,” you voice, keeping your tone stable. You’re dying of nervousness. “I am. If that’s okay.”

Jungkook nods, stepping to the guests; seems they have a question, waiting for their turn. So he redirects his focus again, giving you a little, “Alright. Thank you again.”

But without ever letting his attention fall from you fully. Not even when you finally step away.

The noises of the streets and vehicles keep the silence away.

Music quietly sounds from the radio, and your finger taps the steering wheel slightly to its beat. Jungkook is staring ahead, sometimes looking out of the window; probably as unsure as you about what to say.

The car comes to another halt in front of a red traffic light, and the silence increases your discomfort. From the side, you watch for a tiny moment as he cards his fingers through the soft, long hair.

And involuntarily, you think back to when you’d bury your fingers in them, too. Would pull him to your lips like that; hear him hold his breath.

Your body trembles, goosebumps on your arms.

You immediately rub at them, focusing on the green light, and once the car comes back into motion, you tell him, “You should save up some money and get a car, too.”

He nods, barely looking at you as he responds clipped, “On it.”

“It’s just late.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. And it’s not that late at a—”

“Just,” you interrupt. He’s right — it’s not too late in the evening. But fall is approaching, and the sky is grey; the sun hides these days. “I’d feel better if you had a car.”

You’re aware that it doesn’t matter what you think or feel anymore, but your concerns still seem to resonate with him; maybe he’d feel the same towards you, too. Because he assures softly, “I’m working on it. Don’t worry.”

Another pause in conversation. Another five minutes pass in silence.

Half of the distance to his place conquered, you grow more nervous by the second. This isn’t a casual get-together or you calmly bringing him home.

Right here, next to you, is literally the man you fell for.

Who confessed his feelings in the pouring rain. Who kissed you through the afternoon the very next day. And who forced you to leave the moment his dam broke.

The one who hasn’t allowed you solace in a while; who touched your lips just once since then, only to shatter every piece of you again.

This is him. Still no one but him.

Equally as nervy on your damn passenger seat as you, going back to an exhibition tomorrow that presents the very hand he used to hold.

This hurts like a bitch.

“Jungkook,” you spit.

“Hm?”

“How long…” You draw a deep breath that comes out shakier than anticipated. You calm your chest. “How long had you been working on this?”

Surprised by your question, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he bites his full lip, toying with its skin before he admits, “Not long. As I said… had the idea for a while, but the day I saw you holding them, I… I kinda cemented that picture into my brain.”

The night of your trip is a firm part of your memory, too.

Piling up bravery, you press your tongue to the palate, clearing your head before you ask, “Why did you make it your main painting?”

Jungkook’s laugh is quiet and insincere. Pained when he answers, “What do you think?”

“I just mean… doesn’t it hurt?”

No response.

You sit up straight, clutching the wheel until your knuckles pale, and try again, “I guess I just didn’t expect you to—”

“What about you?” he questions instead, dodging your inquiry. “Did it hurt you? Seeing it?”

“…Why are you asking?”

“Because I still can’t really decode your reaction.”

Yes… because you’re fighting transparency. The last time you made your vulnerability visible to him, you crumbled. 

But does it matter anymore? You thought tonight would give you a clear answer to what to do; but so far, nothing has changed.

Might as well be exposed.

“Those things don't stop hurting so easily, you know?” you say. Talking proves hard. "But. At some point, you get tired of fighting the pain, and instead, let it happen until it gets better."

“Has it gotten better for you?”

His questions are sudden. Different from his determination to leave last week. He feels vulnerable to you, too, as if he’s fighting himself.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you tell him.

You make a right turn and miss the absolute grief in his eyes. After all the moments you spent together, he didn’t reckon his care for you would escape your mind. But in hindsight, thinking of all the despair he’s put you through, he understands, too.

“Seeing the exhibition today… seeing my piece,” he begins, eyes drifting to his lap, “you still think I don’t care?”

God, your chest feels heavy.

You lift a hand from the wheel, rubbing between your clavicles, but the strange feeling won’t pass. Utter discomfort spreads through your veins, dizzying your head; but you need to concentrate on driving.

You should be almost there.

So you say, “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

To which he dares to ask, “…Why?”

Another stupid traffic light. No excuse to keep looking away, but you still evade his gape.

“Because.” Unblinking, you stare at the tail lights ahead until the red becomes an unpleasant afterimage. "You'll hurt me." Resolutely, "Again."

No answer.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? His reluctance to say something.

Goddamn, you’re frustrated. Uneasy.

“I think the best way to fight more uncomfortable situations is to not talk about them anymore,” you then say, firmly and certain. “At all.”

“Okay.”

You crane your neck to busy yourself, looking for a parking spot when you finally turn into his street. Frustrated when none is empty, you click your tongue, driving around the block in vain before finding a spot near the tiny park close by.

“There goes,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t get off immediately. Much as though he still has something to say, something to plead for. His eyes are staring ahead, his breathing deep.

In your lovesick illusion, you imagine him gritting your teeth and then reaching out, pulling you into a kiss.

But the version of you that wades through reality doesn’t want him to; wants to swerve the pain you’re already combating every damn day.

All he says, however, is a timid, “Thank you for coming today. I really was hoping you would.”

You think back to yesterday, picture a lonely Jeon Jungkook, awaiting your arrival without the desired result. You think of his messages last night, and of the desperation in them.

But you don’t mention any of this. Not his apology, not his yearning.

What you do instead is recall the date, taking off the belt; and when he reacts with surprise, you clarify, “I forgot something.”

You open the door of the vehicle carefully, shooting a glance to the empty road. That’s a cool thing about this area — it’s quiet. You think a lot of families and old couples live around here, because it’s usually serene around this hour.

You get out the moment he does, rushing the one step to the backseat. In a corner, right behind the passenger seat and out of Jungkook’s gaze, you find the same silver object from yesterday.

The silky, shiny paper is soft under your touch as you take it out, and you round the car to a positively confused Jungkook. He doesn’t know what’s awaiting him, but he doesn’t ask; only hums in question.

You brush the non-existent dust off the white ribbon, and then stretch the gift towards him.

Which is when he finally speaks.

“What’s that…?”

Suddenly aware of the gesture, your eyes flit to the object. You try not to stutter but fail, “Your birthday present. I… I had it made a little after you came back.”

He keeps staring at it, like it’s an unidentified item, dangerous to touch. But once he’s caught himself, his muscles relax. He closes his mouth, cautiously taking it from you; the brush of his fingers against yours is warm.

As always.

“You can open it now,” you suggest, “and if you don’t want it, I can just uhm… return it or something.”

It’s hard to return such a present. But you know this might be your only chance to take it back, should he not like it.

It’d be a shame, though.

You watch with bated breath as he nods. Pulling at the ribbon, stuffing it into his jeans pocket before he’s unwrapping the present. He’s so gentle with the paper, as if it means anything.

But if your roles were reversed, you’d cherish every bit that carried him, too.

A moment later, the little, squared thing comes into view.

A new sketchbook, matt black.

His name is golden on it, elegantly and swiftly engraved in the middle of the cover.

“You…”

He utters this sole word. And then looks down again.

His fingertips barely touch the cover for another moment, and then, he ever-so-carefully opens to the first page. It’s an index — has a black and white print of a tiger lily behind a box that says—

To fill these pages with every curve and contour you desire, and to colour them in. Like you do with me. Happy Birthday, Kookie.

His breath visibly hitches. He opens his mouth again, audibly exhaling, eyes glued to the words and reading. Rereading. Internalising them.

The shake of his head is barely there, and you think you imagined it. But when he bites his lip again, an old tiny habit, you start worrying.

Maybe it pains him too much after all. You know that’s what it did to you every time you looked at the wrapped package.

Hurriedly, you explain, “I thought it could be something to remember me by. But I understand if you don’t want i—”

“No, I—” He lifts his gaze, your breathing suspended. His waterline glistens. “It’s an honest present. And you had it made just for me, so I… I’d be an ass to not accept.” He pulls it to his body. “Thank you so much. It’s… incredibly thoughtful.”

“So… You like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I’m glad. Happy Birthday, Kook.”

The peace in your voices is briefly interrupted when Jungkook suddenly raises the hand with the notebook again, speaking louder as he assures, “You didn’t have to.”

You think back to all his little gestures; the stuff he brought you from his vacation. The freaking tattoo on his arm; the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and you see a fragment of the orange and blue.

Even now, he carries around his sentiments for you. You’re not accepting his humility this time.

“I’ve never given you a present,” you say, “there was no way to not do that for your birthday.”

Only tonight, he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve; you can see the heaviness of it, tell yourself you’re hearing its beat. Matching yours. Falling like yours.

But you brush it all away, landing back in reality; once more taking in that you’re actually standing here and actually looking at him but reminding yourself that he and you aren’t what you used to be.

It takes enough strength to believe that he’s here, breathing in the same air as you. You won’t dive into delusions that might crack anyway.

You watch as he nods, putting the notebook into his bag in soft, watchful motions. Careful to keep each corner intact.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are glassier than before. Aching to utter something, preparing for something with an open mouth; words fail him, though.

They have been all evening.

What is he waiting to say?

You halt. Keep standing there. Smiling a little, biting the inside of your cheek. And when nothing comes, you finally conclude, “I should go.”

And that’s it.

That’s when his entire being finally breaks.

Because the moment you walk around your car again, he follows immediately; the rushed steps you hear behind you increase the pace of your heartbeat. Hammering against your throat, loud and clear; your head spins.

Worse and worse when you open the car’s door and he appears behind you, shutting it again with a flat hand.

You don’t know what he wants, but you know you’re not ready for it.

But…

You did come here for answers.

So one inhale. One exhale. You calm your head and unflex your muscles. Let your shoulders fall, shut your eyelids, and when ready, open them again.

Your fingers are still gripping the handle, but your gaze is fixated on your window. It’s darker now, and his reflection in it is clearer, albeit still a bit fuzzy. Doesn’t do justice to his incomparable beauty.

Better for your heart, maybe.

Or not?

Because you still catch his sombre stare, meeting your eyes. His nearing body doesn’t contribute to your health. You promised yourself to not spiral, but you are.

And he’s so close.

Because you feel his breath, hear him so near when he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

Another breath in. You can’t do this.

You stand at your spot with drooping eyes, only half scared that an approaching car might run you over; your other half is dizzy and whispers, “What are you sorry for?”

“That… I hurt you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and— if you want me to shut up… I’ll do it right now.”

You do. You don’t.

He’s tangling up your thoughts; he always has. Does it matter whether he speaks or not? It won’t change anything about your wretched heart… about the sting it suffers.

If he keeps talking now, you’ll dismantle each of his words for the rest of the night. And if he doesn’t, you’ll keep wondering what he would have said.

You wait. Let him decide what he wants to do.

And when he takes your silence as permission to go on, he says, “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I… I wasn’t being completely honest with you.”

Nightlife starts chirping already. It’s getting darker by the minute.

“When I said things have gotten easier for me without you. I lied.”

You swallow, torso nearing the car. You watch as his hand slowly lifts to the vehicle’s roof, close to your face. If you were in such a position to do so, you’d step back, fall into his arms.

Instead, you merely say, “It sounded true.”

“It was true that people are off my back… but. Nothing’s fucking easier without you.”

You gulp; there’s urgency in his voice, and it’s ruining you thoroughly.

You tell him, “It should be a reward. You’ve won more than you’ve lost.”

A chuckle moves a strand of your hair; it’s still not as sincere as you’re used to, but rather sad. Troubled as his words as he asks, “Let me guess… Because it’s just you?”

You only shrug one shoulder, listen as he adds, “You’re a lot more to live without than you think.”

Are you dreaming? Are his words real?

And the subtle, sudden touch, fingers against yours. Real? A fantasy?

You let out a tiny gasp and then hold your breath, seeking his warmth as he grazes your digits. His question is breathy and hushed when it falls, “Can you look at me?”

You don’t know if you can — yet, you oblige. Somewhere in your head, subconsciously, all of you would still do anything for him, no matter how small or harmless of a command.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, looking at his chest. At its rise and fall. At the buttons. You can’t meet his eyes yet. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why…”

“I want to say that I’m sorry. And—” His next words are daring. Incredibly ruthless, uncaring of your heart. And you can’t believe he lets them slip. “I know it’s far too late, but… if there’s a way, any solution to stick here with you after all…”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you raise your head a little, looking at his shoulders with a feeling akin to irritation. Confusion?

“…What could it be?” he finishes.

“I can’t tell you.” You close your eyes when he moves in; once again hearing the pounding of that treacherous organ in your ears. This is driving you insane. “I knew some solutions. They came easy to me, because you… you felt comforting to me, you know?”

You rub your teeth together; your throat feels dry when you comment, “But now I’m caught up in life and—”

You drop your head lower again, unable to finish the remark.

You’re caught up in emotions and craze, you think. They’re creeping in slowly but surely, and consuming all of you. The way he was supposed to.

His touch stops toying with your hand, allowing a moment of relaxation. Only to come back worse.

The back of his fingers rise high, brushing against your cheeks, down to your jaw. You stand in front of him frozen, unable to defend yourself — or maybe, unwilling to refuse him.

You shudder again; it rolls up and down your spine, tickles your brain. Drains your lungs.

You blink your eyes fully open, and then let him lift your chin with a finger.

Two specific syllables of his sentence render you broken to the core, all of you in agony when he asks—

“Did I make a mistake, angel?”

The question echoes through your mind. What happened for him to reflect on his actions and reevaluate his choices?

How did he come to such a drastically opposite conclusion than he did last week?

