#but a part of me breaks whenever he talks about her

[crepezinhos]

Scaramouche + Wanderer NSFW ABCs

(NSFW ABCs of Scaramouche and Wanderer, showing their sexual differences throughout Wanderer’s character transformation)

SCARAMOUCHE’S POV: You and Scaramouche are friends with benefits. You’re a human but you are incredibly the Seventh Fatui Harbinger. You used to have a rivalry with the Sixth Harbinger because you always thought you were stronger. Slowly, you two start to realize you have many things in common and compete each other in a different way.

WANDERER’S POV: You and Wanderer are a couple. You are a student at the Akademiya and used to be one of his fans when he still was Scaramouche, but, just like everyone else, you forgot his existence after he deleted hisself from the Irminsul. Wanderer met you again when he saw you being cornered by Fatui Agents and saved you from them because he still felt thankful for your support to him in the past. Because of this event, you began talking to him more frequently to him and he quickly fell in love for you, even if he promised to never do so again.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— Both characters DO NOT share universes, so there was no “exchanging” in partners.

— This is a NSFW piece

— Reader uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Both characters will have some PTSD and are pretty toxic in some topics

— Contains MANY kinky topics such as: Overfilling, cosplay / dressed sex, degradation, oral sex, body marking, bondage, overstimulation, teasing, unfairness, masturbation, public sex, quickies, unprotected sex, usage of elemental powers, sexualization of common and daily activities and probably more.

A - Aftercare (How are they like after it and how do they treat you?)

Scaramouche: Scaramouche would usually win the “competitions” you two had, and whenever he did so he’d be pretty snobby about it. He would help you clean up and put you in a comfy place but he’d make sure to keep smirking and staring at your soul through every second of it. Depending of what the competition was about, and who begun it, he’d joke or be ironic about it. Good luck trying to live peacefully after losing to him on a challenge you did by yourself.

“Here you go. I know it’s hard to survive a challenge against me, so I just want to make sure you are not in a vegetative state!” He joked, handing you a cup of water with a very proud smile in his face after barely breaking your mind in bed.

Wanderer: He’d definitely keep the aftercare for the next morning. He feels embarrassed enough to get naked in front of you before it, so he definitely doesn’t want you to see him naked, panting, sweaty and blushing after it. He will immediately lay down and quickly cover the both of you up, cuddling your head until you’re asleep. After some minutes or hours watching you sleep while messing with your hair, he will get up, dress up and do whatever he has to do to make you wake up to a perfect scenario.

“Sit down, I brought you breakfast.” He asked, putting a four-legged tray on top of your waist as soon as you were set to. It had your favorite meal for breakfast and your favorite snacks and drink around it. He already had his clothes on and you had just woke up from an exhausting sex night. “So… did you like it..?” He asked, sitting by your side but avoiding eye contact. You could see him clearly blushing tho.

B - Body Part (What is their favorite part of your body and why?)

Scaramouche: Your hips. If he’s holding your hips, he has the control of it all, and he loves that feeling. He loves to see you sway your hips when walking, see you in clothes where your hips are valued, he loves to grip on them until they get red by the pressure of his fingers, he loves squeezing them and other body parts around it like your belly and tights and he really loves seeing you sway them, especially when you’re riding him.

“Fuck..! If you keep swaying your hips like that… I might actually pass out.” Says Scaramouche between low groans, trying to pretend like he’s not losing the current challenge. His eyes and hands locked on your hips like a hunter. You were swaying them in a way that was driving him absolutely crazy for you.

Wanderer: Your wrists. Even after deleting hisself from the Irminsul and going through his past identity of Scaramouche, he still likes to have total, or most control of sex. He will always lock both your wrists down by either pulling or pushing them to the ground depending on your position, and he does it hard just like his past self. The difference is that he’s just not that kinky anymore and doesn’t even realize how much he likes to hold your wrists.

“Stop moving.” Wanderer ordered between his many moans, grabbing both your wrists and pushing them harder into the wall he was thrusting you against.

C - Cum (Where do they most like to cum?)

Scaramouche: If Scaramouche has the opportunity to cum in your chest or in your face, he will always do it. He absolutely loves the power sensation he gets from doing that to you. He also really enjoys doing it inside and seeing you take it all until you can’t anymore and ends dripping some of it, but he prefers to watch you cleaning your face or chest after having his cum all around it.

“Look at you… letting yourself have all my cum around you like a toy… humiliating.” Scaramouche joked as he watched every single drop of his cum eject from his dick to your chest after fucking you in missionary position with a big smirk in his face.

Wanderer: Inside. Wanderer became a very reserved guy after going through the Irminsul, so his love for the power he got from cumming outside was absolutely lost. He also developed a really weird and unexpected perfectionism, so he doesn’t want to be responsible for cleaning up a mess he can avoid.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s ok, it’s ok. Just take it all in and it will be over in a second.” He said neutrally as he came it all inside your womb, holding you still as you trembled in agony of the feeling of being filled up.

D - Dirty Secret (A sexual wish that they have but you still don’t know about)

Scaramouche: Scaramouche has a really kinky wish of seeing you dripping (specifically his) cum out of your pussy. Why would he dream such an specific thing? Power. Scaramouche loves that feeling and if he ever had you dripping his seed when it was initially blown inside you, it would be the ultimatum pleasure to him. He just simply doesn’t tell you about it because the amount of orgasms it would take to have you dripping cum is far from your limits. Unfortunately, you are a human. That means you could never take it that far. That’s why he prefers cumming outside you, so you don’t get enough in a single round.

Wanderer: The day Wanderer saw you dressed as Traditional Sumeru dancer (like Nilou) for an annual festival in Sumeru, was the day he first developed a sexual wish with that new identity. It took him a lot of time to realize he was having TOO many dirty thoughts about it and it took him even more to realize he would like to experience sex with you like that. He just doesn’t tell you that secret because it has been months since you wore that costume. It would be too “out of nowhere” and he’s afraid you’ll find that funny. He will wait until next year, and if the idea keeps bothering his sleeping hours, he will find a way to gather the courage he needs and tell you. He has become a very reserved guy, give him a break.

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

Scaramouche: Before meeting you, Scaramouche had a low body count. He would only do it with prostitutes and only when he was stressed. That means he wasn’t perfect at it when you two started having sex together, which made you underestimate him at the beginning even if he did win you in the very first round. But time goes on, and you two started doing it almost every day. That means he became an expert pretty quickly and overcame your abilities. He could easily make any woman go insane with his sex, but he prefers keeping all his tricks just for you.

Wanderer: In this universe, his past self also had a even lower body count since he would also only do it with prostitutes and he never had a girlfriend. And unfortunately, he lost most of his already low experience throughout the process of deleting his memories in the Irminsul and then regaining them again. He still will pleasure you greatly, but he knows no much more than the basic stuff. At least he’s trying to become better at it just to make you love him more by trying different paces, positions, places and more.

F - Favorite Position (What is their favorite position to do it?)

Scaramouche: Doggy Style. As you probably know by now, Scaramouche is a huge fan of power. So it shouldn’t be unexpected for him to love fucking you from behind brutally. Seeing your back arched to its core, all your hair being pulled into his direction and your buttocks and hips marked with his hands… it just makes him feel too confident.

“I’m barely seconds in… and you already lost the competition… and made a fucking mess.” He cursed, leaning closer to you just to whisper the joke in your ear while pulling your hair slightly.

Wanderer: Spooning. Wanderer is a guy that needs assurance and love 24/7. So, being able to feel most of your skin touching his while having sex somehow reassures him that you are enjoying it as much as him. The fact that he can also shove his mouth on your shoulders to censor his moans and you can’t really see him in that position comforts him. He’s still very reserved about this kind of thing, so he still feels embarrassed to let you see him naked or hear him moaning.

“Do you like it..?” Wanderer asks huskily between wet moans in your shoulder. “Good…” He says, gently smooching your neck afterwards.

G - Goofy (How seriously do they take it?)

Scaramouche: It’s pretty obvious that Scaramouche is pretty goofy when doing it, but in a bad way. He’s not going to make silly comments or compliment you. No… most of the times he’ll annoy you to the last nerve with his typical comments or jokes and destroy your dignity. At least… he’s only goofy with you and only you.

“Hey, why do you seem so frustrated? Weren’t you the one that started this?” He asked, grabbing your wrists and locking them behind you when you tried to hold him down to stop going so fast.

Wanderer: Wanderer is absolutely serious when he’s having sex with anyone. He will not make a single joke or comment about anything. It would remind him of his past self, which is pretty uncomfortable to him but he also considers sex a moment of extreme intimacy where no jokes should be done.

“W-What are you smiling at..?” Asked Wanderer insecure about the tiny smile in your face. You two were doing it in missionary this time and you were simply admiring the view eight above you. He was the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

H - Hair (How many hair do they have down there?)

Since they’re the same person and puppet, both of them share the same answer: they have no body hair at all besides their eyebrows and actual hair. Don’t ask me… Ei is who created him…

I - Intimacy (How intimate and romantic are they through it?)

Scaramouche: Initially, Scaramouche wasn’t romantic nor intimate at all. He would simply enjoy the sexual pleasure of the moment and leave you in your bed to sleep after being railed. But within time, he started to get attached to you even if he tried to deny it. So he started to let out some genuine compliments, kiss and hug you through it, spend more time with you after it and tell you his sexual wishes. Even with this tiny development, he still isn’t the most romantic guy. He becomes very embarrassed when the sex gets too real and will try muttering jokes and cover his sounds to make it more savage because he doesn’t understand that sex is a human instinct and that he’s feeling it.

“This is so fucking so good…” He moaned between the wet and breathy kiss, while his hips rocked hard against yours. One of his hands was gripping on your hair tight a hug while the other one barely broke your hips. But when he realized how weird that was, he decided to mumble any joke that came to his mind. “Out of all cum sluts out there, you’re definitely my favorite..! This is worth some extra tips…” He tried to joke, even tho he was saying you’re his favorite partner.

Wanderer: Wanderer, in the other hand, is way more intimate with you. Living with Nahida and studying in the Akademiya made him earn some morality and values he would’ve never learned as a Harbinger. Falling in love with you also made him view some things differently and seriously. For example, the day he entered your room when you were changing. He spent days thinking about what he saw and didn’t understand why he felt so amused by it when he had seen many naked women in his life already? That means that he also feels embarrassed when you see him undress at your front. His attention will be 100% at you, looking for any signs or comfort or discomfort, kissing you everywhere and hugging you all the time. He will not say many things and will not make comments at all, but he’ll make sure you two are in the same environment.

“This is amazing… I don’t wanna stop…” Wanderer moaned while throwing his head to the air. You two were having a very hot missionary sex under the sheets and the overwhelming sweat and heat of your bodies was making him feel wonders.

J - Jack Off (How often do they touch themselves?)

Scaramouche: He wouldn’t jack off frequently. When he felt horny he would just go at you, challenge you in something, make it sexual and fulfill his desires there and now. He’d also have sex with you before going away to missions so his wishes wouldn’t disturb him during the mission. But if became too long, like a month or more, he would sit down in a chair or floor and do it. He would also start masturbating when you two had an appointment to have sex and he knew you were arriving soon, so you’d arrive to a very teasing view.

“You… finally arrived..!” Scaramouche said between low groans. He was masturbating in chair, completely backwards to you, already pretty close to his orgasm. “What am I doing? I’m just making these hours of waiting you less useless…” He joked, still not stopping his movements.

Wanderer: No. Absolutely no. Wanderer will try his best to avoid masturbation. Why? Because the only time where he felt that desperate to touch hisself like that, Nahida entered the room without knocking on the door. He spent days avoiding her, even if she completely understood that instinct and wanted to apologize for barging in the room without his consent. Even if you’re away for an appointment and he gets hormonal, he’ll prefer to simply close his eyes and imagine you two having sex, rather than jacking his dick up and down.

“No, I’m not gonna do it.” He said to hisself while trying to sleep, changing his position again. His dick was brick hard but he was trying to ignore it. His brain wasn’t helping tho, making him imagine the both of you having sex with some extra erotic details that were only making him more and more horny. “Hell..! Why is this feeling so fucking insistent..?!”

K - Kinks (Do they have any kinks that you know of?)

Scaramouche: Absolutely. Scaramouche has many kinks and fetishes but the ones that most turn him on are degradation and dominance. Taking control of things and putting people in their place has always been the thing he’s most good at and also his favorite thing. So it isn’t hard for him to do it in sex nor uncomfortable. He’ll make you suck him like a leech, he’ll leave your ass cheeks red from the quantity of slaps given there, he’ll make you beg for him and way more… this guy is an iceberg you don’t wanna go through…

“Show me how much you want this, you little slut.” Scaramouche ordered while fucking you from behind brutally, making you instantly arch your back. “Bending it all over me like a fucking dog in heat… pathetic.” He commented, gripping on your hips tighter.

Wanderer: The only kink you know Wanderer possesses by now is Bondage. He’s not into extreme bondage where you can’t do anything at all, but instead simple things like a single blindfold, or handcuffs or both. That doesn’t mean he’ll absolutely rail you when doing so, actually he’ll be pretty careful with your pleasure now that you’re extra vulnerable. What he likes on it is the control of the handcuffs and the privacy he gets from the blindfold. For example, whenever you or him want to try a new position, he’ll try to ask you to wear a blindfold because he doesn’t want you to see him trying something new at all. He’s afraid he’s terrible at whatever you or him ask for.

“Is it too tight?” He asks you gently, after finishing the knot on the blindfold, with his head in your shoulders. “Alright then… may I start?” He asks, gripping on your wrists even if they were already handcuffed.

L - Location (Where do they most like to do it? And why?)

Scaramouche: Honestly… anywhere. Scaramouche doesn’t really care whether the door is open or closed or if it’s cold or hot outside. He’d do it in Tsaritsa’s bed if he had the chance. He usually prefers places where you can be heard or seen tho. He likes to make it clear to everyone that you are his.

“So what if the door is open? I’d let them see if I was you! Then they’d all know they have no chance with you because all that would go through your mind would be me topping you like this, and my cock making your insides mush.” Scaramouche joked while fucking you from behind in a restaurant’s public bathroom.

Wanderer: Anywhere that is private. Wanderer doesn’t want to be seen at all and especially… doesn’t anyone to see you. He’s very reserved about hisself but if anyone saw you in such an erotic state, blindfolded, handcuffed… he would probably threaten the person’s life. So, he’ll always makes sure nobody’s around, the door is locked and the windows are closed. But especially… he’d make sure Nahida wasn’t nearby.

“Don’t be so impatient. It would be irresponsible of me to leave the windows open.” Wanderer said while closing the windows in his room, pretty annoyed at your petty impatience to have sex with him.

M - Motivation (What makes them keep doing it with you?)

Scaramouche: Your persistence. Scaramouche really likes how you attract him into sex and how you fuck with him. You always bring different “challenges” to him, whispering in his ears and wearing lingeries under your uniform, which already turns him on instantly. But, since you usually lose the challenges, especially the ones you did, it makes him like the experiences even more. After the first time you two did it, where you lost, Scaramouche thought you’d never ask him for it again. But you did, and he was very surprised (in a good way). You turned a switch you can’t turn off. And now, he’ll constantly challenge you in bed.

“You really wanna challenge me into who’s cumming first again? Even if all the times you’ve done that were a victory for me? Ha… I wonder whether you’re challenging me or yourself.” He teased, already turned on, as he walked closer to you undoing his pants.

Wanderer: His love for you doesn’t only make him keep having sex with you but also makes him keep living. The care that you have for him didn’t seem to change even if you didn’t know his past self anymore. That makes him feel he won’t be betrayed romantically even if you’re a social butterfly. But… since you’re a human, it means that you’ll have to go one day (more known as “betray” in his head). So he wants to enjoy every second of you, the same way he wants you to enjoy every second of him. The way that you reassure him of his insecurities and traumas naturally just gives him too much pleasure, sexually or not.

“Say that again…” He whimpered in your ear desperately after you moaned that you loved him meanwhile he fucked you from behind. The way he moaned after you repeated it, this time with his name as well, was animalistic. “Oh yes… me too..! I love you too… I love you so much… I love you so fucking much..!” He confessed while accelerating his pace.

N - No (What are things they would never do while having sex? And why?)

Scaramouche: Scaramouche thought he didn’t have any no’s in sex until the day you joked about calling him Kabukimono or Kunikuzushi during it. He laughed at first but soon realized he actually hated that idea and kinda got mad at you for suggesting something so disgusting like that. It just felt wrong to have you calling him nicknames that came from people that had all betrayed him one day. His mother, his best friend and a sick kid? No. Just no. His name is Scaramouche and his title is The Balladeer. That’s all you can name him as.

“You only realized that what you said about calling me by my past names, given to me by terrible people, was terrible now?” Scaramouche asked angrily but also jokingly, avoiding eye contact like you were truly disgusting. You really didn’t know that those names were triggering to him and genuinely felt bad for him.

Wanderer: Wanderer has many more no’s compared to his past self and you. But aside from his past wishes he’s and the obvious no’s, his weirdest no in sex is you riding him. He just can’t feel comfortable in that position at all. You are the one who locks his hands against the bed, settle a rhythm for him to follow and especially, see him in such a deplorable state. He has been through so much humiliation and manipulation in his life that he really wants to stay far from anything that gives him the slightest feeling of being used. And that position gives him that same feeling.

“N-No..! I don’t like this… please stop..!” He asked desperately out of nowhere. You stopped riding him immediately and quit the position in a second, trying to comfort him and understand what was going on. It was the first time you two were trying that position. “I-I’m sorry, I just… don’t like to see myself in this position...” He explained, completely embarrassed for ruining the moment and gasping for air.

O - Oral (Do they prefer giving or receiving?)

Scaramouche: Giving. Scaramouche loves to see you crumbling from above him while he’s giving you a cunnilingus. And trust me, he is good at it. He’ll do it until your legs are trembling, trying their best to smash his head further inside you, until all you can mutter are moans and pleads for him to either fuck you or faster. Even if he’s not a huge fan of your hands gripping on his hair for dear life, he likes the fact that it basically means you are feeling the agony of being touched in such a sensible spot.

“I know, I know… but I’m having so much fun toying you here that I just… don’t wanna leave. Not until I’m satisfied.” Scara said between licks and breathes on your sensible clit. He continued to mouth you everywhere for barely an hour without breaking eye contact. Not even for a mere second.

Wanderer: Receiving. Wanderer is indeed a very reserved guy, that’s why you were so surprised to him like oral sex that much when you two first tried it. He was trying his best to not grip your hair too hard, to swallow his moans in, but it was too much for him. To have you kneeling at his front, sucking him so passionately and obediently was just too perfect for him. He felt such a huge feeling of power and privacy that made him fall in love with it. He never asks for it tho, because it is indeed a very embarrassing position for him.

“I-I’m sorry… I can’t hold it… this is too good…” He said between deep breathes, whimpers and moans as he gripped on your head tight to make you suck him faster. He was against a wall, barely managing to stand up. His other hand was trying its best to not grip on your head as well, scratching the wall for dear life.

P - Pace (Are they quick or slow? Rough or gentle?)

Scaramouche: It depends on what are you or him trying to do exactly. If he wants to edge you, he’ll go as rough as possible but torturously slow. If he wants you to cum faster than him, he’ll go as quick and rough as possible. He’s never going to be gentle to you, even if it’s supposed to be a more romantic sex.

“You like it here, yeah? Then I’ll fuck you right here until you’re brainless…” He commented, completely lustful for you and the moment as he roughly and slowly thrusted you all the way to your cervix, making you scream at each thrust.

Wanderer: He’ll most likely going to be slow and gentle most of the times. He wants this kind of moment to last as much as it can so both of you savor each other as much as you can, remember the feeling of doing that with each other and long to savor it again. He’ll never be rough with you, not at Scaramouche’s level. He’ll maybe go quick at you depending on the situation but usually he’ll just accelerate when you or him are close to climaxing.

“Faster..?” He asked, almost sounding like a husky whimper, when you whispered the command. “I will, my love… I will…” He said a little louder as he gripped and pushed your wrists harder in the bed and begun accelerating.

Q - Quickies (What do they think of quickies?)

Scaramouche: No matter where you two are, he’ll always ask for it when he finds the opportunity to have sex. A third person in the room said they’d go to the bathroom because they’re not feeling well and think they’ll vomit? He’ll not let you go help, instead, he’ll give you oral sex. Even if you two are caught he’ll most likely not going to stop. Why would he? It’s free porn for whoever is seeing anyway… and he’ll obviously be more obvious about it if the environment is private.

“This is a nice kitchen, isn’t it?” He asked playfully as soon as the last maid left the scene and closed the door behind you two. “The maids’ lunch last around 30 minutes… do you know what can we do in these 30 minutes?” He asked, stepping closer to you with a smirk forming in his face. “Hint: it’s something I’ve been longing for a while now…” He said, finally pinching your chin and pulling you for a hot kiss.

Wanderer: Wanderer is actually a big hater of quickies and will only do it if you want it, there’s time for an orgasm and no possible intruders. For example, morning sex. If he’s the one that wants it, he’ll just hold it until it’s safe and nighttime. He thinks quickies ruin the entire meaning of sex. The closure, intimacy, love and lust is barely existent when the intent of it is being quick.

“Are you sure..? You have many work to do today, I don’t want you to be late.” He asked you, his mouth centimeters away from yours as he held your hips gracefully. You slowly pulled him with you to the bed behind you as you said “yes”. “Are you really, really sure..?” He asked you again, and you finally convinced him that you wanted it.

R - Risks (How far are they willing to risk?)

Scaramouche: He’ll risk whatever goes through his or your mind. Public sex? Yes. Elemental Reactions during sex? Yes. Upside down sex? Yes. Sex inside Shouki no Kami? Sounds fun. He’s going to risk everything possible aside from his single no and your no’s if you even some.

“What about… a good old missionary at night, in the Anemo Archon’s statue? In the hands more specifically.” He asked as he stared at the statue with you. You had a mission to investigate the location of the Anemo Gnosis but he insisted on going with you since he had nothing to do.

Wanderer: Barely anything. All that he’s willing to try new fetishes and positions but it has to be in a extremely private scenario. Anything that is public or dangerous to your health will be instantly denied by him.

“Are you serious?” Asked Wanderer after you suggested having sex in the snow of Snezhnaya’s high mountains. “No. Absolutely not. I don’t want you to freeze to death because of a weird fetish. Here, just put this on and let’s continue.” He denied, giving you his hat in order to try warning you up better, insecure about your state.

S - Stamina (How far can they go?)

Since they’re the same person, they both have the answer, which is: days. They’re puppets, they were made to last way longer than a normal human being. Both of them could go as far as they wished to, but they know you are a mere human that can barely last a round. So they just decide to go until your limit.