Has he realised it takes two to move on? To break off things? That none of you is as free as you could be without each other?

That separation and distance fuel pain instead of destroying it?

Your lower lip quivers. Pulling yourself together, you manage, “Yes. You did.”

“Because of the comfort…?”

“Not only. You know why.”

“…Tell me.”

He’s reckless.

Perhaps he’s milking it to lead the two of you to a common understanding. One where it’s clear to either of you that you need each other’s presence around, navigating towards a final verdict.

So, so different from the words that cut you last week.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because,” he begins immediately, “I’m an idiot who chose for us both. I should’ve heard you out, because… this isn’t benefiting us, right?”

“You couldn’t see that before? When I told you tha—”

“I’m an idiot,” he repeats, “who thought he knew what he was doing. And I didn’t. I want to steer towards a decision we can both agree on. So tell me,” he tries again; you sigh. The whiplash is too much. “Why was it a mistake?”

The cool evening breeze rustles through the trees and your hair. The faint glow of the streetlights starts settling in, casting a soft illumination on the surroundings. Helps you see his face clearer.

His words weigh on your heart; you could ramble down a list as to why it was a mistake.

But you settle on the obvious, “Because… I’m working on getting out of my house.” Your voice is tinged with resolution; and the statement seems to surprise him. Eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve found an apartment and… started planning out every detail of how I want it to look and feel. But…”

His eyes fill with curiosity and concern; his voice, despite all the mess, is a soothing presence amidst the uncertainty, “But?”

“But it still doesn’t feel like home… It's strange.”

“Did I feel that way to you?”

“Being with you was the first time in my life that someone or something truly did.” Your words start breaking; your voice a dwindling sound. This requires as much strength as you expected. You take a deep breath. “So yes, you… you made a mistake.”

You wait, working on your tone, steadying it with conviction. And then, you say, “I’ve never needed anyone to survive, you know? I trained myself to be as independent as I can be. Just—”

Your lungs seem to shrink; they feel tight and knotted. Maybe you’re saying too much and not hoping enough. Perhaps that’s the perfect formula for further heartbreak.

But you communicate these thoughts. You will go insane in this little head of yours if you keep them in any longer.

“I crave your comfort,” you mumble. “Whenever I feel like shit or empty, I think— if he was here, he’d know what to say or do. He’d listen. And I hate that. The only warmth I’ve ever known shouldn’t come from you, and I– I shouldn’t be missing you like that.”

You huff out a breath, accompanied by a frustrated and exhausted sound. Your fingers rub your tired eyelids, your head moving to the side. The tips of your digits keep the dampness in, and you focus on proper respiration.

Say, “I hate that I’ve grown to crave you.”

You should’ve known, back in someone else’s bedroom; pressed against him; on the damn roof.

This thing you started with him wasn’t going to end any other way, and you should’ve known.

Wasn’t it the biggest reason you opted for distaste instead? For playful loathing, showcasing it in every class and whenever you met him once the semester started.

It was easier than being fond of him — like when he pulled you to your feet again; back when you were drenched in pool water, staring at the towel he handed you.

“It was much easier,” you echo, “when you weren’t part of my life. I pushed you away with some stupid academic excuse, because I knew we… this would hurt. So much fucking easier to keep you at a distance.”

And when you marched into dorm room 7, asking him for that dumb deal, what were you thinking?

Diving into risks head-first, despite all the knowledge you possessed of your miserable little world.

But the worst confession you might admit to yourself today is that — you’d do it all just the same again.

When you open your eyes once more, you see stars. Might be the rubbing you provided them, or the pupils you’re staring into. They are drenched in enough pain to fracture every teeny tiny bit of your soul.

Desolation swims in your waterline, but you don’t dare to blink; wait until it’s gone back. It proves hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

Almost impossible when he asks, “What do I do to make it right?”

The answer has always been the same, and he has never liked it. What else can you do but to repeat it over and over again, hoping for it to sink in one day and trigger change?

“You open up,” you say, “you tell me how you feel. What you feel.” Your chin trembles; you pull the evening air through your nose. “You stop keeping secrets from me and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I have never opened up with anyone as much as with you.”

And the worst truth is that he means that. No hint of hesitation and deception in his eyes.

It breaks you that this is the most he’s ever been able to disclose. What happened to him that forced him to bury every revelation in his ruptured heart?

His fingers slither to your cheek. He keeps the balmy palm under your ear, as he’s always liked to do. So many habits you caught; all of them pricking your skin now.

“Why have you never before?” you question, hoping for answers. Any of them. “To anyone else?”

His expressions change, much as you expected — feared.

The hand on your face moves a tiny inch, somewhat restless and uneasy. His exhale is desperate. And you, still clueless and suddenly anxious, prod, “Can you tell me?”

Hope trickles through your skin and into his — because for a moment, he looks like he can. There’s hesitation in his stare, but his veiled thoughts seem to sneak to the forefront of his mind.

You’re close, you think.

Unimaginably close to figuring him out.

But then, all the sparkle withdraws again. Like a lightbulb shutting off, his eyelids droop again, and he utters, “I can’t.”

God.

“Why not?”

“Because it hurts.”

“I want to help you, Jungko—”

“You can,” he hastily promises, fretful, as if you’re slipping away again — and maybe, you think, you are. “Just not now. Please just.” He downs the clump in his throat. “Let’s fight through this, because I want you to be able to help me, too.”

Fuck.

Why is this worse?

Wanting the aid, wanting the support; wishing for relief but not being able to accept it.

His lips draw closer, pillowy when they graze yours. Stalling the kiss as he mumbles against your mouth, “Can we fight through it?”

You don’t answer; drop your head to the side. A flicker of your old stars returns, but then it dies again; much like a candle in the wind.

He steps back slowly. Carefully. His chest deflates as he asks, “Is it… because of Hoseok?”

Hoseok?

That foolish conversation you had at the movies; his insecurity and the hints of jealousy. Has he been thinking about it?

Hoseok.

Unbelievable.

Of all things plaguing your mind, Hoseok is the last to keep you away from Jungkook. No. Fucking no.

“What?” you voice louder now, slightly piqued.

But he immediately retreats, kissing his teeth as he assures, “Nothing.”

You’re not done, though.

“No,” you tell him, “no, it’s not him. If it was, I’d chosen him years ago. And last year, I wouldn’t have come to the party but rethought his offer. But— Jungkook, fuck, I’m standing here with fucking you, because you never tried to fix me. Just… you just accepted me. Lived through every fucking day with me.”

He’s surprised. Expected the burst as much as you.

“I—”

A single pronoun escapes him before you interject again.

“It’s not because of Hoseok. It’s because of me. And because of you.” Your breaths are irregular when he caresses your jaw. Your thoughts are jumbled. “It’s because the hurt sits too deep to think about this now.”

“I… I know.”

“I can’t think about it, or anything. Or about you.”

Your forefinger presses against his chest, but his touch doesn’t falter. He keeps his palm planted on your face, another one joining on the other side as he repeats, “I know. I know.”

You’re agitated.

Want him away but closer. Silent but confessing his innermost wishes.

So bewildered, unable to make sense of this. Because what’s happening? Where are the two of you going?

Since that very frat party, what road were you on?

You don’t know. And maybe you shouldn’t think about your timeline. How you developed and how you got here.

But you can’t help it when his thumb comes back to your lips, parting it, preparing for another bittersweet kiss.

Like he always does. Like he did months and weeks ago.

Or…

That very night after the unspeakable humiliation, when he parted from you.

No matter how much you’ve forgotten, you still remember that time’s farewell.

The towel didn’t dry your clothes faster, but you were thankful for the gesture.

Jungkook rubbed your half-damp hair, insisting on helping, and the summer and its heat did the rest. Your back faced the wide bathroom mirror; you didn’t want to look at your miserable reflection anymore.

Eun was standing outside — her folded arms and the tapping finger spoke volumes, and her squinting eyes sought the assholes who’d ruin your night for you.

According to her, she’d already seen you with Jungkook; and not one to spoil your first good night in ages, she’d stayed away, instead looking for a certain blacked out Park Jimin. He was already home again, she said.

Now that you were leaning against the sink, she was seething on the other side of the door. Ready to bring you home; ready to thrash a couple people’s heads, only resisting because you’d told her to.

“Are you done?” you heard her from outside.

You looked up at Jungkook. You didn’t quite understand his willingness to stay with you, but you appreciated it. Stared at him with big, questioning eyes as he said, “Almost.”

“Eun,” you mumbled through the door, surprised when she heard you; hummed. “Could you get my stuff? Just my purse and cardigan.”

No hesitation.

“Where is it?”

“Attic. I forgot it there.”

She didn’t say much; grumbled something and then stormed away, once again leaving you with the kind presence in front of you.

In some way, you hoped you weren’t going to see him again. He was popular on campus, and you were a joke. The rich, little girl who made an idiot of herself at a private frat party.

If he wanted to keep his reputation, he wasn’t going to cross ways with you again either.

Right?

“People are so dumb,” he said, vexed as he put the towel away. “That was an absolutely inhumane thing to do. Thought we’re outta high school.”

You scoffed. “Are we ever?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. Maybe he felt the need to reassure you a little more, because he said, “They’ll forget about this in a day or two. Fuck them and keep living.”

Huh.

It was such a harmless statement, wasn’t it?

But… you weren’t used to it.

What you knew were strategies to help your image; to drown the rumours and delete online humiliation, which would undoubtedly happen again this time. You knew of staff that spoke to journalists or pacified magazine publishers.

But not of encouragements to forget about it and live on.

“Thank you,” you said, timid and quiet.

The way he stood there, leaning back, looking at you. Waiting for you to finger-comb all knots out of your hair… you had to say something. So you did.

“I think I told you so much today, because I needed it out. And you said all the things I needed to hear, so… I truly do feel thankful. For everything.”

More of the dialogue is broken. Your diary didn’t delve into details of the bathroom scene; all leftover pictures your written words evoked today are fragments now.

Like how he looked at you.

A bit of surprise, mixed with endearment. A smile that followed and a nod; one step closer and then another.

Or the tilted head and the tired doe eyes. The thumb that lifted to your lips, parting them — you didn’t know back then that he liked this tiny detail, and that you’d grow to love it, too.

And you recall the way he moved closer.

Leaving a gap between his own lips and then settling them between yours. Unprovoked, unannounced.

Softly, slowly. No craze, no insanity.

Just a touch. Fingers on your jaw, mouth moving just a little.

And then, him backing away again, bringing the night-long conversation to an end until you met again that fall.

“Go home and be well,” he said.  “Fuck everyone else, okay? If they can’t treat you right or love you the way you wish, then just fuck it all.”

You felt hazy and warm. More sober than before, but drunk on confusion.

Something told you that he wasn’t just talking about the immature public down in the garden, but everything you’d confessed on the roof, too.

Hoseok.

You simply voiced, “Huh?”

“She will be loved, right?” he asked one last time. You smiled; the giddy feeling was unmistakably present. “For sure one day.”

Nostalgia is a bitch.

It’s supposed to be a sepia feeling. Comforting and sweet. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

The memory is poignant; you want it back, but you don’t want to trudge through the pain again. You want this to be over. Want to dive through the agony and surface to a better time.

If fate and the world let you, with him by your side.

Is it too much to ask for? You don’t know.

“Can you ju—”

You look at him immediately.

The same doe eyes you know — soft, tender, dry but despondent. There’s not a single tear in sight, but his words and voice still break. The fear in his pause smashes your heart into smithereens.

“Just… once,” he begins, “could you look at me like that again?”

“…Like what?”

“Like you didn’t stop falling for me.”

Still. Everything stays still.

You don’t think you could ever look at him like you stopped. You can’t imagine you’re staring at him right now like you ever did. How do you make clear to him that you orbit around him?

You keep standing still. Not an inch moves; your heart might give out.

Words fail you when his hope collapses and his shoulders drop. A deflating chest, a sigh of dispiritedness; and then, his touch is gone.

He nods slowly, a hand sinking back into his pockets. Clutching the strap of his bag, he steps away, keeping your gaze for a moment before he turns around.

His falling head makes you sick to the stomach; the way he’s walking away, no other word uttered, is gut-wrenching. You know he’ll text you again; thank you for the present at least.

You are so certain he will.

But you hate how this played out. Hate that nothing is resolved.

And maybe it’s that loathing towards this very outcome why you don’t want to leave just yet. No matter how this might end — whether you part or find your way back to each other again.

There’s just one thing you somehow want to remind him of again.

“That night at the frat party… last year,” you start. He halts in his steps, moving to face you. “We were dumb to treat it like nothing.”

He blinks at you.

“It’s where it started, don’t you think? And it’s where we should’ve been truthful with what we wanted already.”

“Why are you saying that now?” he asks.

“Because I just remembered that… you kissed me back then, too. You kissed me like you didn’t want me to leave.”

It’s when your tale already started. Pointing at one outcome: no matter what hurdles, you were meant to end here together, but without the pain, as one unit.

It was clear back then. It should’ve always been clear; break ups were redundant. You know — does he, too?

His gaze feels heavy on you. The silence lingers, tension mounting as he takes in your answer. Doesn’t say a single word until your face is hot and your heart is bursting.

Maybe you’ve pushed him away, wounded his heart. He looks… disoriented. Have you said too much? Or not enough? Did you utter something not true at all?

False.

Because a moment later, his features change; endless longing as clear as the sky when he speaks again—

“Angel…”

Your breath catches; every damn piece of you implodes.