T - Toys (Do they use toys? Which ones?)

Scaramouche: Personally, Scaramouche doesn’t really like to use toys. He likes natural sex, so that he can control you the way he wants to and show you how no one is better than him. And if there was a dildo shoved inside you rather than his actual dick, it’d make you feel better, and believe it or not, that thought actually makes him feel a little insecure. He also owns a plastic dick, so why don’t you feel better with his? So he decided to throw them away. But don’t you think it’s over! He owns a Vision and Illusion and he makes sure to use them greatly against you when he feels like it. So prepare to be zapped when receiving a cunnilingus…

“Harder..? How hard do you want it, huh? Like this?” He asked you jokingly before slightly zapping your clit using his fingers. “Ha… you actually seem to like this, don’t you..?” Scaramouche asked with a curious smirk before continuing moving his hand in and out of your pussy. But now with sudden zaps with no rythym to catch up on, making you have a pretty messy, electrical orgasm.

Wanderer: Since Wanderer like to have you using handcuffs and blindfolds, he can’t really say that he doesn’t like using toys. But he doesn’t feel like using any other toys rather than these two. Even after going through a rough existential crisis, he somehow still feels insecure about vibrators…

“These look so pretty in you, my love…” Wanderer complimented, gently caressing your wrists that had just been handcuffed with your newest pair of red handcuffs.

U - Unfair (How unfair and teasing are they with you?)

Scaramouche: Just like mentioned in G section, Scaramouche will always try to make the situation unfair to you. He’ll put you in difficult positions and situations, tease you both mentally and physically in search of full control of you and go silent to make you feel dirty by yourself. Even after sex he’ll mess with you! He wants you to go home with the thoughts of him. And it works, because no matter how unfair he is with you, you still play your part in his little game.

“The more you complain and beg, the more I’ll remain here.” Scaramouche threatened as he fingered you robotically, making you go nuts with such effortless thrusts.

Wanderer: The only unfair thing Wanderer might do in sex is taking his clothes off way after he took yours off. After that he’s an absolute angel. Why? Because he just wants to live a common human life, and you letting him have the experience of a romantic relationship and sex makes it so much better and real to his eyes. He’ll spend the rest of your days cherishing you.

“Sorry… I’ll take my clothes off now…” Wanderer said embarrassed at having you asking him that. But you two were making out for some good minutes by now and only you were naked for no reason.

V - Volume (How high are they? And what sounds do they make?)

Scaramouche: A stressed guy like Scaramouche barely makes any sound during sex at all. Initially, it was just because you two weren’t intimate, but it quickly became his thing. He wanted not only to hear all of you, but wanted you to hear yourself, moaning and whining so dirtily and desperately for the amount of pleasure he gave you. He’d be extra silent if you two could be heard or seen by a possible intruder having sex in a risky area. But he can go fully silent, and he does if he was doing it not on his mood, for example, if you challenged him in a time where he wasn’t longing for you. He’d be smirking the entire time, hearing you spill it all out while he was as quiet as a rock. But when he’s feeling pleasure, he’ll hiss a lot and groan shortly with his mouth closed most of the times.

“Are you trying to get attention, huh? Making so much noise over so little… I can’t wait to hear how high you’ll be screaming when I cum inside you.” Scaramouche whispered in your ear, trying his best to not let out a single moan, even if he was feeling as much pleasure as you.

Wanderer: Wanderer is also a pretty quiet boy when having sex, but this time is because he still doesn’t know how to express his pleasure. He feels so embarrassed and dirty making that kind of noise, afraid that you’d find him perverted or anything. It’s an irrational insecurity, he knows. You would moan and scream until all the air inside your lungs was gone and he wouldn’t think you were perverted like he thought it would happen to him. But he is slowly letting himself be more and more louder with you by slightly moaning in your ears and breathing hard.

“This feels… amazing…” Wanderer commented between low groans and pants, trying to not make too much noise. “I don’t want to stop…” He confessed, pushing you and him to the corner of the table to have a better angle to thrust you deep.

W - Wild Card (A random headcannon)

Scaramouche: He really likes kimonos. Since he’s from Inazuma, he was grown in a culture where kimonos are top fashion. That’s why his own uniform was designed with both Snezhnayan and Inazuman fashion. But during a mission assigned to you two in Inazuma of spying on the Shogun, the date coincidentally fell on a traditional Inazuman festival which you two decided to participate in search of the Shogun’s presence. But he totally forgot that during this day, the participants were supposed to wear kimonos to fit in, and oh… my… god. He couldn’t stop staring at you. He thought you looked beautiful in one but because of your relationship with him, it also made him feel turned on. He pulled to the first corner he saw and gave you a leg-shivering oral.

“You’re so lucky… that this dress is rented… or else I would be fucking you to oblivion in it right now… and ripping it apart after cumming all around it…” He teased between licks and breathes on the warm pussy he was eating.

Wanderer: Wanderer has a weird curiosity on the female human body and always likes to stare you at you like a piece of art whenever he’s seeing you naked. He thinks it’s so smaller than a male’s… but the curves and shape are so much prettier… he can’t describe it at all. But he really likes to stare at your anatomy while doing it with him or sleeping with him after it. And oh if you dare to try putting your clothes on after it.

“No, no. Stay right here. We have a blanket for that.” Wanderer said, pulling you through your wrist back to the bed, covering your body with your blanket afterwards. He waited until you were asleep to begin touching a piece of a hair while he looked at you up and down repeatedly.

X - X-Ray (How big are they?)

Since they’re the same person and puppet, both of them share the same answer: average sized. Even if Ei did put a dick in his body during his creation, she was no pervert and made it sized enough for an average vagina. He also cannot change its size or thickness, but he wish he could adjust to the perfect size to fill you all up with each thrust just he can adjust his neck and arms…

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Scaramouche: It is obviously pretty high, but he will never tell you that. He gets turned on with almost everything that you do. Your voice, body, manners, clothes… but he only shows his thirst for you when either you or him challenge each other in bed. The feeling of challenging or being challenged excites him a lot, and you know that he never resists when you whisper one in his ear. You’re still the one that takes most initiative in sex tho, but Scaramouche is probably going to take lead in that as well soon.

“You know just how to make me fuck you, don’t you?” Scaramouche asked, turning his face to you with a lusty smirk in his face. He was sat down at a chair in his office and you were whispering naughty thoughts right in his ear. You were asking for lose your ability to walk.

Wanderer: His sex drive is pretty average. He doesn’t get turned on with absolutely everything but still can feel amused with common daily things such as leaning your back to reach something that feel in the floor and jealously. Still, you’re definitely the one that takes most initiative in sex, to either make it or try something new.

“Can we… you know…” Wanderer whispered in your ear very lowly, completely out of nowhere and unable to finish the sentence. You two were simply about to sleep in a spooning position again. “Can we do it..?” He finally said it, making the situation unnecessarily tense and sexual.

Z - Zzz… (How long does it take for them to sleep after it?)

Scaramouche: You two don’t usually do it in nighttime, which naturally decreases the amounts of nights you have him sleeping with you, but even when it is, he’ll most likely wait for you to sleep in his arms and leave the scene quietly after some long minutes or hours. He’s a puppet, he doesn’t need to sleep. But the more you two explore and discover more about each other, the more he feels like letting himself get a bit of a rest after it by your side, hugging you like a squid using its tentacles. Don’t blame him, nightmares torment most of the nights he decides to sleep.

Wanderer: A few minutes. Wanderer doesn’t need to sleep as well, but he usually feels so in-love and thankful for you after a hot, lusty and tiring night of sex that he allows himself to relax and enjoy the beauty of the woman in front of him until he finally decided to close his eyes. And when he does, he’ll hug you very tight just like Scaramouche would and put your head under his for the instinct of protecting you from this cruel world. Plus, when he realized that he never had a single nightmare when sleeping with you, he stopped sneaking out and leaving the scene after you fall asleep, no matter how much he needs to do something outside the bed. He’ll reciprocate the comfort you give him every day.

#scaramouche #genshin scara #scara x reader #wanderer #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact #smut #abc

[ur-local-anti-hero]

Speak now

James Potter x Malfoy!Reader

Summary: If the marauders are against something, its agaisnt pureblood families ideologies. Sometimes that implies to wreak havoc on a white veil occasion.

Genre: Hurt/comfort, Fluff and a tiny bit of Angst. Arranged Marriage

CW: Forced Marriage, Familiar problems, talks about blood purity and blood traitors. Breaking into a weddig idk.

Word count: 2.2K

This is part of my Speak Now (Marauders’ version) collection 

“So don't say yes, run away now. I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door.

Don't wait, or say a single vow. You need to hear me out”

When you were younger you saw a fair amount of weddings. They were always presented to you as big emotional events in which two people promised eternal love to each other. 

Even when you didn't know anything about love as a kid, it was no wonder that you yearned to have your own wedding once you grew up. It was a dream to have your own white dress, a beautifully decorated venue and a partner you loved so deeply you’d be willing to spend your whole life with them. 

Looking back maybe you should’ve known better. The first sign should’ve been your surname. A Malfoy has expectations they have to meet, keeping the bloodline pure, for starters. 

The second one should’ve been your parents’ loveless marriage, when you were younger you used to wonder why they’d married at all, now it was quite obvious. 

The third and most evident should’ve been when Andromeda Black was disowned. At that time you didn’t truly understand what that entailed, and why it was such a hassle that she wanted to get married. Now you understood that the problem was not the wedding, if not the groom. 

All your fantasies about the commonly named ‘Big day’ were completely shattered when your 18th birthday came, and with it a letter from your parents which contained the name of your soon to be husband. You tried to fight it, which only made your parents move the date of the wedding forward and get you out of Hogwarts, your education didn’t matter anymore to them now that your future as a housewife was inevitable. And being away from Hogwarts also meant being away from the ‘bad influences’ in your life. 

Now the corset of your white dress was suffocating, you felt trapped. Looking at the mirror was like looking at someone else. The girl with lifeless eyes and heavy make-up that couldn’t hide her eyebags was supposed to be you, yet it felt like a perfectly modelated version of yourself, made to impress the high class families attending the wedding. 

Narcissa’s gentle hands were bradding your hair, finishing your look before the wedding. Usually her presence was able to calm you down. Ever since she married your older brother, Lucius, her presence was regular in family gatherings and you’ve always felt some kind of kinship with her, seeking shelter on her whenever the phony and pompous encounters became too overwhelming.

You could attribute your shifted feelings towards her to the fact that she was unknowingly preparing you for eternal misery, or maybe because she was replacing the ones who you would’ve chosen as bridesmaids - there was no place for muggleborns in an event celebrating the union of two pureblood heirs -. Or even because it was her little cousin the one you were to wed. 

“You look beautiful” said Narcissa once she was done with your hair. 

You nodded and gave her a small thank you. However, you disagreed completely, the girl she was looking at was not you, it was your parent’s perfect daughter. 

“You do look lovely, father and mother are going to be delighted” your brother’s voice came from the door, where he was leaning on. “I brought you some company” he gestured behind him. 

Pandora and Dorcas stormed into the room, the former embracing you into a tight hug when they spotted you. Lucius and Narcissa left the room. 

“How are you holding up?” Pandora asked as soon as the door closed behind Lucius and Narcissa. Her arms were still holding you tightly, Dorcas standing behind her. 

You shrugged at her, not being able to talk due the knot in your throat and the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You kept your eyes glued to the mirror. 

Pandora stepped out of the hug and stood next to Dorcas, who had yet to speak. 

“Evan and Barty are with Regulus, I swear I never thought I would see him in a tux” said Dorcas, trying to make conversation. The thought of Regulus being in the same situation as you didn’t make you feel better, the knot in your throat was getting tighther by the second. You promised to yourself you wouldn’t cry anymore, to be honest you thought you had run out of tears days ago. 

“Sirius is here too” Pandora was trying to distract you from the wedding. If she was being honest with herself there was nothing they could do to make you feel better. But maybe knowing that your best friend was out there could help a little. 

That made you finally look away from the mirror, a small wave of hope cursing through you. If Sirius was here it meant that James could be too. In the eyes of your family his family’s name was not good enough for yours, but maybe it was enough for him to be a guest. 

Maybe it was selfish to wish for him to be there when you knew how much it would hurt him, but you needed to talk to him, he was the only one who could actually comfort you right now, the only presence that would make everything feel normal again. You yearned to feel his touch against your skin and his lips against yours, even if it was for one last time, as a farewell. 

“Is he… Is James here?” you spoke for the first time. 

The answer was clear in the pitiful look they gave you even before Pandora replied with a soft ‘no’. 

You don’t know what did it, if the look in the faces of your friends or the fact that you would never see James again, but tears started rolling down your face. In seconds you were being embraced by Pandora again, and Dorcas’ hand was wiping away your tears. 

“It’s okay, you are going to be okay” Pandora didn’t believe her own words, but there was little she could do to calm you down and you both knew it. 

There was a knock on the door and your dad’s voice came from the other side “Y/N, it’s time” 

Pandora gave you a squeeze before letting you go from the hug. They both left the room, not without giving you a forced smile. 

“Oh, merlin” you said to yourself as soon as you were left alone, going back to the mirror, you wiped the few tears that were left on your face, and tried to fix the smudged make-up around your eyes with your fingers. You didn’t want to give your parents the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected you. 

Once you looked mildly presentable again you exited the room. Your father was waiting for you and he offered you his arm to lead you towards the venue. 

You could see the whole venue from the end of the aisle. The green and black motives contrasted beatifully with the white flowers decorating the aisle and the top of the altar. The guests were placed in black chairs at both ends of the aisle. 

You weren’t brave enough to lift your glaze from the ground, knowning that you wouldn’t see the love of your life waiting for you as you had dreamt since you were a kid. The heavy veil of your dress made your steps slow and lethargic. 

It was not until you were halfway down the aisle that you gathered enough courage to finally look at the man in front of you. Instead of the boy with unruly curly brown hair and eyes filled with love, there standing was Regulus, his black hair slicked back and eyes drowned by the same defeated look you wore. 

Once you reached his side everything went in a blur, all you remember is him taking your hands into his and the officiant talking. 

“If anyone has any objection, speak now or forever hold your peace” 

You were really going insane because you swore you saw James standing at the end of the aisle, wearing a tuxedo and with his hand up in the air. 

“I oppose!” His voice was loud and clear, your eyes widened. 

All the guests' eyes went to his figure and several surprised gasps were heard. Maybe you were not hallucinating. 

───✥───

If Fleamont Potter ever found out how James was using his inherited cloak of invisivility he’d be horrified, or maybe oddly proud of his son. 

Not even James thought he would ever sneak into a highly patrolled wedding on a common Tuesday, but honestly if someone had told him a year ago he’d be doing this he wouldn’t be surprised. 

Sneaking in a wedding filled with pureblood families and slytherin students was the perfect setup for a Marauders prank. However, what would have surprised him would’ve been the reason for interrupting a white veil occasion. Dating a Malfoy was something he hadn’t expected to ever do, but you had gotten past all his defenses with your kind and bright personality that proved to be so different from your family’s pretentious ways. 

Therefore, he was now standing on the aisle you had walked minutes ago. He had a perfect view of you and Regulus from his stance, your white dress was gorgeous, and your hair was neatly done. If it weren’t for your puffy and bloodshot eyes, and the obvious defeated look in your face, a look that had no place in a wedding, he could almost believe this was a normal marriage ceremony. 

When you had received the letter from your parents you had been inconsolable, and rightfully so. James had tried everything to stop the wedding, he even went as far as asking your parents for their blessing and to be the one you'd wed instead of the Black heir. Turned out to be useless as his family had been marked as blood traitors for eternity. 

But James isn't known for giving up easily, and the Marauders were not going to let an opportunity to cause havoc pass by. 

With the promise of being on his best behavior, Sirius had convinced his parents to attend the wedding as a guest, acting as a mole for his friends' plans. Remus and Lily were outside the venue with their ride home -a couple of broomsticks they borrowed from Hogwarts' supply closet. 

And the last part of the plan, and its success rested on James' shoulders. 

The preacher spoke 'Speak now or forever hold your peace' James smirked, that was his cue. It was on. 

James took off his invisibility cloak and without a single trace of shame or shyness in his voice James stated loudly "I oppose!"

James would've loved to stop for a moment to memorize the looks of complete horror in the faces of the guests, but he had to be fast and make total use of the element of surprise. 

Without hesitation James sprinted towards the altar. He could see the way your brother had stood up and pointed his wand at him, his spell being intercepted by Sirius' expelliarmus spell. 

As soon as James made it to the altar chaos erupted from everyone in the venue, he could make out the shouts of your parents and some spells that were being intercepted by yours and James' friends. 

At the sight of James Regulus let your hands go, he raised his arms in defeat and left the altar without much hassle. 

"Gentleman" James greeted Regulus' groomsmen, Barty and Evan who were just as stunned as everyone, all they could do was nod in acknowledgement to James, not even trying to interfere. 

"Hi, love" he was finally looking at you, your eyes were wide with surprise and tears were gathered in your waterline. James took your hands in one of his and the other was raised to stroke your cheek. 

“James what- how-” you were completely astonished, and unable to formulate a single phrase. You knew your boyfriend loved you, and the lengths he would go to prove it, but you would have never guessed he’d be willing to break into your wedding ceremony. He was always proving you wrong. 

“Hey Peter, mate, it’s your moment to shine” Following james’ words a rat came out of his pants’ pocket. 

And suddenly Peter was standing in front of you. He pushed the appalled officiant slightly to the side and took his place. 

Peter cleared his throat before speaking “Do you, James Fleamont Potter, take Y/N Malfoy as your wife?” 

“I do” 

“Do you, Y/N Malfoy, take James Fleamont Potter as your husband?” 

You could hardly mutter a low “I do” before Peter spoke again 

“I declare you husband and wife. You might kiss the bride” 

James didn’t hesitate for a moment. To add dramatism he spun you around and dipped you, holding your weight with his arm. And without waiting for another second he kissed you, sweet and slow, conveying all his love for you with that gesture. 

When you became breathless you broke the kiss and looked at James straight into his beautiful eyes, which only show deep adoration. “I love you” you mouthed to him, which made his eyes sparkle with joy and a wide grin to break into face. 

He took you in his arms bridal style and walked down the aisle. You coudln’t even care about the chaos and spells that were aimed your way, all you could look at was James. 

And as he muttered “I love you too, Miss Potter” you knew he’d do anything to prove his love for you. 

Author's note: This one is of my faves of the collection ngl, James is my soft spot Thank you for reading! Likes, comments and reblogs are welcomed and very appreciated. I'd love to hear what you thought about it so don't be shy!! To be part of the taglist Dm me or send me an ask <3 Taglist @feral-posts @izuoyarmin @aremuslupinsim @yourfavgay @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo 

#marauders fanfiction #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era #james potter #marauders fic #james potter x reader #james x reader #james x you #james x y/n #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter hurt/comfort #james potter fic #james potter x yn #james potter fanfic

[sleepingontheclouds]

i did a rant for Jason, now I’m doing a rant for my favorite superhero and occasionally morally grey person <3

I’m going to put a trigger warning here and now for the majority of this post. Discussing Dick Grayson for me means talking about very sensitive moments for his character, I will be mentioning and talking about some non-consensual events that happened to him in certain comic canons and one underage event. Please if this can/will trigger you, click off or skim over the parts where I mention it. I will highlight the parts where I actively speak about situations like that in red. Thank you.

Titans

I’ve watched to season 3 of Titans so far and I just gotta say, Dick’s character got a downgrade and an upgrade. Let me elaborate.

Firstly, I love what the writers did and how they characterized the boy wonder in season one. He was an authority figure, a protector. Literally the first time we are introduced to Robin and the first time we see Dick in the Robin suit, he’s brutalizing child abusers.

Throughout the entire first season there are multiple instances of Dick being very protective towards children and very aggressive with people he believes to hurt children.

In a later episode of season one, Dick tracks down a man with Kori after Rachel runs away with Gar. Once he realizes that the man has seen Rachel, let alone in the woods, he immediately goes into attack mode. At that point he believed that Rachel was alone, he didnt know about Gar and he didn’t know that she was with anyone. He punches the man and starts asking if he did anything to her, he goes protective and is very close to breaking that guys nose before his daughter runs out of her room and sees what’s going on, making Dick stop.

Personally, I loved that aspect of his character. It’s not only foreshadowing at the fact that he’s going to become an older brother, I personally think it also hints at a very traumatic event that happened to him in the comics.

It made me so sad to see him lose that aspect of himself after season one. I suppose the overprotective violence faded along side his other more regular violence.

I loved his violent characterization throughout the first two seasons, it really helps understand his character and him as a person.

In the first season, whenever he’s wearing the Robin suit he’s physically incapable of stopping himself from getting too violent, no matter how much he may want to without the costume on.

He stabs people, breaks peoples noses, nearly makes people bleed out, stomps peoples faces in, everything under the sun except kill them. That’s the whole reason he left Gotham, that’s the whole reason he held a grudge against Bruce in season one.

The journey we go through with Dick in season two is an amazing depiction of his character.

The literal order of events just screams mental breakdown to me and the episodes following made me think he had a psychological break, then we find out that he’s just like that.

The events go like this. First Dick starts seeing hallucinations of his father figure which he hates and that’s apparently just a normal thing that happens in Dick’s day to day life? Then he goes Robin mode, hurting a man he used to work with because he’s annoyed with the hallucination of his father. Then he goes to a dance club and nearly kills a man that works with Slade because he has a secret he needs to hide?? Then his traumatized nineteen year old brother tries to kill himself and what does Dick do? He trauma dumps all over Jason hoping that it’ll make him feel better and not want to die. (It doesn’t) then everyone he loves leaves him. He then decides to go visit the mother of the kid he thinks he got killed and finds himself talking to Slade. My guy then books a flight across the world because the fucking assassin with one eye who killed his own son said that he needed to repent by being in isolation?? You know what this dude does instead of going to Japan like he’s supposed to? He assaults two police officers to get himself seven years in jail. You know who he doesn’t tell? Gar. The teenager he left in charge of watching Superman’s clone with no other orders than, ‘call Bruce if he wakes up’ when he knows Bruce will not answer.

Then the dude breaks these gang members out of jail so they don’t get deported, that gets him thrown in solitary. You know what he does in solitary? Hallucinates his dad, fights him in his imagination, and then breaks out of jail.

When Dick eventually grows into his own person after all that insanity, when he becomes Nightwing— he forgives Bruce. It’s another aspect about his characterization that I love. Dick is forgiving, in a good and bad way, until he isn’t.