“Stay the night.”

alllllright :’) worth the wait? :’’’) i’m sorry if not but YAY if yes !! tbh, more things were supposed to come to light, but the chapter was already too long, so i had to split it. you shall find out more and get some relief in ‘cmi9: blue’ !! another reason i focused on the flashbacks more was bc… i need us to process the big reveal >:) how was it? what do you think?

as always, thank you so much for supporting this series. it means a shit ton to me that you guys are still here and loving these two as much as i do. as per usual, this one required all my brainpower and my free time, too; so if you liked it or want to say literally anything, please keep interacting with the series – motivation to work on this is always boosted by you guys tremendously !! so please like, reblog (on desktop since the post’s so big!!), comment aaaand send an ask !!! i shall answer them all this time >:O

thank you and i love you. here’s to more <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook series

[i-am-tiny-sun]

Here’s one of my old works 😞 still hunting y’all! Please tell me if you see any of my old works, even reblogs of them! I’m not getting my hopes up in finding all of them, but most of them would be great!

Categories: 💫: old work, 🚞: Tiny’s Thirst Train

Tw: groping (not on reader), dominant female reader, edging, overstimulation, impact play, nipple sucking, hair pulling, dacryphilia bordering into dumbification, and degradation. The mentioned length can be taken as a strap on for pegging or an actual penis (and I made it thick cause it’s what y’all deserve!!!)

Basically, this is Taiju’s submissive awakening after he gets his ass handed to him 💀 Minors, ageless, and uncomfy: I’ll seriously bitch slap every one of y’all. GET OFF THE TRAIN.

Now, Taiju’s used to being the one that’s the dominant guy. He’s huge in height and build (he’s fuckin ripped), he’s batshit crazy, and nothing is dear and holy to him except skull crushing and the word of GD. He’s never been opposed before. The only person he was fine with opposing him was the Lord.

Until now.

He made the mistake of getting mouthy with you after you told him to stop antagonizing his siblings (cause you love them and they love you). You’ve become their unofficial bodyguard if Taiju gets outta control. So in response to his bratty behavior, you yank him by the hair and land a hard slap across his cheek.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you, bitch. Wanna repeat that?”

Taiju was floored like he’d been hit by a truck. For some reason, he senses that somebody’s gettin hit by one right now? He’s stunned into silence, not a peep outta him at all.

“What? Got nothin to say now? I asked you a question.”

He groaned a little bit when you tugged his hair again, but he didn’t understand why he felt a heat forming in his gut from it.

“I oughta punish you..”

Nah, no he McFuckin didn’t just say that shit. You slap him harder this time, tugging his hair again while he moaned. Why did it feel good to be slapped?

“What’d you just say, slut? Say that shit again, I dare ya.”

Wanting to test the waters and see what happens when he defies you again, Taiju takes a deep breath.

“I said I oughta punish you.”

Oh somebody in the world better pray for Taiju cause he’s about to get the pounding of a lifetime. He shoulda just kept his mouth shut, but he’s curious about what’s gonna happen. He’s not used to this, and he’s trying to convince himself that he hates it.

But if he hates it so much, why are his pants suspiciously tighter?

Taiju gasps when you suddenly grope his pecs through his shirt. They’re big enough to basically be F cup tiddies. He doesn’t mind this as much until you start pinching his nipples, but you definitely don’t miss that little moan that he desperately tries to hide. He only gets louder when you tear his shirt open and start sucking on them.

“You’ll punish me, huh? Do it then.”

The Jesus juice must have worn off in this gargantuan bible thumper of a man, cause he actually now wants to be the one being put in his place.

“Go on. Try it.”

Something about your condescending tone that dropped to a whisper and the smirk on your face that dared him to say something else made a bulge start to form in his pants. He hissed when you harshly cupped it, your other hand groping his chest.

“What? This makes you hard, Taiju? Never thought I’d see the day! You like being slapped? Take off your clothes then.”

Taiju didn’t think twice about complying, but he was still just in his underwear, and that wasn’t enough. He needed to be punished.

“All of it. I know you’re smarter than this.”

Part of him felt embarrassed while he stripped off his boxers, but the rest of him was too curious and turned on to care about his apprehensions. Taiju froze when he saw you take his belt. He had a rough idea of what was coming.

“Now get on the bed, ass up. Do not make me wait.”

Knowing better than to argue, Taiju complied. He felt more exposed than he normally did with his ass out for the world to see. Too bad nobody else got to see it. He actually shrieks when you spank him with his own belt, the sting setting in and getting stronger with every other spank. He found himself enjoying it, but was he gonna admit that?

Absolutely not, he’d rather die and face GD before he’ll admit to enjoying being spanked.

“Stop…”

“If you wanted me to stop, then why is your cock throbbing and leaking all over the sheets like a half opened water bottle?”

And Taiju can’t cover up his moans when you keep spanking him. For somebody who doesn’t like to be submissive, he sure sounds pretty when he’s on the bottom, his perky and toned ass turning red with every hit landed on the cheeks. Maybe this isn’t as bad as he thought it was? He sure doesn’t feel like it’s bad. Taiju’s cock is painfully hard and throbbing the longer he takes his punishment.

“Are you sure you want to stop?”

“N-no! Please…don’t stop!”

Taiju realizes that he’s accepted his new position, and he doesn’t think he wants to go back. New to him since y’all haven’t fucked before, but definitely not new to you. He just assumed that he’d be the dominant one, but he knows he’s wrong.

“Oh? And what if I do stop?”

“Please don’t! I’ll be a good boy! I promise!”

He shrieks when you flip him over and cup his cock, wet from his flowing precum.

“Well, if you insist~!”

He’s a mess. He knows he is with the way he’s crying out and begging you to keep touching him. He knows he’s a mess when you stroke his aching dick at a painfully slow pace and he feels close to cumming.

Well, until you take that away from him.

And Taiju whines when you stop jerking him off entirely to leave little kisses along his dick. He wants your mouth, but he knows he won’t get that since he’s being punished. He wonders how long you’ll do this to him, and he starts counting the minutes.

He ends up getting to almost 45 minutes of you jerking his cock, sometimes slowly, and sometimes faster than he can process before you stop entirely. Every single time he’s about to cum, you take that away and leave him high and dry. Poor Taiju doesn’t know how loud he actually was being, but a certain lollipop sucking man can hear it from nearby.

“Hmm? Eh, whatever.”

Who woulda thought that Taiju Shiba could be reduced to a whimpering, moaning wreck? He doesn’t question why you slid your fingers into his mouth, but he does suck them until they’re wet enough. His eyes widened a bit when he feels them prodding at his tight hole. Clearly it’s never been touched.

“H-hey? What are you-“

He cries out when you slide them all the way in, all the way down to the third knuckle. He’s never felt so full in his life, but he’s surprised by how good it feels. Taiju’s almost screaming when you plow him with your fingers and going deep enough to kiss his prostate. He actually whines when you pull them out and slather his entrance with lube.

Oof, do I have some news for him, cause he’s about to be filled up by something much larger. He gasps when he sees the length, and it was a thiiiiicccccc thing. The little pink bullets taped to his dick don’t shock him as much.

“I-is that going in my..?”

“Only if you want it to.”

Curiosity gets the better of Taiju and he nods frantically.

“Please just fuck me!”

The stretch Taiju feels is what he describes as phenomenal, so much that he lets out a high pitched shriek from the pleasure. He’s a little too quiet for your liking when you start to fuck him, so you turn on the little bullets. He hisses, but he can’t hold back his pretty, whiny, loud moans and cries from the added stimulation. You must be torturing him, Taiju swears you’re torturing him. You’re already pounding him like there’s no tomorrow as GD intended, and now you’ve added vibrations to his already incredibly sensitive dick?

“You’re torturing me…I swear you are!”

“That’s the point of a punishment, dear! How else will you learn?”

He whimpers as he cums, but the vibrations don’t stop. You’re still fucking him hard and deep with the strap. Poor Taiju’s probably about to pop, he was already edged for 45 whole minutes and he was finally able to cum, but now you’re brushing against his prostate and making him so painfully hard. So why does he feel like he needs to again? He doesn’t want it to stop though, he’d probably die if you stopped. It feels too good for him to want to stop.

If anybody saw him now, he thinks he’d die of embarrassment. Taiju Shiba, one of the most ruthless people to exist, has been reduced to a whiny, cum-soaked mess.

Taiju gasps when you turn the vibrations up higher and start to fuck his hole faster and harder, but now you’ve started sucking on his nipples. Tears start to form in his eyes from his over-sensitivity as he whines and whimpers. He couldn’t believe that he was actually brought to tears from overstimulation, but he isn’t sure he wants to stop yet.

“Look at you…a little bitch in heat. You were just so pent up, weren’t you, Tai? Is that why you were so bratty?”

He cries out when you massage his swollen, heavy balls.

“You could have just said so instead of acting like that!”

The added stimulation to his balls is enough to drag another orgasm out of him. His dick was an angry shade of red by now, and it was startling how much it ached. You momentarily stop, and Taiju thinks he’s about to have a moment to recover.

Oh how wrong was he?

Taiju sobs loudly when the vibrations are turned up all the way and you’re now hitting his prostate just right and stretching him out so good. It makes his head spin while he sobs and moans, his pleading for a break turning into begging you to continue and make him cum again. Now he’s not making any sense since he’s babbling instead of stringing together a coherent sentence. His pretty face is stained with his tears and his tip was purple now. His nipples are sensitive and red from the sucking and biting.

With a final scream, Taiju cums for the last time. His last load is especially hard and copious since he’s covered his chest and abdomen in cum. You haven’t quite fucked him dumb, but he’s out of it enough that he can’t even think straight. He couldn’t believe how much he enjoyed being dominated.

Taiju has accepted his new position with open arms. He actually hopes he gets punished again if this is what comes out of it.

#i’m crying y’all cause i’m going through so many rabbit holes to find some old work #sub taiju #sub tokrev #🚞thirst train🚞 #THIS COMES AT THE PERFECT TIME SINCE WE JUST SAW HIS BITCH ASS IN THE SECOND EPISODE #this was my first time writing for taiju and I wanna beat his ass but some of y’all like him so here y’all go #💫: old work! #there is a euphoria reference in this if you squint and it involves our queen maddy

[isas-oc-asylum]

Z, X, Y, F, and E for the alphabet soup ask

I immediately forgot I reblogged that.

Z - Zandis Elroy-Osoro-Alvarez

My little autistic Latino vampire blorbo, so full of trauma and gay rage. I think he's by far my fruitiest character, being bigender and polygamous pansexual. Lil angry fruit bat. Pun intended. Also he's in a mafia, like what the fuck is up with him he's the entire Target luggage section.

X - Despite having over 400 OCs, I surprisingly don't have one with an X name yet.

Y - Yami Visata

I debated picking another Y name out of spite because he's low-hanging fruit but how can I not talk out of context to anyone not in my Arboresia discord server about the leader of an interdimensional "cult" full of sociopaths and serial killers who do less killing and more fucking around. He looks like a drag queen and a mad hatter had a baby. He's irrationally afraid of peanuts. He's killed thousands across the multiverse. He gets confused for a girl by his own besties. He has an eye fetish. He needs to calm down.

F - "Flame" Paimon DeLuna

Again I stubbornly wanted to pick a different F name but how can I NOT gush about Cyber's babiest brother who's Satan and poly pan and married to his childhood bestie and big tiddy goth high school bestie. Also they have like 11 kids. Its his husband's fault not his. Who let such an infuriatingly sexy nerd flip his dad's regime in Hell ass over skull and still spend most of his time being a lovable big brother friend.

E - Evee Raposa

Evee (and Flame) were originally OCs of an ex-friend which I yoinked because they were crucial to the development of my OCs. She's the adopted daughter of Wilfre, who found her in an abandoned hotel trapped under a bed with her mouth sewn shut. Long story short, a Fucked Up Guy did Fucked Up Stuff and then left her there for dead. All of it left her growth stunted so she looks like she's like 10 when in reality she's somewhere in her 20s (oh god I've had her so long wtf). She's a small chaotic little shit doing much better now. Wilfre is Arboresia's best dad tbh.

#Zandis #Flame #Evee #Yami #asks and submissions #ask games #well. Wilfre is Arboresia's best LIVING dad. smile #*pats Zandis ominously and hides from my wife*

[wastelandhell]

Not towards you specifically but damn the hypocrisy in the tags drives me up the fucking wall with all the “ew gamerbros and their big ass and tiddie bimbos” while they be reblogging and/or modding some bara bara homoerotica with bdsm gear in their games when I KNOW most of them are fujoshi-like cis straight women that are just as creepy (if not creepier) but shame others for being attracted to curvaceous women. Doesn’t even matter if you’re a lesbian, they just throw some stupid shorthand like “oh hurr durr you’re just trying to impress the gamer bros”. Bitch how?! Are lesbians suddenly not allowed to like the same type of women straight guys do? We all just gotta like the same type of masculine presenting woman or some shit? Back to the closet you go lesbo I guess.🤦🏿‍♀️ Good god and there’s always an excuse for their hypocrisy of shaming others for lusting over women the same way THEY lust over men. Again this isn’t specifically towards you, just had to rant to someone about that kind of crap that I’ll usually get harassed for enjoying. Can’t a bitch enjoy and share her love of bimbos/himbos without the puritans coming my way?

I think you may be reading a bit into me rbing that post, because I agree 100% with all of your points. I firmly believe that everyone should be able to mod their game however they want. Hell, I use extensive tittymods and dozens of tacticool guns with realistic calibers and COD ports all the things that people love to shit on. I don't post my load order because I know I'll be clowned on.

I hadn't checked the tags and didn't realize thats how people were taking it. I thought it was just funny imagery. Hell, I use Fusion Girl with HHS and OCBP, my female player characters look like that.

I /hate/ the amount of hostility people have to tittymods, even within mod communities. I used to do a lot of troubleshooting and helping people set up body replacers on reddit but the poor users were constantly getting dog-piled with "bonk" and "back to horny jail" comments until they deleted their posts. I got sick of it and left.

Honestly thanks for sending me this because I have been seeing a lot of hostility toward 'sexy' mods on my dash lately but have been too much of a coward to say anything. I am with you anon 🤝let people enjoy things.

People love to shit on people that make and use these kinds of mods, but people making outfit replacers and bodymods are the backbone of the fallout modding community, and I think a lot of people who don't dive deep into modding don't realize that. I have found way more help on loverslab than with the puritans on reddit.

#long post #i usually dont like posting opinion stuff because im terrified of being misinterpreted or starting arguments i have 0 hostility to you anon #i agree with your points i hope it came across that way

[mistressemmedi]

ok bestie, your reblogs have my interests piqued; what is kinnporsche?

Glad you asked. Short version: it's a Thai show that chronicles the epic highs and lows of the love story between the son of one of Bangkok's biggest criminal families and the bodyguard that's supposed to protect him. Here's a short trailer for your viewing pleasure so that it sets to the tone.

The long version? Oh boy 😏

Let me give you a rundown of all the characters:

Kinn: middle child and heir apparent to Theerapanyakul mafia family. Massive trust issues. Somewhat emotionally constipated. He loves Porsche very much but is an idiot about it. His ego is big as his tiddies, which are always on display for everyone's viewing pleasure. Obsessed with making gun jokes.

Porsche: bartended turned bodyguard for the Theerapanyakul family. Massive himbo, but we love him for it. Fiercely loyal. Has zero sense of self-preservation. Tends to get himself in sticky (HA!) situations after a few drinks. All around little shit, 10/10 would recommend.

Vegas: our resident little meowfioso. Objectively speaking he's is a garbage human being but that's alright because he's hot while doing it. He is Kinn's cousin and the family issues between him and Kinn is what (mostly) fuels Vegas rage. Tries to pursue Porsche with the same relentlessness of the squirrel in Ice Age who desperately wants that nut. And much like the squirrel, he fails spectacularly at it every time. Also, whips and chains do excite him. He relaxes by torturing people.

Pete: Porsche's bestie, also a bodyguard. Not going to spoil much but... Him and Vegas? More than meet the eye. He's a certified Freak™️. Everyone in the Theerapanyakul compound has seen his ass - including his boss. He's bit of an enigma tbh. Everyone in the fandom is cheering for him to get kidnapped and tortured. Whips and chains do excite him as well.

Kim: Kinn's lil bro. Affectionately known as Kimlock Holmes because he has an investigation/murder wall in his bedroom. He's not too involved with the main family but he is investigating the presence of a mole. When he is not investigating, he plays music, uses copious amounts of lip gloss (seriously, how are the man's lips always so hydrated and juicy????). Because of his investigation, he ends up crossing paths with Porsche's lil brother.

(Por)Chay: Porsche's lil bro. Absolute ray of sunshine. Cannot speak one bad word about him. He is so sweet that every time he's on screen I can feel my cavities growing. Has a crush the size of Texas on Kim.

Tankhun: eldest son of the Theerapanyakul fam. He's allegedly batshit cray cray but honestly? Smartest one of them all. Excellent fashion sense, I cannot emphasize enough how much I would love to raid his closet. Lover of tv dramas and certified fish dad.

There are many more characters but these are the main ones.

The series has some problematic moments (ex. dub con) so if that may be a trigger I'd suggest giving it a skip. It's such a fun series because everyone involved (aside from Chay I'd say) is on some level a terrible human being. They literally lie, kill, torture etc. as their daytime job lmao. The series has its fluffy moments, funny moments, (very) sexy moments and action packed moments. The cinematography alone is just... *chef's kiss*

You can legally watch KinnPorsche on Iqiyi - I think the first episode is available without a subscription here, at least you can gage if it's something that you may enjoy before committing :)

#anon #q&a #kinnporsche #i tried to make this short and sweet

[evanbi-ckley]

I posted 2,068 times in 2022

That's 2,023 more posts than 2021!

93 posts created (4%)

1,975 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@loveyourownsmiilee

@ltleflrt

@monsterrae1

@deanandkastiel

@fellshish

I tagged 1,805 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#911 fox - 302 posts

#buddie - 258 posts

#resqueue me - 189 posts

#destiel - 179 posts

#spn - 152 posts

#eddie diaz - 149 posts

#evan buckley - 144 posts

#jensen ackles - 136 posts

#spn fanart - 110 posts

#destiel fanart - 101 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#sometimes i have to wait until i think of something besides ‘tysm!’ because that doesn’t seem like enough of a response for some comments

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Not my 70 year old mother seeing a con picture of JenMish and saying, “Oh, they’re cute. Are they boyfriends?” 💀

200 notes - Posted February 4, 2022

#4

"I'm gonna be a father"

Oh, Buck. Baby. No. That's not how this works, sweetie 😭

Eddie, get your man, he's having delusions of fatherhood. You need to remind him that he's already a dad to your kid

309 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

#3

“Huh, the spn fandom has been kinda quiet lately…”

Misha: “I’m all three.”

Jensen: tiddies

Jensen: *wears omega*

Jake: omegaverse discussion

Spnblr: FERAL

674 notes - Posted April 23, 2022

#2

I’m not a loud person. Not at all. I’m soft-spoken, and I don’t get overly excited about much.

But you can bet your ass I screamed for Trans Rights Dino at our pride parade today.

4,699 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ao3 is down?? during pride month?????

homophobic.

14,648 notes - Posted June 12, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[godtier]

AI art detection methods: a starter guide

so here it is, my starter guide on how to detect AI art.

to set the tone of this guide: i am not really the type to go full-ass pitchforks and torches and call someone a bad person or dumb for liking, reblogging, or even using AI art for inspiration/mood board/etc purposes without knowing that it was AI generated in the first place.

it has become incredibly difficult to detect these things as the models are becoming more and more accurate with certain subjects. it's why i decided to write this guide in the first place. i take these situations as learning opportunities, to use corpo speak lmao, and so i don't think there's any value in shaming anyone for liking/reblogging smth "SO OBVIOUSLY AI."

they might not have known, so teach them!

after all, everyone starts somewhere, so it's best to help teach when you can! do not use these methods to bully people or falsely accuse people because i will know and be very disappointed in you. >:(

so if you are concerned about reblogging something that is AI-generated, for whatever reason it may be, i can provide some quick[citation needed] tips that i use to detect it with some level of accuracy. this is especially useful when people don't tag their pictures as AI-generated.

PLEASE NOTE: this is not, by any means, meant as a catch-all, 100% success rate way of detecting AI art. learning models are trained off of existing art styles, after all, and you may come across a legitimate artist whose style is widely replicated by algorithms. this can give the perception that the artist is the one faking it.

check your work before accusing anyone. in fact, don't do public callouts unless you have irrefutable proof. a hunch or coincidences are not irrefutable proof. it'll save everyone a lot of headaches if you end up being wrong and you could also potentially damage someone's career (and risk getting sued for it).

a lot of these steps come with the expectation that you will do some legwork to figure out if something is actually a generated image or not. it's not always the same every time and it will rapidly change depending on what model is used and what prompts are used. these are guidelines, not tenets.

anyway, in no particular order:

one: stylistic and subject consistency

if you see a post in which several images are presented in a way that suggests they are a set (i.e.: the same subject at different angles), check for consistency.

a bouquet of flowers should not have the flowers positioned in different ways or omitted entirely between shots, especially if you suspect it's meant to be presented as photography. most photographers won't rearrange flowers between shots unless they're trying to achieve a specific sort of effect. in short, if it's just a few aspects of the subject that are omitted but the general piece looks "the same," it's probably not a photo. if it's presented as a hand-drawn piece, rearranged or missing pieces are also a flag; speaking as an artist, if i were to redraw something at a different angle, i wouldn't omit stuff that should still be visible in the new angle.

it is also good to check the artist's blog for consistency in style; if they are posting a lot of really detailed landscapes in one style and then posting anime-style stuff in another, that can be a flag.

that's not to say that artists cannot have multiple styles (i do!) but it's exceedingly rare that someone who is a wizard at photorealistic ethereal landscapes would also be a wizard at big tiddy animu waifus and amazingly smooth calarts style cartoons. i'm talking like "this looks like it was a cel from an anime" and "this looks like a painting in the louvre." that level of dissonance.

dissonance is key; if it seems weird, be a little wary and look into it further.

two: lighting

AI models often struggle with lighting A LOT. no matter what the subject is, the lighting will oftentimes be incorrect in a lot of pieces. this can be hard for people to notice, but the light source should be consistent.

let's look at an example:

this fellow has a gigantic sun lighting the background. we can see that the background objects (such as what i think are trees?) are lit with that in mind for the most part. however, the foreground appears to be lit from the right (subject's left). with a light source that gigantic in the background, even in a cartoonish style, one would think the subject would be more in shadow, like this:

as a side-tangent, this is why a huge rule of thumb with photography is that the sun should be in front of the subject, unless you're going for a stylistic choice like this. reason being is the sun overtakes the entire frame when in the back.

of course, actual real-life artists struggle with this too! in which case, your best bet is to look at the artist's previous posts and see if there's consistency, as in point one.

three: types of mistakes and other common traits

so one way to check if you suspect a piece is AI generated is to look for the commonly known mistakes or "tells." you want to drill down, basically, from easiest to hardest to detect/notice:

on human/humanoid subjects, the most obvious one (to the point of it being a meme) is how the fingers/toes look. such as too many/not enough, but not done in a deliberately stylized way (i.e.: an anime waifu drawn in the style of genshin impact having 4 fingers is likely not a stylistic choice since it's not a typically cohesive thing to do since everything else will look more "realistic." by contrast, a cartoony phinneas & ferb-style character may be expected to only have 4 fingers and simplistic clothing or accessories).

too many/not enough arms/legs. legs that appear where they shouldn't (i.e.: a character sitting cross-legged but then an extra leg somehow hanging down off a chair, etc).

blurry/uneven lines. this one might be hard to visualize, so the best way i can describe it is when you copy and paste something in photoshop or even MS paint and then move it over slightly. it creates a jagged edge:

here's our happy example man that i drew using a touchpad lmao. he's v happy in the first picture!

but then in the second picture, we can see that he's sprouted a new arm (incidentally, he's still happy)! but it doesn't look right, does it? it's because i copied a selected area and pasted it, then moved it down slightly.

you will find a lot of AI art will have aspects to it that look very similar to this, typically in areas where there's a lot of repetition, like grass or clouds.

weirdly detailed "bloom" or "smoothness" to the point of something looking very artificial, even for an artificial subject. the willy wonka knock-off installation in glasgow used images that are very obviously AI generated and embody this weirdness pretty clearly:

"bloom" is basically a term for nearly airbrushed-looking lighting. look closely and you'll see that everything has this sort of "sheen" or "glow" to it in a way that makes it look very strange and unnatural, but not in a way that looks handmade.

impossible geometry and/or landscapes that don't make logical sense. this one is probably one of the harder ones to detect because it often requires staring at an image for a bit, like a hidden object puzzle. to use the willy wonka knock-off pic again, the waterfall itself doesn't make sense:

where is the water coming from? it appears that it's coming from straight above just going by the direction of the "strokes" there, but as we see, there is no water source feeding this waterfall. it looks like the AI sort of started to create a waterfall on the rocks/grassy part above but got distracted or something halfway through (which is something that happens a lot with algorithms, oddly enough).

background objects that look fine at a glance, but when taken apart individually, are very odd/slapped together.

at a glance, this looks to be just a stock image of someone's drawing of a bunch of US currency and whatnot. but looking closer:

sure is a square-looking dollar bill there!

and on the other image, it appears as though the currency strap is melting/merging into the bill...? along with a coin? or something?

to another point similar as above, algorithms will also do a lot of "like with like." that is to say, they have a hard time delineating between objects when those objects are close to the same color or shade and also positioned very close together. it's often why fingers can merge together into a mush/stump on humanoid subjects. so for that currency strap example, it's a cream-ish color that is very close to the light green seen on the dollar bill design's negative space. this is likely why the algorithm merged them together; it doesn't know exactly what it's doing, so objects will bleed into each other as long as it still gives the impression of the goal object/output.

four: don't beat yourself up over it

in closing, a piece of AI art will almost always look "confident." it'll also almost look perfect and skilled in that way when first looking at it. and though it may be distractingly perfect in that first glance, it will likely look incredibly imperfect when you look closer. imperfect in the way an algorithm would mess up.

that's honestly a large part as to why many people don't pick up on what pieces are generated vs not. these pieces are eye-catching and skillfully presented enough to the point of people not noticing the finer details. the more "technically skilled" a piece is, the more often that people will gloss past the mistakes. how many times have you seen posts where someone says, "i find new things in this piece every time i look at it?" that's why. we're wired to look at the big picture, literally. and that's not anyone's fault. so don't beat yourself up over it or think you're an idiot if you weren't able to tell the difference.

remember: this is an insanely new thing. while image generating itself isn't necessarily new, and programs like photoshop and other image editing software have been using algorithms for many of their functions for probably well over a decade now, this specific type of image generation is still fresh. and it's constantly changing. unless you're in the tech space, you may not even realize the advancements being made, and that's okay! you can always learn more. just be alert and aware, as this will also help you combat a far more sinister issue, which is deep fakes and other false info being spread. double-check everything.

so those are the main methods to start with if you want to try and improve your generated image detection abilities! i hope this post was informative and helpful!