Dick doesn’t care what people do to him, it’s one of his biggest flaws. He lets himself get hurt over and over again and he just takes it. He lets his peers absolutely bash him and openly hate him, but he’s always still there for them. He always still supports them.

He knows Bruce turned him into a weapon, but he still went back. He went back and tried to ignore everything and forget about all the awful things Bruce did to him. He never directly talks to Bruce about it, sure he’s passive aggressive during [redacted’s] funeral dinner in season 2 but he never actually talks about anything.

The only time he snaps at Bruce is after Jason dies.

After his brother, who he didn’t treat like a brother, dies, he’s trying to cope. Everyone is. He knows Bruce copes in a different way and he respects it, what he doesn’t respect is the fact that Bruce is trying to rope in another child to be Robin. He’s trying to replace Jason right after he dies. That’s when Dick loses his temper.

Even after everything, it takes someone else being hurt for Dick to speak his mind. He never really stands up for himself, he stands up for other people and bottles in his emotions.

Comics

In the comics, Dick is much similar. He bottles up his emotions until he physically can’t.

He’s always trying to be happy, even Nightwing isn’t serious. For Bruce, Batman is a way to let out his true self. Batman is the real Bruce, Bruce Wayne is the mask he hides behind.

It’s exactly the opposite for Dick. Dick Grayson is the caring older brother who has no trauma and exists to help, Nightwing is the funny vigilante, he’s the protector of Blüdhaven who cracks jokes and never breaks a smile while fighting. Either way, Dick just trades in one mask for another.

The only times it’s genuinely him, is when he’s at his most vulnerable. When he isn’t around his family, his brothers, Bruce. That’s when the real him can come out, his real genuine emotions.

In a certain comic run that I’m unsure if it’s still canon or not, Dick gets assaulted. It’s before he has his facade, it’s right when it’s starting to develop. He’s sixteen.

Dick gets in a horrible fight with Bruce, it results in him either running away or getting kicked out, either way he isn’t with Bruce. The sixteen year old is left to fend for himself, then a 21 year old woman who’s targeting Wayne enterprises comes along.

She manipulates Dick and takes advantage of him (along with her husband I think) all to get to Bruce.

He never talks about it.

!! I WILL BE REPLYING TO THIS IN A REBLOG CAUSE THIS IS GETTING VERY LONG AND TYPING IS GETTING SLOW !!

#dick grayson #nightwing #trauma #dc titans #dc comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #batfam #jason todd #He’s so traumatized #:( #I love him #i love him so much #My poor boy #<333 #SORRY THIS IS SO LONG

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?

#i didnt really get to process it bc i found out when i was hanging w a friend but. im processing it now #sigh.. i dont know. i dont know. #at the end of the day he is and has always been someone else's cat. i can't control what she does with him #no matter what i think of it. she can always take him away. but every time it happens im just. im tired yknow? #it's worth it to me to have him around. i love him dearly and i want him to be in a home where he's actually cared for (which i have done my #best to provide) but he's just. not mine. and every time it happens i back up and think man. im such a sucker. #i don't think people manipulate me often. not in an ongoing way i mean. i don't think ppl see me as valuable enough to most of the time. #but damn. she really found my weak spots didn't she. free petcare courtesy of one chump who can't live without animals around. sigh #he deserves stability but he deserves love more. this weird shared custody thing is better for him i think. and frankly i also love him. #im not the priority here but my feelings are like. there. him being taken away without even telling me first hurts. i'd like to be able to #say goodbye to him. im not saying he has to stay or this has to go on but couldn't they just.. consider my feelings a bit more? #just bc you're fine with dropping your cat off somewhere for weeks not knowing when you'll see him again and not visiting doesn't mean i am #and i kind of feel like my roommate is part of this. after all it's not like his owner can just break into our room and take him #and if im always out when they do it there's a chance roomie's just shipping him off whenever she gets sick of him. #she's done it before. even after she agreed so vehemently with me about never wanting him to go back to such treatment and stuff early on. #she's been spraying him for little reason lately too. and i mean i get being a little more cautious with some things bc her neck's broken #but she's really fixated on how much he smells and bites and stuff and talks about how if i wasn't around she'd consider eating him #and then other times she's like that's my pookie. i don't get it. like yeah i tell rascal to fuck off sometimes bc he hurts me but it's not #like a hateful thing. i dont resent him for it i'm just annoyed sometimes bc he's maiming me a little. he's my baby. how could i loathe him? #so it makes me think that roomie might be blaming his transfers on his owner bc she doesn't want me to judge her #and like. this is her room too. it's not her fault she's more bothered by the smell than me. if she doesn't want to be bitten and clawed all #the time i can sympathize. i don't wanna force her to house him. but i wish she'd just be honest with me i guess #like. what if his owner decides to give him away without telling me? i'd take him in in a heartbeat. even though i know it's a bad idea. #but i'm worried he'll fall out of my reach completely. and at the very least I'd like to be able to say goodbye first. that's all.

[ishipgenfics]

Outsider POV on Somewhere Else Jonathan Sims must be just. so much.

Like imagine. You're part of a support group, and a new guy decides to join. You ask him his name and he says, "Jonathan," and then after a long pause, "Blackwood. Jonathan Blackwood. But call me Jon."

He doesn't like tape recorders. You only know this because the person who hosts the support group is into retro things, and tries to keep a couple around. She turned one on once when someone asked about it, and you noticed Jon clutching his nails into his hands so tight he's nearly breaking the skin. You lean over and whisper, "Do you want me to ask her to stop?" He says, "It's fine," and you nod, but you still try and change the subject whenever people bring up tape recorders from that point on.

He full-body flinches one day when someone says Hello, Jon. Nearly slams into a wall and everything. He tries to play it off, but after that people say Hi Jon, or Nice to see you, or things like that. Anything but Hello.

He says he used to work at a 'non-profit for studying the supernatural'. Someone asks where it was and he says London. You tell your wife about it, and two days later she emails you an article. Magnus Institute Burns Down In 1999. It was in Manchester. You tell her not to bring it up again.

The guy is snarky and blunt and downright rude at times, but when a woman comes in and tells them about being trapped in a empty warehouse for a week, he comforts her in a way none of the rest of them know how. "I believe you," he says, repeats it like a mantra, like a prayer. "I believe you." He says 'I'm sorry' less like he's sorry this happened to her, and more like he's taking the blame onto himself.

He talks about Martin, sometimes. His reason, he calls him. Normally you'd point out that while it's of course good to love your partner, you should have other reasons to live, but you stay quiet. This guy needs all the happiness he can get.

You leave a little late that day, and when you do you hear him on the phone talking to someone. "She'd been touched by the Lonely, Martin!" he says. "Which is bad, of course, but--" he seems to choke up, "Martin, I didn't feel any compulsion for a Statement. A-at all. I think it's really gone."

You just walk by.

You don't know what's going on with Jon, but it really isn't any of your business. You're an anxious queer lesbian and he's a traumatized ace guy, and you aren't going to make his life any harder than you have to.

Just. Jonathan Sims in a support group.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #fanfiction #fanfic #story #story snippet #story ideas #somewhere else #tma #might make another post about martin if the inspiration strikes me #also i've never actually been in a support group so #sorry

[ceilidho]

prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 5; ghoap x reader) part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

-

Give him blood and he’ll give you something new to chew on.

Except that isn’t the way it goes. Not this time at least.

He tries to talk Ghost out of it, but it falls on deaf ears. Blatantly ignored. The car barrels down the motorway under the cloak of night, a swell of stars overhead as the city falls farther behind. Radio shut off. Johnny thinks if Ghost had his way, the radio would’ve been pulled out entirely, just wires and an empty, black cavity in the dashboard, but it’s a rental. 

And no one wants to deal with the paperwork involved in damaging military property. Not even Ghost.

Ghost won’t so much as glance over at him. Unaffected as ever, as if they didn’t just fuck. Johnny’s stomach hurts when he thinks about it. Even without her knowing, he’s broken his girl’s trust. Not for the first time; maybe not even the last. His guilt echoes not only that he let Ghost make him come, but that he liked it—that the buzz in his bones says do it again, please god, again, please let me come, I need to come, touch me, please—

He thinks about his girl, then turns to Ghost again.

In the pit of his stomach, Johnny knows this is wrong. In his rational mind, he knows it. If he were in a better place, he wants to think that he’d make a real attempt to change Ghost’s mind, maybe get him to turn around at the next gas station, but he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in his belly at the prospect of seeing his girl again after a week of nothing. 

The silence has been eating away at him. Bits of his brain flaking away, moth-eaten. Checking his phone again and again to no new messages, getting the same voicemail message whenever he calls. Something flutters high in his chest, an itch he can’t scratch; it tells him to take off in the middle of the night, drive all the way back home and pound on her door until she’s forced to answer it, forced to talk to him face to face.

Again and again, he tries looking at it from her perspective—tries to empathize with her. What he would’ve done in her shoes had she allowed a coworker to grab his dick in front of a crowd of strangers. It’s more than fair, he thinks. His own shame leaks out of his pores in the middle of the night, sleeping on top of the covers because he sweats right through the sheets. 

And yet, he keeps butting up against his own anger. Talk it out with me, yell at me, he growls into her voicemail, anger growing as the days pass one by one. 

It’s the road that alerts him to their arrival into the city more than anything. More cracks in the asphalt, the car rattling over sewer depressions and potholes in a way that says home sweet home. Usually it’s a source of comfort, like seeing the silver lining on grey clouds or the iridescence in an oil spill, purples and greens catching the light. Not now. Now the road winds like descending into the underworld, each turn coming with a sinking feeling. 

They park down the road from the flower shop, tucked just out of sight. A cool breeze wafts over his hot face when he steps out of the car. It nearly rocks him back. When he glances up, his heart stutters at the sight of her bedroom window, sealed tight now. Only cracked open during their sleepovers, when Johnny runs a bit too hot at night for them to sleep comfortably with the window closed. 

“Should I…do ye want me to give her a call to wake her up?” Johnny asks tentatively, shutting the car door softly so as not to make a noise. 

Ghost shakes his head. “We’ll let ourselves in.”

Johnny’s picked hundreds of locks in his time; he’s jimmied open doors with crowbars, set up explosive charges, used a good old fashioned ram from time to time—no stranger to the trade—but it feels decidedly uncomfortable with Ghost at his back, staring down at him as he breaks into his own girlfriend’s apartment. 

“This is a bad idea,” he grumbles, turning the pick in the lock until he hears a familiar click inside. 

Ghost doesn’t answer, just raps his knuckles against the back of Johnny’s head. A silent get a move on. 

Her apartment looks the same but different when they enter it. His muscles remember the layout though. The pink couch in the living room with two dimpled pillows on either side, the footstool by the door, the stand with her shoes all piled in neat little rows, the vase on her kitchen island with a fresh new bundle of flowers, fragrant when he dips his head to take a whiff. He’s loved flowers ever since meeting his girl. 

Ghost doesn’t try to muffle his footsteps for once. He rummages through her cabinets and drawers with all the finesse of a first time burglar looking to get caught. It smacks of intentionality. Johnny’s worked with him too many times in the field to know that if Ghost wanted to disappear into the darkness, he would. He’d be the thing creeping silently through the shadows, tread lighter than air, close enough to touch but never see. 

So it’s more than deliberate when he noisily shuts a drawer. Baiting her out. 

It’s no surprise when Johnny hears her creep around the corner from out of her bedroom. He’s tucked in the shadows of the living room, just out of the light, so he sees her first when she comes silently down the hall, whole body trembling with fear, the bat she keeps beside her bed drawn over a shoulder. Even her hands shake around the grip.