#AI art #learning models #AI algorithms #image post #text post #tutorial #guide #how to #technology #long post

[multistan-247]

GUILELESS

Well.....idk why I decided to write this rn...I missed Toji? I wanted to be squished by his beefy arms and and pressed against his man tiddies? Idk. I'm just horny or lonely or it's just my hormones. This is literally being written out fo nowhere so, fluffy(?) incubi smut it is! It's kinda similar to your werewolf mate bond and stuff, but more spicier and fun hehe

Unedited. Also, soft dom Toji is >>>

Lemme know what y'all think in the comments and reblog for me lovelies <33

Characters: Incubus!Toji × Fem!reader

Tags: MINORS GTFO. (I MEAN IT) NSFW, incubi, smut, virginity loss (?), size kink dirty talking (it ain't Toji if there's no filth), soft dom, fingering, nipple play, mentions of masturbation, hickies, biting and marking, mirror sex (I cannot believe I'm writing this lmao), a lil dab of fluff, cute ass pet names

🏷️: @r1nf4iry

Frustration.

That was the only feeling occupying your body.

A beautiful man with raven hair, sharp, feline like eyes and a small scar on the edge of his lips was haunting you in your dreams since weeks.

"Hey darling."

Spoke a deep baritone, which sent a shiver down your spine.

Every night, you would find yourself on dark four poster king-sized bed with velvet covers, inside a room with blood-red walls, which seemed outwordly and posh.

Thick, stocky arms encased you in between a large chest, as his angelic face breathed down your neck.

His presence screamed danger, but you found yourself somewhat comforted around him.

You're enamoured with the way he is, the way he held himself with authority, as if he knew that he could do anything and no one, no one would be able to stop him.

He'd tease you with little touches, sweet talk and would press his lips to the shell of your ear, telling you how soft your skin was, how small and breakable you seemed under him.

The weird part?

You were never uncomfortable around him. Never. His slow, sensual touches, the shallow of the cut on his lips pressing onto your awaiting, sensitive skin made your brain go haywire, gasping and whimpering, wanting him to go further.

He wouldn't take off even a small piece of clothing from you; but he was always shirtless, muscles bulging from every corner of his body, with only a pair of black sweatpants hanging off his hips as he subjected you to his administrations.

It would depend if he'd allow you to touch him or at times he would pull you over his lap, and let you feel how you made him; his large boner pressing against your core, his lips swollen and red with the hickeys and bites he painted on your neck and shoulder.

But he wouldn't go beyond that. It was almost like he was saving you for something.

It would be nothing more than a small exchange of words, mostly initiated by you but he would put an end to that by pressing kisses against your skin.

You found yourself wanting to know why he stopped before it got out of hand. Why he was limiting himself to just touches and kisses, only on your neck, and nowhere else. Why he was on this secret mission to drive you crazy when he himself was struggling to hold himself back.

You would wake up in the morning and look at the array of purple, blue and pink marks adorning your skin as you blushed in surprise after seeing yourself in the mirror, reminding yourself that it was too real to be a dream.

You knew of his kind.

Incubi and succubi sucked off the life force from their prey as they engaged with them, but you had no signs of energy draining. Infact, you were completely fine and you were practically glowing, since many of your friends pointed it out.

Day by day, you were switching to lighter and more provocative pieces of nightwear just to feel more of his touch; shorts, a tight shirt, a satin nightgown, all without innerwear on. His eyes would gleam with knowing, because he knew he was stroking the fire inside you and making you open up and be more and more comfortable with him.

You had no sexual experience, but that didn't stop you from engaging with a healthy dose of masturbation, but these days? Nothing would give you relief. Nothing would make you feel the hot fire coiling in your belly, nor was it satisfying. Imagining and remembering his touch could do only so much, but it wasn't like the real thing. You found yourself getting turned on for the smallest of jokes, for the most stupid innuendos and you cursed yourself for it, waiting for nightime to arrive so that you could see him.

You found yourself alone, sitting on one of the stools in the bar lounge waiting for your friend to finish barfing her guts out in the toilet. She'd said no when you offered to hold her hair for her as she threw up, refusing as "the smell would be too much and then I'd have to haul your ass out instead".

The bar was relatively full but the ambience of it felt good. There were a few couples here and there and a groups of people talking and every once in a while they would laugh or shout, which would make your head turn.

Swirling the pale pink fruit punch in the glass, you downed it in one go and your eyes drifted back to the door, waiting for your friend but it looked like she wouldn't get out of there any time soon. Your mind quickly uses that opportunity to think about a certain dark-haired man who had made you restless since weeks.

The atmosphere in the bar shifted when a cold breeze of air blowed in as the door opened. You immediately feel a gaze on you, but it didn't make you uncomfortable nor was it scrutinizing. It was as if the gaze was caressing you, like a pair of hands running all over your body, over the square of your shoulders, the smooth planes of your breasts, down your ribcage to the curve of your waist and hips. It was as if you were coming undone.

Heat crawled up your butt and floods in your core and you chastise yourself, remembering that this was a public place.

To distract, you open your phone, going through the recent messages when the bartender comes upto you and slides another glass of the fruit punch with a folded note under it. You notice that the lounge is rather empty & choose not to touch the drink. Instead, you slide out the little note with a neat, manly scrawl which read:

"I knew you were special the second I laid my eyes on you. Thought I'd wait a little more but I don't think I can. Meet me near the building's exit in 2.

- The tease from your dreams"

Your heart sped up in delight, the prospect of finally learning something about him making you giddy. You knew that you shouldn't exactly be dabbling with a creature like him but your curiosity and desire won you over.

You push the black metal door open and step out into the rocky street, looking around for a sign of life but there was none. Panic flooded into your body after learning that this was a trick and before you could barge back in, the door closes with a dull bang and you find yourself trapped against it when you feel a familiar presence behind you.

It's him.

"You're really clever, little one, you know that?"

You jump at the sudden question but a feeling of satisfaction fills you when you hear his voice. You stand silently, staring at the door, desperate for him to make a move.

A half-gasp tears from you when his arms wrap around your middle, tugging you to him until you melt into his embrace. His huge figure swallows you whole (be honest, the mans so effin big), head tucked into his chest even with heels on.

You feel his hard pecs, the large structure of his body pressed against you and savour the raw warmth radiating off him. Your cheeks flush when you're made aware of the heat pooling between your thighs as you're struck by the harsh polarities between the both of you.

Big, hard and powerful, that's what he was. You recall how you fragile you were when compared to him when he held up both your hands above your head with only the press of his palms, all in contrast with your petite, softer and smaller frame.

The heat only grew when you felt the large indent of his cock against your ass.

He laughed a sensual, throaty laugh as he nuzzled into your neck, picking up the scent of your arousal.

"Does the stark polarities between us excite you, little one? Fuck. If I knew that this was all it took to arouse you I'd have done this long ago."

He pressed his body a little more against yours, the action causing you to inhale sharply.

"I have a question." You ask in a meek voice, as if he'd disappear any second if you lifted a muscle.

"Shoot." He says, his nose running down your exposed neck, planting kisses which sent small shivers down your back.

"Should I be scared of you...?"

"Toji."

A beautiful name for a beautiful man, you thought.

"What made you pursue me, Toji?" You ask, testing his name on your tongue.

You weren't prepared for the bodily reaction when you felt the slightest dig of his canines on this one particular spot on your neck when you spoke his name.

A fervent spike of heat in your pussy makes you moan softly.

"This. This connection. It feels right. Almost too good to be true." He says, his voice husky, the musk of his scent doing things to you.

"Is that why you're holding back?" You ask him, wary of his answer.

"That is exactly why I'm holding back. You're too good to be true, little one."

"Really?" You ask him in disbelief, wondering why a man like him would sought out for someone like you.

"You're testing me here, little one. If I could express half the things I want to do to you right now, you'd launch yourself to the hills."

The suggestive note in his voice had your pussy throbbing, and you gulp, ashamed to feel a dampness on your nether regions.

You gasp a little.

"Listen closely, little one. I can't hold my desire any longer. I can practically feel you throbbing so unless you want to be fucked raw on the pavement, I suggest you leave."

His tongue was filthy. And somehow that made you more tempted than you should be.

But you still did as you were told, opening the door back in and closing it, making your way into the crowd in the bar, knowing that it would be worth it.

You stir awake, sitting up on the velvet covers. Toji appears on the opposite end of the bed, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before fixating on your figure.

His jade green eyes dilate, growing progressively darker, the pupil expanding, a naughty gleam shining in them.

You chose to look away, flustered as he rakes over you from head to toe, taking in all the curves and edges of your body. The feminine lavender lingerie was light, the intricate design of it wrapping you up perfectly, the delicate lace encasing your modesty in a way that could be called guileless.

The demon in him was utterly pleased with forethought.

You giggle and slap his chest bashfully when he crawls over to you and puts you on his lap.

He promptly kisses your jaw and moves to the edge of your lips, letting his tongue dart out to lick, a small giggle leaving you.

He swallows your giggle by pressing his lips against yours, as you kiss back, feeling the scar on his lip and deepen the kiss, tilting your head and cup his warm cheeks.

He breaks the kiss and kisses down to your throat.

You hum in gratification and he takes it as a signal to continue.

He presses wet, electrifying kisses and trails it all over, till he reaches this one spot on your neck, connecting to the skin of your throat and bites it with a bit of teeth and kitten licks to soothe the bite, making you shudder.

"There you go." He whispers as he repeatedly kisses, bites and lick the raw spot on your neck and your hands sneaks into his hair, ruffling and slightly tugging on them.

His chest vibrates with a purr and he bites more sharply than before and licks it roughly, sucking on your skin happily, undoubtedly leaving a huge mark.

A shocked moan leaves your mouth as you cream in your panties.

"I- what just happened-"

"Relax, little one. It's okay."

"But- but I just came-"

"Yes, I know little one. That's another physical sign that you're my Gift other than the pheromones." He says, nuzzling in your neck and instantly, you relax.

"Why do you insist on calling me as your "Gift"?"

You pose him a simple question.

"You see, little one, in rare cases, incubi and succubi have mates, supposedly our other half, designed by our creator. The spot I left a hickey right now is where I mark you. I haven't marked you yet. I won't force you to be mine, and if you don't want to do anything with me and my kind, I will walk away and leave you under my protection. It's your choice."

He knows that he answered all your questions, ones that didn't needed answers. He was giving you a choice.

"So you've accepted me? Why?"

A small frowns etches into his face at your question.

"Why? I've accepted it for who you are. You're mine, little one, but it's your decision to take if you want me or not. It's not usual to have a mate, a chosen one who is made specially to cater each other's needs. Someone who fills your other half and makes you whole."

"Woah." You say aloud.

"B-but- I don't even know your last name." You stutter, still processing the onslaught if information he fed you.

"Zen'in. I know, little one. Please don't feel pressurized to answer that question." He says, motioning you to sit in the space between his legs.

He reassures you with his words, acknowledging that you might be shocked with all this new information, and brushes your from your face. Pressed up against him like this, you weren't sure if you wanted to stop seeing this familiarly unfamiliar man. It felt like you'd known him all your life and he had no ill intentions towards you either. He even gave you a choice for you to accept him, as you began to think, basking under his wandering touch.

"T-Toji-" you whimper his name, when his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs.

He takes his sweet time exploring all your skin, appreciating the dips and curves of of your body leaving nothing untouched. He doesn't let go; it's almost as if he couldn't get enough of you. It made your head spin, made you want more.

Without your notice, you'd surrendered to him. You were letting him do whatever he wanted, as long as he touched you. You were in a haze, a haze fuelled by his touch and his touch alone.

Soft breathy moans and whines filled the room.

Yours.

Toji was doing this on purpose, letting you hear your needy grouses as he lets his hands do whatever they felt like.

He was dangerously silent, his heavy breaths and the hard press of his rock hard erection between your rump the only thing you could concentrate on as the blistering heat between your legs grew.

Your hips juts unconsciously, yearning for friction but a deep growl rumbles from him in warning, his hands wounding tighter around you.

Your thighs trembled like leaves as his fingers drew circles, before slapping and squeezing them, plucking a cry of shock from you.

Your breasts felt heavy, pert nipples hardening under your bra, begging for attention, for contact.

"Does this feel good, Y/n? Does it feel nice to be touched like this?"

"Yes." You answer with a soft hum following behind.

Your belly palapitates when his large, veiny hands slither down your ribs and plays with the lining of your panties.

"You've wet yourself." He says, noting the damp little patch on the thin material.

It takes everything in you to stop yourself from moaning embarassedly when his slightly cold, calloused fingers parts your lips, brushing your soaking wet cunt as he pulls them out for you to see.

"You see that? See how wet you are?" He asks, rejoicing the breakout of goosebumps down the side of your face as he whispered in your ear, splitting his slick-coated fingers with the shining web of your arousal.

His knuckle grazes your clit. You just struggle against him, whining, wanting him to go further as he repeats this action until you can't take it anymore and moan out and loud for him to hear.

"Ahh- Toji-"

"Has anyone touched you like this before?" He asks, suddenly, and you could swear you heard a side of jealousy in his words.

"N-no. Only my fingers." You admitted.

"Good."

He was pleased to learn that you knew how to pleasure yourself. It mattered to him more than he thought it would.

He tugs your clit, rubs it, draws rough circles on it and you feel your walls contracting as pleasure fills your senses. You held your breath as his middle finger sneakily enters you and the grind of his thumb goes rougher as he stretches your walls with his thick digit.

His figure swallows you whole, fingers languidly doing their work, but he pulls out only for a second just to trace his fingers on your panties, and they just-

- disappear.

"Perfect." He grins and goes back, fucking your pussy open.

He folds your leg and places it to the side of this thigh, making sure your feet is blocked by it and does the same with your other one, which prevents you from closing your legs.

You could almost cry with how wet you were. Thick, sticky juices begin to coat your walls, a sinful squelching noise echoing in your ears as he stretches you deep, reaching places your small fingers couldn't reach.

When his middle finger comes in contact with a spongy spot, you almost thrash, crying at the sensation washing over your body.

The muscles of his bare body dig into you, reminding you of hard and powerful he was against your small fragileness.

"Shh. Relax, Y/n. Relax and let yourself loose into it, sweetheart. I've got ya."

He says, and your body relaxes into the sound of his words, soft whines leaving your lips everytime he would stop moving. Your fingers dig into his forearm wrapped around your middle, unable to control the moans which seemed quite intent from breaking free from you.

"That's right. You're enjoying it so much, aren't ya kitten? Why don't you look down for me? Look how your greedy little pussy is swallowing my finger, yeah?"

Hesitantly when you do as he says, almost gasping with the way his long finger disappeared into you, whining when the fingertip brushed against that spot again.

"Fuck. I knew you were special, Y/n. Right when I saw you in that pretty white dress in that birthday party. A fucking angel between the crowd of sinners. Not that I'm a saint, but I wished I could be that dress. So fucking much."

Your breath hitches when his hands reach for your bra.

"Relax, sweetheart. I won't hurt ya. I wouldn't even be able to hurt you even if you weren't my little Gift."

"Why?" You ask, curious even in your lust-filled haze.

It was a simple question, one Toji didn't mind answering as he continued to add another finger inside you as he hears your gasp.

"You're one of those. You're one of those humans who manage to have a ray of hope in then even when their life is in shambles, the ones who are often the most wonderful people but also the ones who suffer the brunt in life, but you eventually come out victorious. That's what makes you so special, and your life force never drains."

The sincerity in his voice warms your heart, the blush deepening in color when he eases the cups of your bra aside, hard peaks stiffening in the cold air.

"You're way more beautiful than I imagined."

He says, breathless as he meets your eyes in the mirror which has suddenly apparated in front of you.

"Toji-" you start, shying away but he shushes you by bringing his fingers back into you.

"Just watch, little one. I want you to know how good this can feel." He says, watching with hooded hues.

So, you watch. You watch as his fingers disappear into your red, swollen pussy and moan his name as he takes your nipple between his pointer and middle finger and tugs on it with titillating eyes, as you bite down on your lip.

"You're practically begging me to ravage you on the bed if you're gonna continue doing that."

You blush even more if possible.

A pleasurable, sweet kind of pressure starts to build in your lower stomach, as his fingers keep fucking you, his other hand playing with you, alternating between your tits and clitoris.

Just when you think you're on the edge, he pulls out his fingers, a small protesting whimper leaving you.

"Suck." He orders, bringing his slick-coated fingers to your bottom lip.

You do as told as your decadent lips wrap around his fingers, hot mouth licking his fingers clean of your own essence, maintaining his gaze in the mirror.

"You're naughtier than I thought, kitten. Maybe you and I are meant to be afterall." He grins, pushing his fingers back in, hitting your g-spot again.

He gazes at your quivering body in the mirror, knowing you were ready to release for him.

"Look at me in the mirror, kitten. Look how I'm playing with you and you're enjoying it. So fucking much."

"Your greedy little pussy is so tight around my fingers."

"Look at that needy cunt, making a mess on the sheets as I fuck her with my fingers. Your nipples don't seem to soften at all. Do they need some attention too?"

He keeps breathing filthy words as such into your ear, reducing your thinking capacity to nil.

You feel your pussy contract repeatedly as the blistering heat in your tummy begins to release, your arousal getting syrupy and Toji adds his thumb to the mix, hitting your g-spot and flicking your clit all at the same time, earning a loud moan from you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart. Look how you're coming undone on my fingers. Why don't you let go for me, yeah?" He whispers, as his other hand palms your tits and pinches your nipple, the combined effect of it all making you orgasm violently on his fingers.

He lays you back on the bed as you recover from the orgasm, hovering above you and kisses your temple, fusses with your bra and pulls it back on your chest.

"Yes." You say shyly.

"Yes what?"

"I'd like to be yours, dummy."

He pecks your lips almost lovingly and tucks your hair behind your ears, the proximity making your cheeks flush.

"That's fucking wonderful, then. Now let's get you to sleep. I'll take you out on a real date tomorrow. Do something without involving dreams for once and approach you normally, yeah?"

He says smiling, as you nod a yes.

You lull to a peaceful sleep, as Toji hovers above you, lightly threading his fingers in your hair as your eyes shutter close.

© 2021 all rights to multistan-247 - don't copy or modify.

Seriously bro, I'm sure you're better than that. You got your own brain for nothing then :D

#jjk toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #incubus #incubi #toji smut #dilf toji #toji imagine #toji thirst #toji x reader #toji headcanons #jjk anime #jjk manga #jjk headcanons #jjk #jjk angst #jjk smut #jjk imagines #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu toji #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen smut #writing #toji scenarios #smut #🖇️ dilf december

[aphroditedahlias]

Bully bakugou x reader

Yandere bakugou.

Reader is fem?, Idk if I used she/her pronouns but they have a vag and tiddys - when the full thing drops it will be completely fem reader per request

FULL FIC HERE

Tw // non con, bullying, yandere possessive themes uhhh bakugou spits in readers mouth for the one time 🥴

Soooo I’m currently working on a bully bakugou fic so I thought I’d drop some headcannons as like a preview? Idk idk. I’m not that big a fan of writing aged up characters Bcs Idk if I’ll get hate? although I read so I may or may not be doing more of these but bakugou and reader are in collage. Yes I used to talk shit about aged up characters.

Not edited.

Taglist

- bully ! Bakugou who trips you in the hallways and hacks into your computer, sending your professor anything but correct assignments yk you’re scrambling into to class with no explanation for what you supposedly sent

- Bully ! Bakugou who humiliates you you infront of everyone by asking things that you obviously don’t know the answer to then condescendingly giving your cheek an all too hash slap telling you it ok to be dumb.

- Bully ! Bakugou who slams your face into wall, pressing his body against yours whispering in your ear that he’ll fuck you up if he sees you talking to another guy as he slip his hand to cup in between your legs.

- Bully bakugou who won’t leave you alone and corners you in school making you open your mouth so he can spit down your throat.

- He’ll just laugh if you say no. How are you going to get past him and get to class on time? That’s what he thought. Now say ahhhh.

- Bully bakugou who goes from exchanging small favors from you so that you’re left alone to full on making you jerk him off in the middle of class.

“F-fuck tighter, make your hand tighter. Shit you’re so good at this. You do this all the time yeah? Fucking whore. “ he sneers, yet he still raises his hips to jump into your hand as he nears his end.

- bully bakugou who drags you into the bathroom telling you to get on your knees and gag on his cock as a punishment for not making him cum fast enough in class.

- He’ll grab your head,forcing your unprepared mouth onto his cock slowly training your throat to take him.

- Don’t worry about the taste of his cum, his cock is so far down your throat that all you have to do is breath and it’ll disappear.

- Bully ! Bakugou who smooshes you against the wall and gropes you telling you how you look good enough to devour. As a matter of fact, he owes you for turning him into a porn star mearly from your tight throat.

He yanks you by your shirt making you face him before smashing his lips against yours. He kises his way down your neck and chest, stopping to raise your shirt and take a nipple in his mouth.

You whine from the sensation of his warm mouth over your tits but bite your bottom lip to muffle the noise.

He quickly shoves your pants down In hurry to taste you.

He drops to his knees, slinging one of your legs over his shoulder before looking up at you with a smirk.

You don’t know what to expect but his warm Tongue catches on the hood of your clit and he sucks it in between his lips. Your knees buckle and you grab onto his head for stability. His arms reach around to grab your ass and push you more into his face as he eats you out like a starved man.

Hehe you thought you’d be getting details? NAH BITCH SUFFER. - grave 💜💚

When you cum atleast 3 times on his Tongue, he gets up silently before placing a hard kiss to your lips and pulls your pants up leaving you in a puddle of your own juices mixed with his spit.

You’re about to speak but he places 2 of his signature condescending slaps on your cheek as he walks into the classroom right next to corner he ate you out on his knees in.

You wonder if they heard the slurping of his mouth on your pussy or the way you failed to hide your moans.

Full fic here

——————————————

Do NOT steal my shit. Just give credit it’s not that deep.

Reblogs are always welcome 💜💚💜

Please leave constructive criticism

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#cw dark content #mha smut #tw dubious consent #tw yandere #yandere bakugo x reader #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere katsuki #yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #yandere bully #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #katsuki headcanons #tw non con #tw noncon #tw infantilization #tw impact play #tw degradation

[sunascumdoll]

My my, can't just get by a nice event and not participate, can i?Imma pick the "ᴛᴇxᴛɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴇ" trend, aand for the characters imma go with Toji, Choso, Hawks and Bakugo heh. Don't think there's room for kinks in this one :( Anyways, love your event <3

ᴛᴇxᴛɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ʜɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴛᴏᴊɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʜᴀᴡᴋꜱ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ, ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋꜰɪᴄ-ɪꜱʜ

a/n: got another request similar to this, the other characters will be on another post! i here you go bubs! i tried my best with writing toji and chose, it's my first time writing for them oof. also if the texts look weird, it's bc i dont have an iphone and had to use an app sjdhsjd.

as always reblogs are appreciated  ♡

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛɪᴋᴛᴏᴋ ᴛʀᴇɴᴅ & ᴋɪɴᴋ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ

toji 

this man is BEEFY

THICC

TIDDIES ON SWOLE MODE

the second he walked in the store everyone looked scared

so the fact that he thinks someone would take a chance at hitting on you ???

rip

toji grumbles, shoving his phone in his pocket before turning on his heels and speed walking to where he last saw you. your eyebrows furrow a bit seeing your last message left on read. sighing, you place your phone in your back pocket and begin to walk down the aisle you were currently on. you were about to turn the corner when you feel a large arm wrap around your waist and pull you flush against their chest. 

you squeak and begin struggling in their arms, only for a familiar husky voice to whisper in your ear, “easy, pretty girl.” 

your head tilts back, your eyes meeting those of your husband. toji leans down, placing a kiss on your lips before looking back up, his intense eyes scanning the aisle. 

“where is he,” his other arm wraps around your waist and gently squeezes you.

“hm?”

“where’s the asshole who was trying to touch you,” he grits through clenched teeth. 

your hand quickly flies up to cover your mouth, stifling your laughter. toji’s gaze shifts from the aisle down to you, face painted in confusion at your sudden laughing fit. 

“toji, i was kidding! i honestly didn’t think you’d c- where are you going?”

toji shoves his hands back into his pockets, turns on his heels, and begins walking away from you, “to get my fucking bread.” 

choso

first of all this man is extremely protective with his brothers

if you think he wouldn’t be as protective over you, yOURE WRONG 

this man is glued to your hip so like no one has the chance to hit on you

but the one time.. the ONE TIME he leaves you alone and he thinks someone is hitting on you

yikers, he’s not leaving alone again. joke or not.

choso could practically feel his throat drop into his stomach reading your message.

“i knew it,” he curses, chucking his phone into his pocket. 

you silently laugh to yourself as you press send. just as you’re about to lock your cell phone, you hear the loud stomping of feet rushing towards you. your head snaps in the direction of the sound, your eyes immediately landing on the sizeable intimidating figure of your boyfriend. choso’s hand wraps around your waist, yanking you towards him. you squeal as your face smashes against his chest, your tiny hands gripping at the cloth that covers his body. 

“hon-”

“where are they,” choso sneers, his dark eyes scanning the empty aisle as his grip on your waist tightens. 

your face contorts in confusion, only for your eyes to widen mere seconds later—the text. 

“no, no, babe, that was just a prank!” you exclaim.

he glances at you before pulling you closer to his chest.  his other arm wraps around you, squeezing you a bit and leaning down to place a kiss on the top of your forehead. 

“a prank? i’m glad it was only a prank, but now i refuse to leave your side.” 

hawks

a clown

immediately thinks it’s a joke

“that ass is fat though”

but then the more he thinks about it

the more he gets nervous

of course, keigo would make a joke. it would be weird if he didn't make one. thankfully it’s only a prank because if you were really in trouble, you’d be done for. 

you huff and shove your phone in your pocket, dissatisfied with your significant other's reaction, before grabbing your handheld basket. you toss a bag of chips into your basket and start walking towards the aisle’s exit. you’re about to turn the corner when you faceplant into someone’s chest. 

“oh, sorry!”

you look up to see a familiar tuft of blonde hair. keigo’s golden eyes light up as he looks down at you, only to darken when he looks up and out into the aisle. his chest is puffed out, vermillion wings stretched and gently vibrating. you bite down onto your bottom lip, your frame shaking before bursting into laughter. 

keigo tenses up before looking back down at you, “huh? what’s so funny?” 

“what’s with the intimidating act?” you ask, wiping the tears away from your eyes. 

“you just told me someone was bothering you?”

you let out another howl, clutching your stomach as more tears roll down your face from laughing. 

“one, i was kidding, and two, i didn’t think you’d even come, especially after that last text message.”