Of course she yelps when Johnny says her name, stepping out of the shadows, swinging wild. He winces when the bat smashes into a lamp, shattering it on impact. 

“Fuck!” she screams, scurrying backwards into the wall behind her. Several framed pictures rattle against the wall, nearly knocked off their hooks. 

“Noisy, isn’t she?” Ghost grumbles from the kitchen, tossing a bored glance over, unbothered by the commotion. He undoubtedly heard her creeping down the hall as well. 

“What the fuck?” she gasps, chest heaving when she breathes. Her eyes dart from Johnny to Ghost’s massive form in the other room. Poor nervous thing. She must recognize Johnny’s voice saying her name even through the panic because her lips droop in a frown, more confused than petrified.

“Hen, it’s jus’ us—nothing to worry about,” Johnny coos, hands stretched out in front of him to show he means no harm. 

It gets her to lower the bat, but only just, the slightest dip that has him darting forward to pry it gently from her hands. The ceramic shards on the floor will have to be swept up later, but he’s relieved that at least she didn’t step on any of them. 

Up close, she’s just as pretty as he remembers. Pretty as pie. How could she not be? In the glow of youth still, not like it's been a decade since they last spoke face to face—only a little over a week. A sight for sore eyes, even though Johnny’s narrow when he stares down at her and thinks about the week of his texts and calls going unanswered. His jaw undulates, rage held back by the thin thread of her scent that wafts under his nose, making him lean into her. 

Breathe in and out. 

“Us?” she repeats, brow furrowing.

She glances over at Ghost again, the man still ambling around the kitchen, at home in her little one bedroom apartment like he visits her frequently. Like it’s his as well. 

“Aye…Ghost wanted to come—Simon wanted to apologize…for the other day,” Johnny explains. 

“You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night…so Simon could apologize for sexually harassing me?” she says, the disbelief smacking in her words. 

“Hen, it's no' nice to say it like that—” 

“No time like the present,” Ghost says, not ashamed in the slightest. “Heard you weren’t taking Johnny’s calls. Might not’ve had to do this if you’d picked up.” 

Johnny doesn’t believe a word of that, but there’s no reason to call him out on it now. 

He can see her wrestle with a trifecta of emotions competing for first place. Anger, embarrassment, and then, a smidge of worry holding up the rear. Aware of the fact that she woke up to two grown men, one practically a stranger, breaking into her apartment under the guise of having a conversation. His heart aches at the thought. The lion’s share of the blame rests with him, but still it’s her that suffers for it. 

“You…you shouldn’t be here,” she rasps, flinching when Johnny lays a hand on her waist, towering over where she’s still cowered against the wall. Bat gone now, defenceless. Her pupils narrow to a pinprick. He almost tuts, poor thing. Scared out of her wits. 

It feels so good to touch her though. Soft and yielding. 

“‘Was Simon’s idea, hen, but, ah—” his breathing picks up when his fingers tighten on her waist and she squirms “—I was goin’ crazy thinkin’ ye were pissed for what happened last week. Couldnae get a wink of sleep—kept closin’ my eyes and seein’ your face. Nearly broke me.”

“I am pissed at you,” she snaps, temper getting the better of her.

“I ken, I ken,” Johnny coos, ducking his head until his lips graze her temple. “Simon’s sorry—we came all the way here so he could tell ye to your face, but fuck, hen, I’m sorry too—shoulda said something instead of standin’ there like a fuckin’ dolt—”

“You should’ve,” she interrupts, still fuming mad, an iceberg melting right in front of them. It makes his cock pulse.

“—Aye, hen, I’ve no excuse, none at all. Shoulda told Simon to fuck off and keep his hands to himself—”

“Careful, Johnny,” Ghost says warningly, finally stepping into the living room. He fills out the archway imposingly, almost forced to twist his body on an angle to step in. 

Her eyes cut over to Ghost, narrowing, lips pursing. Johnny’s heart jumps in his chest. It’s one thing to see his girl again in the flesh, but to see her all righteous and on the verge of an argument—he could bend her over the back of the couch now, sink into the plush, delicate folds of her pussy, reacquaint himself with deep, languid thrusts. Heaven after not getting his cock wet in a week.

He flinches when he thinks about the last person to touch his dick. 

“So you’re sorry?” she says to Ghost, her disbelief clear. Difficult to see why she wouldn’t find it hard to believe that the man that shamelessly grabbed her ass in broad daylight in front of a group of his colleagues and her boyfriend would now choose to apologize. 

Johnny knows the answer is no when he sees the way Ghost’s eyes rove over her body, taking stock of her little cotton pajamas and her bare feet curling against the cold floor. Ghost tilts his head to the side, eyes travelling back up to meet hers. “Sure I am, bird. Don’t I look sorry?”

Neither of them answer that. Arguing with Ghost feels different, like inviting in danger. Moving too suddenly in front of a hungry dog, jowls loose and salivating for a bite. 

He takes a step closer. “Complete pillock, wasn’t I? And now Johnny’s getting the silent treatment ‘cause of it. Just couldn’t bear another second of him moping around base on the verge of tears.” 

Johnny frowns at that. His girl frowns too, but there’s something more to it. He wouldn’t blame her for not accepting Simon’s apology, if he could even call it that—nothing about it rings sincere, more like words spoken softly to call a kitty over—but questioning it feels worse somehow. Like detonating a bomb at two thousand feet above ground. 

“…Okay,” she says instead, voice trembling a little. “Apology accepted. You guys can go home now.”

“Bird’s forgiving, huh, Johnny?” 

Johnny preens despite himself. “Aye. She’s a good girl, Lt. Told ye so.”

Ghost nods. “That’s right. A good girl who’s gonna let us make it up to her ‘til we have to report back in forty-eight hours.”

“Wait, you can’t—” she starts, then cuts herself off when Ghost’s eyes flash.

He can’t help the way he shudders at the helpless look on her face. Downturned eyebrows, pretty lips slack with disbelief, just the slightest hint of a whine building in her throat that dies when it dawns on her that nothing short of calling the cops will make the two of them leave. 

And she’s a good girl—would never call the cops on him. His perfect girl. Sweet as pie. 

Johnny falls in love a little bit more when she presses her squeezed fists against her eyes and exhales. “Fine. I’m too—I’m going back to bed. We can talk about this in the morning.”

Ghost doesn’t react to her acceptance. It’s taken as a simple fact of nature—he says something and it happens. He speaks the world into being. 

“I’ll take the couch,” he grunts, finally sitting down to unlace his boots. He looks comically large on her little couch—it’s more than likely that his feet will hang off the end, if not everything from the knee down. 

Johnny already figured as much. No point in them driving all the way back to base when they both have the next two days off duty and there’s a perfectly serviceable couch for Ghost and the other half of her bed for him. He thought they’d have to convince her a bit more or strong arm her into it (a putrid thought; he’d rather have sweet talked her into the idea), but his girl always manages to surprise him in the best way. 

On that thought, he looks over his shoulder towards the bedroom door, cock throbbing again at the thought of getting to hold his girl’s body against his. Touch starved dog. Mangy mutt, tongue lolling out at even the possibility of a pet. 

Ghost must notice the object of his gaze because he sets him straight. “You can take the floor, Johnny.” 

His tone brooks no argument. When Johnny whirls around, the words already on his tongue, she’s my girl, I’ve already slept in that bed ten times over, the sight of Ghost’s bare face, the mask now off, dangling in his hand like some scrap of fabric, makes him lose his train of thought. It’s not often he’s granted the luxury of seeing Ghost’s face—wide, clean shaven jaw, buzzed blond hair, old burn marks like a half-moon around his eye, nasty old scar slicing through his lips—and to see it now, here, makes something in him give. 

Saturnine man with a wolf’s appetite. Ravenous. 

It burns him that his girl looks slightly relieved at having the bed to herself. Irks him. Makes his jaw clench on a mean remark, half tempted to spit out something cross. Just because things have gotten complicated, now he’s not welcome in her bed? After the week he’s spent toiling, trying to make amends? Pleading desperately over the phone, stewing in guilt and heartache—Johnny knows she’s a good girl, but if he finds out that she’s replaced him with someone else in the week since they last saw each other—

Even the thought makes him see red.

He watches her as she turns around to retreat back to bed, more than a little displeased. 

“Give Johnny a little kiss before bed, why don’t you, bird?” Ghost lightly suggests. Not a suggestion. 

She freezes mid-turn. His expression dares her to put up a fuss. Johnny again nearly clucks his tongue, troubled on her behalf. Her spitfire nature is snuffed out easily under that stare. Grown men with experience in the field wither under Ghost’s stare. It’s no weakness of hers that she acquiesces time and again to his demands, glancing up at Johnny from under her eyelashes before shuffling over, pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Better than that,” Ghost grunts, unimpressed. 

His poor darling. Humiliated now. No skin off his back though. Johnny’s heart pumps double time when she presses her lips to his; soft petals that spread when he slips his tongue into her mouth, too eager after a week of nothing. Touch starved. Desperate to sink into her, lap his tongue over her lips and the roof of her mouth and press her jaw open to spit messily in her mouth. Take it, hen, every piece of me.

She rips her lips from his and dances away when he tries to get his hands on her, eyes wide, casting one last glance over at Ghost before hightailing it back to her room. 

He barely resists going after her. Only Ghost’s stare roots him in place; his voice in Johnny’s head that rumbles, heel. I’ll tell you when to go.

He still doesn’t know what it says about him that he angles himself towards it. Bows his head to it. Moth to a flame that shocks him to the bone when he touches it.

Ghost tosses him the second pillow from the other end of the couch and takes the only blanket for himself. No matter. Johnny’s bivouacked on snowy cliff sides, chilblains blistering his toes for weeks; nights spent camped in torrential downpours, his tent on the verge of collapsing; windswept baysides chilling him to the bone. He can handle a pillow on a hardwood floor. 

The ebb and flux of an ocean in his ear, and then Ghost’s voice from the couch: “I’ll take first watch.”

Whole body falling loose as if snipping a cord tethering him to the world. 

“I’ll clean up the lamp in the morning,” he mumbles, vision already blurring. Ghost hums low in his throat.

He falls asleep with Ghost’s voice in his head, his girl’s taste still in his mouth.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #soap/reader #ghoap x reader #ghost/soap/reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

hellooo, your writing is amazing so far i love it 🫶🏼

Could you do one for Hobie x fem reader, where the reader is friends with SpiderPunk AND Hobie. But she doesn’t know they’re the same person. And one day lovergirl rants about her fat ah crush on Hobie to him??

First off, thank you for enjoining my writing, I try my best with what working brain cells I have left 🤣

Ooh I love this idea very much! But I might make it a two parter cuz I defiantly went off request…oops…

Part 2

You were just minding your business, chilling on the roof top of an abandoned apartment complex, mind a million miles elsewhere on a certain somebody when a flash of red and blue caught your eye and before you knew it; you company of one had became a company of two.

‘Heya Spidey, how are things?’ You greeted.

He shrugs, ‘the usual but what about you lil missis,’ he playfully nudges you, ‘head so far off into the clouds I’m actually feeling a little neglected over here.’ You laughed, shoving him away by his arm. ‘Oh come off it, will you? I just been thinking about this guy I’ve liked for a while now.’ You admitted and Hobie’s interest was immediately peaked.