“i wasn’t going to come at first, but then i started to feel bad. but i see i should’ve gone with my initial instinct. 

bakugou 

why would you do this

bakugou is protective of you

you playing this prank would put everyone and the snack aisle in danger

bc he WILL blow that shit up to get to you

a loud bang comes from about four aisles over. 

“oh no, that’s not good,” you groan.

katsuki turns the corner, speed walking towards you. his eyes are not looking at you but just behind you. your eyes follow his gaze, and spot an innocent older man right behind you, picking out his groceries. 

katsuki walks faster, explosions going off in his hand before shoving past you, “hey, dumbass!”

the older male turns towards katsuki, eyes widening in surprise to see the furious pro hero charging him. you squeal, jumping in front of your lover and covering his mouth. you look back at the innocent stranger and smile, “p-please don’t mind him,” you exclaim before turning back towards katsuki,” please calm down, it was just a pra-”

katsuki cuts you off, his hands grabbing your waist and picking you up, only to move you to the side of him, “did you say something to my significant other? repeat it, i dare you!”

“katsuki! it was just a joke, a prank!” you jump back in front of him, your hands firmly planted on his built chest as you push him away from the man.

the explosions in katsuki’s hands cease, those angry crimson red eyes now fixated on you. you giggle nervously under his gaze and smile up at him. he growls and quickly walks away from both you and the civilian. 

“babe, where are you going?”

“don’t talk to me.” 

#[ 🍯 ]honeys.event #mha x reader #bnha x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #choso x reader #jjk toji #jjk choso

[shotorozu]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬’ 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝟰𝟬𝟬 & 𝟱𝟬𝟬 𝗳𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹

character(s) : haikyuu!! - multiple characters

legend : [Y/N = your name] f!reader with they/them pronouns. fluff to the mildest of spice, not nsfw. timeskip 

note(s) : so like.. the bnha one did very well, so i wanted to do a haikyuu version of it. im obviously not doing all the boys sadly. (will probably do 3-5 boys per team idk), but i’ll just do as many as i can until my idea train dies. i would add more tags but 30 is the limit so.. sorry. very long overdue because this was in my drafts for the longest time

read more will be added later along with the link to part one.

»»————-　♡　————-««

hinata shoyo

↮ a legs lover. there’s something about them he’s really enamored by. a bonus if you’re shorter than him, and an even bigger bonus if you’re taller than him (if you’re much taller than him since he’s 5′7 in the timeskip, I think) then he’ll pass tf out) he LOVES it when you wear stockings or fishnets, and he loves the way the material contours the shape of your legs. he’ll stare at them a lot, and he will be embarrassed if you catch him, and even more so when the team catches him. please reassure him that it’s fine.

kageyama tobio

↮ loves your chest, regardless of size (but if you must insist, he leans towards bigger sets) is it a thing connecting to milk? he doesn’t really know to be honest. kageyama really loves taking naps on your chest, because he falls asleep pretty fast when he takes naps on your chest. he won’t touch them because he’s a lil hesitant, but he’ll just.. rest his hand on there, and admire the softness. (will suckle on them if you’ll let him. is it a milk thing? again, we don’t know)

kōshi sugawara

↮ your lower back is his favorite. it’s not so common as “breasts” or “ass” but, he has good reasoning behind his favorite! in general, he loves his face, but he loves just laying his hand on your lower back. there’s just something about looking at you from behind that makes his heart pound 10x faster. oh and, he really loves putting kisses on there, because every time your back will be towards him in your shared room, he’ll catch a glimpse of those little bite marks. he’s smug, and he’s very proud of them, especially because you can only see them.

tsukishima kei

↮ he’s stuck between hands, tiddies and neck, but for the sake of this post- we’ll settle for hands. they’re so much smaller than his?? like.. he wonders how that’s possible, and he’ll probably tease you about it. (uh.. how can someone’s hands be that long? tf tsuki) it’s canon that he fiddles with his fingers when nervous, so when he’s with you- he’ll fiddle with your fingers instead. he also finds himself playing with your fingers, memorizing all of the details of your fingers. if you offer to put on bandages on his fingers whenever he gets hurt or something similar, he’ll get very bashful. but please do that!! he loves that a lot. with tiddies, his preference is definitely on the smaller side ngl

kozume kenma

↮ collarbones to him are  ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ “mwah.” so elegant, so beautiful. how did this happen? well- he was doing work one day (like the rich man he is) and you sit on his lap per usual- but !! your collarbones were all up in his face. he’ll get very red, and lose focus, so give him a heads up. wear shirts that show off your collarbones, and he’ll stare hard. so yeah. he loves resting his face on them, and he’ll occasionally give you kisses, ranging from cute lil ones, to the wet open mouth kisses. 

yaku morisuke

↮ yaku likes short hair, i repeat- he likes short hair. therefore!! his favorite part would be your upperback/neck. it really depends if you’re taller than him or shorter than him. tbh idk how tall that man is in the timeskip (but he sexy af) but he always loves resting his hand on your upperback, regardless if you have long hair or short hair. if you’re shorter than him, he’ll pull you in for a hug with a hand on your upperback, and if you’re taller— he’ll rest his head on your shoulder, hand loosely hung around your back.

lev haiba

↮ this man screams legs man. like.. i also don’t really have much evidence to back this up, but this man has this weird attraction to your legs. he’ll probably make you walks in front of him so he can take a good stare at your legs. doesn’t matter if they’re long, skinny legs— or short ones! he just adores legs. lev is really tall so.. please put your legs on him, he’ll be in heaven. his preference definitely leans on long legs though.. he just really likes them :)

oikawa tōru

↮ uh ok.. i had a difficult time with deciding with this one tbh, but this man loves your waist. at first, i thought he was a tiddies man, which.. i feel like he is? but not that much of a tiddies man compared to being a waist man. his favorite way to greet you is to hug you from behind, hands resting on your waist as he inhales your scent. he’ll probably bite the soft skin on your waist as a way to tease you, that is.. if you allow him lol

iwaizumi hajime

↮ man is a collarbone man, change my mind. again, i partially feel like he also loves thighs and ass but look!! collarbones. he loves seeing them when you wear baggy clothes, unintentionally showing off your collarbones to him. his mind goes haywire at the sight. loves putting kisses on your collarbones, occasionally putting hickies there— but he also doesn’t wanna inflict pain on your collarbones so.. hickies are not a common thing. but don’t worry! he has a lot of ways to show you his love for collarbones.

akaashi keiji

↮ definitely a collarbone/hands type of guy. he has a strong affixiation towards them, it came to the point that even bokuto noticed that he had some sort of attachment to them. he just loves admiring collarbones, especially if they’re adorn with shiny necklaces, or just anything that’ll make them look amazing. as for hands, he loves playing with the tip of your fingers— tracing from your wrists, to the back of your hands, to your fingertips.

bokuto koutarou

↮ thighs :)) his preference is “the bigger, the better” and it’s literally canon too. he doesn’t mind smaller thighs, but he’s such a sucker of huge thighs. i guess it’s because he has thick thighs himself so that’s why bigger girls gravitate towards him. there’s always a hand on your thigh if you sit on his lap, and before games, he finds himself patting your thighs for good luck (he’ll never smack them because man’s highkey gonna leave marks on you)

ushijima wakatoshi

↮ thighs. thighs. thighs. man absolutely loves them, more so if they’re a little bit on the thicker side, but obviously— if this man loves you, he’ll love all of you. head really empty, and it’s just him gripping on your thighs while he drives the car, practically having a vice grip on your poor thighs— but it’s okay, because he’ll rub the irritated spot with a gentle touch, his baritone voice apologizing to you. not really big on words, but.. he’ll stare at your thighs a lot.

tendou satori

↮ has a thing for your hips. hm tbh, i was stuck between him having a thing for your neck and thighs— but he absolutely loves hips, just as any other intellectual. he loves squishing the plump flesh between his skinny fingers, and he also loves tapping on them while you stand infront of him doing.. with small hips, he still likes holding on then. okay but,, he also really loves hip dips. even he can’t explain it, he’ll just repeat him— telling you he loves hip dips. he really loves the silhoutte of them. so yeah, if you’re insecure, he’ll punt your insecurities until they rot :)

semi eita

↮ he admires your hands, it’s just that.. they feel so much softer than his, and the size difference between your hand and his hand makes his mind go haywire, his heart pounding against his chest. his hands are still in top shape, but over the years— they definitely roughened a bit due to practicing guitar and other instruments for his band, so his heart will definitely swoon if you put lotion on them. he’s also the type that would kiss the back of your hand before gigs for good luck, only to kiss them after his shows, saying he did well because of you :)

rintarou suna

↮ a thighs man for sure. the bigger thighs the better, it’s just his preference. not saying he hates small thighs though— thighs will be thighs. however!! his preference just loves squishy thighs. if you were to squeeze them around his head— he’d surely die a happy man. doesn’t care where y’all are and who you guys are with, he’s 100% going to put his hand on your thigh. if you decide to wear clothes revealing your thighs, or just.. tight fitted jeans or leggings, expect him to squeeze the soft flesh that’s there. he’ll definitely make a remark about how your thighs expand like crazy when you sit down, but he doesn’t mean it in a insulting way. he actually really loves it.

kita shinsuke

↮ he loves everything about you, so it really takes him a while to actually settle on something. one day— he’ll be touching your thighs, another day he’ll be holding your waist, then another day, he has his hand gliding over your collarbones. eventually, he settles on favoriting your hands, because he can hold them regardless of the setting. he can kiss them, hold them, and intertwin his fingers all he likes.

the miya twins

↮ OSAMU LOVES TIDDIES, AND ATSUMU LOVES ASS :) i don’t make the rules.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading! (can y’all tell i got a little exhausted with writing the miya twins lol)

i do not own haikyuu!!/hq!! and it’s characters. haikyuu belongs to haruichi furudate, i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

edit : just realized y’all like haikyuu so.. please submit haikyuu headcanon ideas

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n #hq!! headcanons #kageyama tobio x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kageyama x reader #tsukishima x reader #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x you #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x y/n #tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #tendou satori x you #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x you #akaashi x you #bokuto x reader #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x reader

[doctorgerth]

Tits, Ass, or Legs?

Part One | Part Two

a/n: a lovely anon requested a part two to a tits, ass, or legs post I made eons ago.

featuring: Smoker, Aokiji, Kid, Killer, & Zoro

warnings: NSFW; perversion; a lil cracky

disclaimer: these opinions are not the end all be all of what they prefer in an s/o. these opinions are also NOT to say they would not equally or more enjoy other attributes in their s/o. please don’t take these at face value. these are just my ideas of what I think catches their eye and gets them going. :-)

SMOKER ➠ Secretly weak for sexy legs and anything that shows them off. Heels? Boner. Stockings/Tights? Boner. Dress/Shorts/Skirt? Boner. The way you cross them in your seat is sexy as hell, even if what he really wants is to spread them wide open. Loves it when you lay your legs in his lap, even if it is dangerous for his health. A sucker for when you put lotion on them, literally cannot keep his hands off. And when you wrap your legs around his waist, he is ready to give it to you.

═════════════════════

AOKIJI ➠ 24/7 thinking about boobs. The shape of them, the feel of them, he is a tit man all around. Canonically admires big titties. But he has an appreciation for smaller titties as well! Just likes to hold them ok. Thanks the heavens for his height advantage to peep down your shirt. Motor boating king. Has the best naps on your honkers. Will casually squeeze at your tits, verbally admiring the way your nipples harden at his cold touch. Puts his face in them when he’s having a bad day.

═════════════════════

KID ➠ I think the fandom as a whole collectively agrees that Kid is an ass man. Big booties make Kid’s brain go brrr and he will be all over you if you wear something that accentuates your assets. Will most definitely randomly smack or grope your ass when you’re around with a confident “Mine”, and yes, in front of everyone too. Even if you don’t have much of an ass, Kid will find something to grab and jiggle with horny teenager excitement. Tell him to kiss your ass and he probably will.

═════════════════════

KILLER ➠ He’s got enough tiddy and ass to spare, so what he really appreciates are some legs. More specifically, thighs. How supple the flesh feels under his calloused fingers and how soft they feel wrapped around his head when he’s going down on you leaves him absolutely weak. Litters your thighs with lipstick marks and hickies. Thankful for the mask so you don’t catch him ogling, but his large, wandering hand on your thigh doesn’t exactly hide his intentions. Of course, he doesn’t neglect what’s attached to those beautiful legs either.

═════════════════════

ZORO ➠ He has silently noticed and appreciated many pairs of titties and legs, but what really gets him sweating is a nice, juicy ass. He can’t help it, the way it looks in that outfit? The way your cheeks peak out of your bottoms? How he has to physically hold himself back when you bend over? He just wants to touch the butt. Loves spanking (if ur into it) so he can admire his handprints on your beautiful skin. Short circuits if you wear lacy underwear. Holds onto your booty when he sleeps beside you.

If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog. 🌸

#doctorgerth #doc writes #blurbs #ns.fw #established relationship #one piece x reader #smoker x reader #aokiji x reader #kid x reader #killer x reader #zoro x reader

[watchmegetobsessed]

It’s the truth - Harry Styles blurb

a/n: this one just popped into my head since @pastequeharry​ and I were once again talking about harry’s tiddies (no surprise)

warning: explicitlanguage, basically that’s it 

word count: 483

masterlist

“What the fuck?!”

Harry’s deep voice beams through the house and you can’t help the laughter that falls from your lips upon hearing your boyfriend’s reaction to your latest little joke on him. Holding your phone in your hands you hear his naked feet tap against the hardwood floor as he makes his way from the study to the bedroom where you’re lying in bed currently. His tall figure appears at the door and he looks at you with raised eyebrows as he holds up his own phone, the conversation with you open on the screen as he points at it.

“Would you explain why you changed my name to…” He has to check again, just to say it right. “Jumbo tiddies?!”

Now you’re laughing like a hyena, hearing it from his mouth just makes it even more hilarious for you. He is keeping a straight face, trying to make you believe he is upset, but you can see the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes that always come out when he smiles.

“What? It’s just the truth!”

He places his hands to his hips, narrowing his eyes at you as he walks into the room, stopping at the end of the bed.

“You can’t blame me, your tiddies have been all over the internet since last Sunday, I just… had to!”

Harry shakes his head huffing at how much you’re enjoying it. But then he lifts up his phone and starts typing. When his fingers tapping on the screen your phone buzzes in your hand and you gasp at the notification that just popped up.

“You did not just change my name to WAP!”

“Oh, I very much did,” he smirks, so full of himself for getting back at you for the little joke you played on him. “What? It’s the truth! I know, because I’m the one who was knuckles deep in yo—“

“Harry!” you cut him off throwing a pillow in his way, but he just smirks, licking his lips. “Well in that case I know your tiddies are jumbo sized, because I was the one grabbing them last night.”

“And you don’t like them?” he pouts his lips at you.

“Oh no, I love them!” Climbing to the end of the bed you kneel in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, placing your head to his chest. “They are perfect, I love your big tits!”

“Aw,” he breathes out, circling his arms around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “And I love your wet ass pussy, Darling.”

“I can’t believe you just said that out loud,” you mumble into his chest as he shakes from his laughter.

“You started it,” he answers and you just know he is smirking.

“You are such a baby,” you huff. “My big tiddie baby,” you add, kissing both his pecks.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader

[soclonely]

I posted 3,569 times in 2021

1931 posts created (54%)

1638 posts reblogged (46%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.8 posts.

I added 1,916 tags in 2021

#star wars - 670 posts

#the clone wars - 325 posts

#khai come get ya juice - 187 posts

#sw - 152 posts

#star wars the clone wars - 151 posts

#captain rex - 117 posts

#the clones as - 95 posts

#the bad batch - 92 posts

#commander cody - 64 posts

#arc trooper fives - 63 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#waking up at 3am with your screen tv bright as nhl 96 intro plays on repeat because 8 yearold you passed out while playing with your cousin

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

The Clones as Their Reactions to Seeing Themselves on Tumblr

all the clown clone content we post. How do you think the boys would react? Rex-”OH COME ON I DYED IT BLUE ONCE! And I do sleep sometimes thank you very much. Hm, I could be a werewolf you say?.. Now that you guys mention it General Skywalker does throw me a lot” Echo- “I am pegged as the more responsible one? *looks over at Five* I could see it” Fives-*whistles as he goes through his fan art* “Man do I look good or what?! And I even have a ‘simp’. Whatever it is sounds hot!” Jesse- “Wait why is my helmet on a stick with other helmets in this gif?” Kix- “Pirate Kix? *snorts* as if. Why is Coric the only one having emotional breakdowns in the medbay? I do too” Tup- “Murder, kittens, AND these cute drawings of my with great hair? Man you guys sure do know your stuff ” Dogma- *mumbles something about his tattoo not being THAT hard to draw* Hardcase- “Oh we were supposed to be looking at our own stuff? Im sorry I was busy reading some of these crack fics. People are hilarious and mildly disturbing!” Coric- “Musically inclined?” *pops out headphone* Bly- “My Dump truck what????? Wait. Aayla and I are a number one ship? *sniffles*” 99- “They all think I am the best *smiles shyly* But its really my brothers doing all the work you guys should do more content on them. i don’t deserve much. Just doing my duty” Fox- *Looks down at chest, then at the three empty caf cups on his desk* I mean, they aren’t wrong on the tiddies and coffee. But I do sleep when Thorn opens his mouth to talk Cody- “I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH GENERAL KENOBI.. Also, I don’t just kick droids.. I throw a few good swings in too.” Waxer and Boil- *sobs at all the numa and waxer boil art* Wolffe- *eyerolls* “I don’t even bite...” Sinker and Boost- “Hey why are we the stinky ones?!” “I don’t Sink! I can swim ya know!” Hunter- “Tired dad just trying to survive? *looks over at Wrecker shoving explosives in his pants pocket* Accepted.” Wrecker- “I’M A HIMBO? NICE! WHatever that is!” Tech- “They keep calling me ‘baby’. You know I have read about this kink and I for one-*Hunters hand covers his mouth* mMmmmmMmmMm” Crosshair- “I-why am I such an ass? *glares* I’m not that bad you all just like the regs too much!”

574 notes • Posted 2021-02-04 18:30:27 GMT

#4

Just give me a show like the National Geo ones about the rainforest, oceans, or mountains  Except make it Star Wars and each episode is a planet from the galaxy exploring the people, culture, animals, and geography of it. But... still narrate it like the Nat Geo Documentaries.

834 notes • Posted 2021-01-19 18:51:59 GMT

#3

99 teaching a small dance class on Kamini if cadets. They perform for the ARCs and Visiting commanders sometime.

BABY FIVES WAS A LITTLE TREE ONCE. When he saw shaak ti in the audience he waved frantically and excited

985 notes • Posted 2021-08-17 17:50:57 GMT

#2

LMFAO it really went...

Imperial Stormtroopers: Can't shoot for shit

Gregor: *schoolgirl giggle* Oops my bad

1149 notes • Posted 2021-07-30 15:20:27 GMT

#1

When you are in the middle of a briefing during the spring and a butterfly decides to interrupt to give you kisses. One of my favorite pieces from @celiansartblog​  thank you for making my spring not as stormy🥺

1266 notes • Posted 2021-04-18 20:16:29 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[shidouryusm]

Birthday Treats

Pairing: Bokuto x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, reverse comfort

Warning: Some suggestive implication at the end, little angsty, Bokuto comforts reader, little implication of being a bad s/o, crying

Word count: 1.4K

A/N: Happy Birthday to my dearest husband from haikyuu. He is the man I fell head over heels and am still in love with him neck deep. My comfort character and my literal beam. Love his phat ass and tiddies way too much.

A/N 2: Hope you enjoy my birthday tribute. I FELT SO BAD WHEN I MISSED HIS BIRTHDAY AT FIRST. I WAS TOO MUCH OCCUPIED WITH WORK TODAY TO REALISE I FORGOT HIS BIRTHDAY.

A/N 3: Any kind of constructive criticism would be appreciated. Like and reblog this fic.Thank you in advance all lovely people.

You had woken up at the crack of dawn. The sun was surfacing just above the horizon. Its orange warmth enhanced the shred of grey and blue clouds. You sprauchled across the room, sleep slouched but mind buzzing with worries and the work that you have to finish by today.

You reach over to the other end of bed. The sleeping figure of the dual colored hair man held too much endearment to miss. You placed a hand softly over his bare chest, as you took in his sleeping features. His little smile that he never misses while he is asleep. The serene countenance that he has now is usually masked by his boisterous nature. Sleeping Bokuto is a treat for the eyes and you thank the lucky stars to see this in person, that too every day. You kissed his nose, his closed eyes, his forehead and lastly a small peck over his tight lipped smile.

You sighed in tiredness as you turned over and headed to shower. A whole list of works waiting. You left the house with a small note of “I love you” over his breakfast plate, followed by a owl doodle that he always loves seeing on his plate.

The day rolled over to afternoon as you attended meetings, finished your first shift and supervised your juniors about upcoming work. All the while, feeling restless as if you forgot something at home. You even had double checked your purse twice due to this. It wasn’t until lunchtime that you realized what was amiss.

You were scrolling through your phone mindlessly as you ate your lunch, getting a relief from the pile and checklists of works that you had to finish. You saw the text that you had sent to Bokuto as you left,

“Hey baby, leaving for work early. Didn’t wanna wake you up. You were looking cute asf. Need to finish the excessive ass work so might be late. Bye and Love you. Also pls finish the breakfast well and donot forget the shake.

P.S- DW I had given you kisses while you were asleep :3. LOVE YOU”

He had replied with his usual cheerful state,

“HEY HEY HEY BABY OWL. It’s oki. Take care of yourself and LOVE YOU EVEN MORE. I HAD TAKEN THE OWL DRAWING WITH ME. IT WAS TOO CUTE. COME HOME SAFE. I LOVE YOU AGAIN.”

You smiled at his text. But the more you looked at the text, the more discomfort you felt. You looked at the text for few more moments before the epiphany crashed over you like icy storm.

You scrambled through the apps of your phone before going to the calendar and seeing the date. Dread would be an understatement to express the face that you just made. Your eyes seemed to pop out of socket as it locked with the date of 20th September…adorned with emojis and kisses and a little note saying, ‘BABY’S BDAY’. Guilt pooled in like a broken dam inside you. A punch in the gut as you forgot his birthday. The day you were anticipating of more than just a month. You remembered all the conversations that you had with him regarding his birthday,

“…and a large chocolate cake” you prompt. His head on your lap as you run your fingers over them.

“Along with barbecue and veggies as well. All kinds of meat would be good, right Y/N?” Bokuto’s eyes lit up as he spoke. You excitedly nodded to his suggestion.

“...also Kou, we can invite Kuroo, Tsumu, Kiyoomi and the entire MSBY along with Fukorodani, what say?”…

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you see half the day being over. You go to Instagram as you see a video Atsumu posted as they all surprised him with a large cake and excited hollers and chorus of “Happy Birthday”. You see Bokuto as he looks so happy and exuberant. You smile involuntarily as you see his ear to ear grin at this surprise. Hundreds of devoted fans commented, wishing him and proclaiming their best wishes. Only his s/o forgot his birthday.

You hurriedly skim through your to do work list. Seeing half the work being done, you pack up your stuff and leave the office, explaining and leaving the rest of the work to your team.

You stop by the store, buying all the things that you need and head home.

Seeing as the sun hasn’t set down yet and there is enough time for his practice to end, you plan a short celebration that awaits him now.

It was evening when you finish all the preparations and drove to his gym. They were almost lacking up by the time you had reached. Perfect!

You spot Bokuto from afar. His soft smile etched on his face as he talks with Meian. You stand at the threshold of the gym entrance, feeling nervous and hesitant all of a sudden. Tsumu notices you as he nudges Bokuto. The amber round eyes met yours and he sprints towards you in a flash. Stopping in front of you as he sees you fidgeting awkwardly. Confusion dawns on his face.

“Y/N…baby. Weren’t you supposed to stay late for work? Also why is your face so pale, babe? Are you doing good? Is your health okay?” he anxiously put a hand over your forehead as he acknowledges his own question.

Upon his touch, you couldn’t hold it any longer as you pounced in his embrace. Tears that were alarmingly at bay cascaded down your cheeks.

“Babyy…I’m-I’m so sorry baby. I forgot your birthday fully. I swear I didn’t mean to…I was in so much stress. I forgot the date. I-I-I am…”

“Hey hey…shush…baby…hey its okay. Baby, come here…my baby owl” Bokuto secures you in his strong arms, comforting you.

Surely he did ponder that why didn’t you wish him or something…but he soon realized the overwork you have been facing for a few days. The nights where you combed his hair and analyse data in bed. The late night work schedule. But none of this mattered to him more than the fact that you always appreciate and acknowledge him, even in the busiest of days. Your presence and care being his No.1 gift. He rubs your back as he hides himself in the crook of your neck. Lifting you from the ground. He kisses your neck, your hair, the side of your head.

“Baby owl...hey look at me, pretty. Hey...there you are. Listen…its okay. No buts…it is absolutely fine. You had excessive stress for the past few days and the way you were handling that and our home together is fabulous babe. And that is my gift. My forever gift that I will cherish for the rest of my lives. Besides, you gave me morning kisses, right? Consider that as my gift from you”

Bokuto rests his forehead against yours as he traces his fingers on your waist. You regain your composure as he wipes away your tears and kisses your cheeks. You tug him outside towards the car before bading everone goodbyes.

You drove the car all the way to a small hill. The hillside consisting light posts and reflection of the ever blinding city.

Bokuto, unaware of his surrounding happenings followed suit. You unlock the boot of your car and take out the small grill and box of meat. Arranging everything, you see Bokuto just seeing everything in awed expression.

“I know we planned for a grand barbecue but thanks to my utmost forgetfulness, we have this now. This is the least I can do for you, Kou” you sheepishly said. Bokuto sheaths you in a bear hug again as he now places his lips over your. Both of your lips dancing in rhythm and heartbeats synching with each other.

“That is the best thing you can do for me, baby owl. I am ever so lucky to have you” You laugh at his hyperbole sentence which was nothing but true.

Bringing out the small cake that you had baked, you guys sit together on the bonnet of the car, talking about everything and nothing. The sizzle of the barbecue with the buzz of moths and the smooth rustle of breeze…all added with the beauty and simplicity of the scenario. You rest your head on his shoulders as you whisper I love yous and sweet nothings. He encircles his hand in your waist and pulls you closer. His remnant sweaty body and cologne hitting your nose. You kiss up along his jaws as he bents down and sweetly nips at your skin.

“I should give you a return gift for this, baby owl. Shouldn’t I?” he whispers directly over your ear. His hold getting tighter.

Maybe forgotten birthdays aren’t really that bad…

Happy Birthday to my King. My comfort character, my eternal love and just my bestfriend from Haikyuu.

Happy Birthday Bokuto Koutarou...the ACE of my heart.

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