For as long as he knew you, Hobie could barely remember the last time you had ever admitted to him in fancying someone, besides from a couple of incidences from way back that ended up backfiring; but other then that, you kinda made it a point not to talk about it, maybe in due to him thinking that whoever you did fancy at the time weren’t worth the effort you’d give had you perused them. You had often called him overprotective whenever you tell him about your crush of the week but Hobie would defend himself by saying he was merely looking out for you and didn’t want you getting hurt by some douchebag.

‘You don’t have to defend me from everything Hobie,’ you once told him as you were patching him up from beating the breaks off of your last crush because they were chatting shit about you behind your back, ‘whilst as sweet as it is but you can’t always be there to look out for me.’

‘Watch me.’ He replied, his view remaining completely unchanged. You sighed, knowing that once Hobie’s mind was made up, nothing you nor anyone else could do to change that. He was an akin to that of an immovable object when it came to his beliefs and views and it was amongst the many things you adored and admired about him most.

‘Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guy?’ He asked casually leaning back on his arms, watching as you brought your knees close to your chest before resting your chin upon them as your eyes gaze out at nothing in particular; something Hobie noticed you often do when you were particularly in your feelings and needed something to hold onto and ground yourself before you became adrift in your own sea of emotions. It was cute to see you tucked in on yourself so tightly that he couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see how dopey he must’ve looked beneath his mask.

‘Hobie. Hobie Brown.’

He blinked twice, nah, he must’ve heard that wrong, surely, his hearing must be going all scewiff.

‘Hobie Brown.’ He said his own name as though it was the first time he was ever saying it. Upon seeing the way your shoulders drop and your body becoming at ease upon hearing his name, along with the way you smiled gently and how your eyes seemed to beam with newfound light which all had only helped In affirming to Hobie that he did indeed hear you the first time. ‘What is it about the guy that’s got you all up in knots?’ He asked, trying to act as though you didn’t just indirectly admitted that you’ve got a crush on him to him.

‘Where do I start.’ You started, unable to fight against your own feelings that were swelling up within your chest when an image of Hobie appeared in the forefront of your mind, he was sat on your bed, eyes closed as he allowed himself to get lost within his guitar rifts, his calloused fingers expertly transitioned from chord to chord as it were muscle memory. ‘He’s just so cool and awesome and so forthright and opinionated in his views and beliefs that he’s not afraid to back down from a fight should it come down to it.’ You tell him with a sense of fondness in your voice.

Hobie was quick to notice how your hand fiddle with one of the many handmade pins he’s made you that you always paired up with any and every outfit you ever wore, even if they styles did clash but you didn’t seem to care; Whatever the reason for you reaching for the pins were, whether it’d be out of a need to feel out the closest thing you had in regards to him or it was just something you did out of habit, made Hobie warm within his chest that soon spread throughout his body. ‘Sounds like me and this Hobie guy are more alike then I originally thought.’

Your fingers stopped their fiddling and you suddenly looked at him as though you were just now realising something with the way your eyes bore into him, Hobie thought that you might’ve developed the ability to see through the mask that withheld his identity and into him, so much so that he couldn’t help but make a comment on it, ‘stare at me any harder sweetheart and your stare might burn right through my mask.’ You must’ve been deep into your thinking as you didn’t seem to have noticed that he had spoken at all and Hobie was starting to think that he might’ve been too relaxed with you as Spider-Man that you might have started to have it pieced together in your mind; after all you were smart, more so then what you give yourself credit for.

‘Now that you’ve mentioned it you and Hobie do share some of the same attributes and habits, I’m also pretty sure your similar height wise and even though your mask muffled your voice, it fills me with a sense of familiarity that it’s hard for me to put a finger on.’ You said as you leaned closer to him until you were partially merely a breath away from each other. Hobie didn’t know he was holding in a breath until you shrugged ‘but I could just be grasping at a straws, so I won’t dwell on it as much.’ and moved away from him back to your previous position.

As much as he would’ve loved to have you figure out his identity on your own terms. Hobie would prefer it best if he were the one to reveal himself to you but the moments where he wanted to never felt right and he didn’t want to you in danger by doing so, but he knew that there’d come a time where he would be greeted with a choice in wether to tell you the truth as to who he was or continue living like he has currently and potentially loose your trust because of his lack of transparency; Hobie couldn’t bear to think of loosing your trust but just as he has always done since becoming your friend, he was merely looking out for you and for your safety as they were always his top priorities.

#spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman atsv #spiderman atsv x you #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman atsv imagines #spiderman atsv fic #spiderman atsv imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderpunk x reader #hobie brown imagines #hobie brown x you #hobie brown imagine #hobie x reader #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderverse x reader

[finelinefae]

tongue-tied

synopsis: y/n has a stutter and harry likes to hear her talk

word count: 3.1k

contains: fluff, highschool romance, harry's a football player, popular boy x shy girl, brief mentions of bullying

a/n: happy soft girl Sunday !! I wasn’t planning on posting just because I posted the second part of the aviator a little later than I was meant to but I could resist putting this one out <3

. . .

“E-excuse me!” Y/N weaved her way through the mass exodus of students heading in the opposite direction to the lunch hall. She had tried to leave class a few minutes before the lunch bell to avoid the large groups of people but she had been so invested in writing her essay, she’d lost complete track of time. 

She was running as fast as she possibly could to get to the library, knowing the person waiting for her wouldn’t get too impatient but she didn’t want to waste a second of their lunch break not being with him. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, her braids flying behind her and her knee-high socks falling down her calves. 

Y/N barely registered the people around her, wondering where she could be going in such a rush, until her face collided with soft, grey fabric. Before she could even get embarrassed and profusely have to apologise for bumping into them, long arms snaked around her, hands clasping behind her back. She caught a whiff of his woody cologne and the floral fragranced detergent his mum always used to wash his school uniform.

“There y’ are, Dove.” He murmured, “I was starting to get worried.”

Y/N looked up and settled on those familiar green eyes she loved so much. She relaxed into his embrace, “Harry,” She sighed. 

Harry and Y/N had been dating since they were fourteen. If it weren’t for the fact that their parents all worked together at the local hospital, they probably would never have met at all, although Harry liked to believe they were fated to be together so they would have ended up meeting each other some way or another. 

Harry had always been popular at school. For one, he was on the football team which instantly made him a name within their year group. He was also very handsome for his age. Girls would whisper and giggle whenever he passed by in the hallways even those from the lower years. Despite the fact they had just turned seventeen, Harry could honestly pass for an almost twenty-year-old with how tall and mature he was. 

Y/N was the complete opposite. When it came to her social life she was shy and not often one to make friends easily. She was part of the arithmetic club and had made a few friends there and in some of her other classes. She liked to keep to herself and struggled to talk in class not only because she was quiet but also because she had a particularly bad stutter. 

It had developed when she started High School. She had been to multiple speech therapists to help her get rid of it and although it wasn’t as bad as it used to be, it still never failed to make her life all the more difficult than it already was.

A lot of the other kids liked to pick on her for it too. Whenever teachers picked on her in class and she’d reply, the rest of the class would start snickering, whispering in each other’s ears. She wanted to be invisible to everyone but it was her stutter that made her stand out.

When Harry’s family would come over to Y/N’s house for dinner, her parents would often force them to go off together whilst the adults spoke in the dining room. She remembered the first time she invited him into her room and how embarrassed she was when he saw all her comic books lying on the floor that she had forgotten to put away. But it eventually became the seed of their relationship, the common ground that allowed them to bond. 

Soon Harry was inviting Y/N to his football games and up to his room every other weekend when she’d come over with her parents. They’d exchange comic books and talk about their favourite characters. Y/N was always apologising for her stutter whenever she’d ramble on for too long but Harry never cared, he loved hearing her talk. 

Their first kiss was on her bed whilst their parents were in the room below them. Harry was the one to initiate it and Y/N hadn’t been expecting it so it was slightly awkward at first but then she got used to it and eventually all she ever wanted to do was kiss him. Every weekend, whether at her place or his, all they did was sneak around and kiss each other, giggling and falling in love all at the same time. 

Now, three years later, things were still the same except they were older now and more in love than they were yesterday. 

Wherever you looked, Harry was there, and Y/N was never too far behind. Students had grown accustomed to their relationship, and the bullying Y/N endured wasn't as severe as it used to be. Even teachers couldn't help but be enamoured with their young love — how fortunate it was to find love at such a young age. 

Things were great, everything was great and Y/N had hoped she could finish her last year of High School on a high note. That was until she entered her English class on a Friday afternoon when the teacher announced it was time for their presentations which would go towards their final grade. 

“I can’t Harry!” Y/N cried into her pillow after school, Harry was sitting on the end of her bed with his back against the wall as he rubbed his hand up and down her back. 

“I know Dove,” He comforted her, already knowing the reason she was so upset over it.

“Everyone’s going to l-laugh at me,” She could already picture herself standing up in front of her class and everyone pointing and laughing at her. 

Harry sighed, “Dove,” He shook her gently, “Will y’ look at me?” 

Y/N hesitated before turning her head so her cheek lay against the pillow. Harry smiled and lay on his side in the spot next to her, their faces inches apart, “There’s m’ pretty girl,” He cooed, his heart hurting at the tears on her cheeks. He cupped her cheek in his big hand and wiped some of those tears away with his thumb. 

“I-It’s not fair,” She huffed, “Why’d I have to have this stupid stutter.” 

“Hey,” He frowned, “Enough of that hmm? Everything about you is beautiful, y’ know I love to hear y’ talk. Could sit here for hours and just listen.” 

“But you’re d-different,” She whined, shuffling closer to him so she could hide her face in his grey jumper. Her stutter was rarely ever that bad in front of Harry which was why he was the easiest person she could talk to. 

Harry laughed breathily, his hand going to her hair to play with the strands, “Would it help if I helped you a little?” 

“How?” Y/N asked, her words muffled by his jumper.

“We could practise in the library at lunch, y’ could read me a few things and it might help your stutter.”  He thought.

Y/N’s head looked up to his face where she could count every mole and freckle on his nose and cheeks. She couldn’t help but pucker her lips to kiss his jawline, “That’d be nice,” She murmured. 

“Yeah?” He smiled, kissing the top of her head in return, “I only want to help you so if you don’t enjoy it or you’d rather practise alone then y’ can tell me,” 

She shook her head, “N-No, I want to do that with you. I’d like it very much.” 

So it became a daily occurrence, five days a week during lunch hours when Harry didn’t have practice, they’d sit in the library and Harry would pick out a book for them to read. They started with simple YA books with less complicated words. 

“Good job, Dove!” Harry cheered every time Y/N finished a chapter. 

“Wait I’m not done,” She huffed and then said the last line just for Harry to cheer for her again just as proudly as the first time. 

Now that the day of her presentation was getting closer, they had finally made their way onto Classical novels which Y/N had come to despise. 

They walked with their hands intertwined to the library after Y/N had bumped into him in the hallway. It was natural as they stepped into the library and headed straight to their table in the corner hidden away by two tall bookshelves. 

Y/N placed her bag under the chair whilst Harry unzipped his to pull out the book they were currently reading. It was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, even looking at the front cover made Y/N’s stomach turn. 

“A-Are you sure we can’t go back to YA books?” Y/N huffed, taking the book and opening it up to the chapter they were last on. 

Harry laughed, “But you’re doing so well, Dovey.” 

“I-it’s hard though and the w-words are so tiny.” She pouts, Harry can’t help but lean forward and kiss her. 

“C’mon, jus’ a few pages and then I can show y’ something I got for you.” He tried to persuade her, knowing the surprise would be enough to win her over.

“Fine,” She sighs dramatically. 

She read for five pages, Harry listening intently to every word. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke, stumbling over a few words here and there. He tried to hold back from smiling so much with how concentrated she was on each letter of every word. He thought it was adorable how her eyebrows creased and her hands gripped the book. 

Eventually, she had enough, placing the book down on the table and closing it shut. “Good job baby!” He cheered, pressing multiple kisses to her cheek, “M so proud of you.” 

Y/N giggled, “Thank you, Harry.” 

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his blazer for the surprise he had promised her. Y/N looked down and saw a small, black pouch in his hand. He gave it to her, her fingers carefully pulling on the ribbon before pulling out the small item inside. 

“It’s an anxiety ring,” Harry explained as she held the silver ring in the palm of her hand. He picked it up and slid it on his pinkie finger to show her, “Y’ can twist this band whenever you feel nervous, thought y’ could wear it on the day of your speech.” 

He passed it back to her, Y/N narrowing her eyes to look at the spinning band which had a small inscription written on it, ‘i love the way you speak almost as much as i love you, your harry.’ 

Y/N’s eyes watered, unable to come up with the right words to say how much she adored it as well as the boy sitting in front of her. Instead, she leapt forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, “Thank you,” She murmured, “I love it. I love you.” 

Harry softened even more from her embrace, “I love you more, Dove,” He whispered. 

Y/N pulled away enough to kiss his lips, she was thankful for the privacy they had in the back of the library since she was never that good with public displays of affection and all she wanted to do now was kiss him because she was so grateful for him being there all the time. 

It wasn’t long before the day of her presentation. After school, Y/N had been working on a short essay. She was going to speak to the class about her favourite comic books and why she loved them so much. She had recited the words out loud to herself and Harry and even her parents, that she could probably speak it off by heart. 

Harry and Y/N stood outside the school. Her English class wasn’t until the third period but she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate in her morning classes until the presentation was over. Harry was wearing his football uniform because he had a game against another school in the morning. Y/N had been with him after school as he practised for it, wearing his coat as she wrote out her speech on a notepad. 

They stood side by side facing the school building as if it was some kind of beast they had to tackle, “O-okay,” She huffed, “I can do this,” 

Harry looked down at her smiling and then reached for her hand, “You can do this,” He squeezed her fingers in encouragement. 

“Good l-luck with your game today,” She grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Thank you, baby,” He spoke softly, “Y’ can tell me all about your presentation and how well it went afterwards.”

“Okay Harry,” She nodded, completely determined despite how nervous she was. She had spent weeks preparing, she couldn’t let fear get the best of her. 

“Good luck kiss?” Harry grinned, cheekily. 

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes and craned her neck to kiss his lips. Harry held her face in his hands, unable to pull away from her even when she tried to, “I love you,” He murmured against her lips.

“I love you too.” She sighed, blissfully. 

When third period came around, Y/N stood outside her English classroom, counting to five in her head. She clutched onto the piece of paper where her speech was written out in gelled ink, spinning the ring Harry had gifted her on her finger. With a deep breath, she opened the door and stepped foot into her classroom. 

. . .

Harry could hardly concentrate during the football match but he was trying his best. His team were two points ahead and it wouldn’t be long before the game was over. Since it was the morning and the game was mostly practice for the two schools competing, there wasn’t a huge audience watching them. 

He was glancing down at his watch every few minutes when he was supposed to have his eye on the ball, checking to see whether third period was about to start. All he could think about was his little dove and how nervous she was when they stepped into school this morning. 

She had been working so hard on reading things out, even stopping in shops when they went to town together to read the labels on the backs of food containers. He fully believed in her and her ability to speak in front of the class even when she didn’t and it killed him not being able to watch her do it. 

So when the whistle finally blew marking the end of the game, Harry ignored the celebrations with his team after they won the match and ran across the field through the entrance of the school. He raced up the steps, his football boots clicking against the crowd. He knew he probably didn’t smell the best and his knees were muddy from falling over but he didn’t have much time to think about it as he searched for Y/N’s English classroom. 

“Y/N?” He heard the teacher’s voice call her name as he approached. 

“A-Already? O-Oh, O-okay.” He could hear her nerves just by listening to her speak. 

Harry was about to knock on the door but he hesitated, wondering if it would worsen her nerves if he was in the classroom watching her. He knew how much of a big deal this moment was for Y/N and he didn’t want to intervene or make a spectacle of the moment especially since he wasn’t in her class. 

He lowered his hand and instead pressed his ear up to the door. 

“H-Hello,” Y/N started, “My name is Y-Y/N and today I will be sharing with you m-my love for comic books,” Harry’s heart ached as her voice came out quietly. 

“C’mon Dove,” He whispered, wanting her to do well. 

Y/N cleared her throat and let out a shaky exhale, “A-As you can probably tell, I-I am not all that good at speaking. I s-stumble over letters and sometimes even have to replace words with o-others because my mouth t-turns into mash potato and I can’t seem to get t-the words out.” People chuckled and Harry’s heart began to beat against his chest, “T-That is why I love comic books so much because of the l-lack of words. Instead, there are pictures,” Y/N continued, her voice gaining strength the more that she spoke, “T-They tell stories without the need for p-perfect sentences or flawless speech.” 

Y/N continued her speech and Harry spent the entire presentation with his ear pressed up against the door. He ignored the looks of teachers and other students walking past as a huge grin spread across his cheeks the more Y/N spoke in front of the class. 

By the time she had finished, it fell silent before the class responded with a round of applause, “Brilliant work, Y/N,” Her teacher said. 

Y/N felt like she was floating on a cloud as she left her English classroom. Even if her speech wasn’t perfect, she had done it and gotten through it all in one piece. As she stepped out, two arms snaked around her waist and lifted her off the ground, “Harry!” Y/N giggled as he spun her around.

“M so proud of you, Dove.” He kissed her softly, lowering her to the ground but refusing to move his hands from her waist. 

“I-I can’t believe I did it, Harry!” Y/N almost squealed. 

“Heard every word, y’ did so good, M so proud of you.” He rambled, unable to cease his admiration for her. 

“You heard?” Y/N’s eyebrows creased, her lips pouting slightly. 

“I ran here as fast as I could and stood outside to listen to you,” Harry explained, “Y did perfect, honestly, the best speech I’ve ever heard.”

“You really ran h-here to listen?” Y/N asked, still in disbelief.

“I did,” Harry smiled, “It was all I could think about when I was on the field.”

“Did you win?” Y/N asked. 

Harry pulled her flush against him, “You already know I did baby,” He smirked, kissing her. Y/N smiled against his lips.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Harry murmured, “To celebrate.”

“And do w-what?” Y/N wondered, even though the idea of spending any time with Harry was always her favourite. 

“Maybe go to the bowling alley and get dinner after,” He shrugs.

“O-oh and maybe we can stop at the comic book store on the way home!” Y/N said, excitedly. 

“Course m’love,” Harry’s smile widened the more she spoke, “We can do whatever you want as long as I get to hear you talk.” 

Y/N grinned broadly as Harry interlaced his hands with hers, feeling the cool metal of her ring against his skin. Together, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, Y/N unable to stop talking the entire time, while Harry hung onto her every word.

#softgirlsundays #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #fic rec #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles writing #writing #fanfic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you

[hysteria-things]

OMG OMG I HAVE ANOTHER IDEA !!

So like what if the reader is one of the ghosts that lived in the hotel and they take an interest in matt(im convinced that all of the ghosts there were matt girls) and the ghost liked how he talks and they show themselves to him and like y'kkow y'knownsmut and thid and that

so like reader reveals ehat she looks like to him and they get all freaky

GHOST (part one)

read part two here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: matt runs into a girl at the driskill hotel. he can’t explain it, but he feels immediately attracted to her somehow.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, making out, p in v

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 943

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i changed it up a smidge!

for @skadltmf :)

the long-awaited sam and colby x sturniolo triplets collab is in full swing at the driskill hotel in austin, texas.

the five of them were in the vault for a while and then walked around, but now they’re on a break from filming for an hour or two because they wanted to get something to eat.

“shit, i’m so sorry!” you apologize when you run into a boy who’s throwing something out.

he smiles down at you, shaking his head. “it’s all good.”

matt furrows his eyebrows when he sees you. he can’t explain it, but it feels like he’s being pushed toward you somehow. like a gravitational pull, despite never seeing you before.

“what’re you doing at the haunted driskill hotel?” you ask, wanting to spark up a conversation. you must admit, he’s a cutie, and you love the way he talks.

he crosses his arms. “i should ask you the same thing.”

you sigh. “touché. i’ve heard a lot about this place and wanted to see it with my own eyes. research, if you will.”

“ah.” he nods, still smiling. “i’m a youtuber. doing a collab right now.” he points behind him where the others are.

matt’s still freaked out. he’s just so attracted to you. there’s something about your presence that has him not wanting to leave your side.

he feels sympathetic to you. he feels like he wants to keep you safe at all times. he’s never one to start talking to a stranger, but for some reason, he has no problem mingling with you.

“what’s your name?”

“y/n l/n.” you bite your lip, caressing his shoulder flirtatiously. “you’re handsome, you know that?”

bold. he thinks.

“i-i’m matt.” he stammers, cheeks flushing at each movement you make.

your hand trails up to his hair right above his ear, and you play with it while looking deep into his eyes. he leans into your hand. “there’s a janitor’s closet over there.” you tilt your head. “will i see you in there?”

you wink, walking off in the opposite direction. he glances at you and then the group, taking out his phone to text chris.

i forgot something in the room, i’ll be back in a few.

waiting patiently in the small closet, the door opens minutes later. you smile widely, admiring the boy in front of you.

“for some reason, i need to kiss you.” he says abruptly out of breath. “can i kiss you?”

you exhale, snaking your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss that soon turns into a make-out.

his hands roam your body, lastly going to your pants before he pulls away. “um… is this okay?”

“more than okay,” you say, pulling him in so his lips are on yours again.

matt pulls down your pants, lips still intact as he lifts you.

he removes his pants as well, pushing your panties to the side. you both know there’s not much time, so you guys must be quick.

pecking your shoulder, you moan when he slowly fills you.

his thrusts start soft, but he notices your discomfort. he can’t tell if it’s because you’re trying to adjust or if you’re not enjoying it. “you okay?”

your face turns red from embarrassment. “i haven’t done this in a really long time, and um… it’s hard for me to feel pleasurable unless you rub my… y’know.”

“you mean like this?” he smirks, thrusting faster and deeper while his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

you throw your head back and nod. “mhm! fuck.”

whenever he thrusts in, he applies more pressure with his finger and it sends you into a state of bliss. “you f-feel so good, matt.” you whine, squirming in his grip.

it makes it hard for him to move by how tight you’re squeezing around him, but you’re close.

he grunts, closing his eyes to take it all in. in his opinion, this is the best he’s ever had. he wants to keep in mind that he doesn’t even know you, but you’re so much different.

“i’m gonna cum.” you whisper, jolting slightly when he rubs your clit harder.

“cum all over me, baby,” he replies, making sure you cum first.

your release oozes around his dick, and that’s his queue to pull out to finish on your stomach.

the two of you stay there, engulfing each other to catch your breath. “how come i feel so connected to you somehow?” he says lowly, resting his forehead on yours.

you shrug. “you’ll find out soon.”

he’s a little confused by what you mean but doesn’t ask about it. instead, he holds you close until his cellphone ringing disrupts you.

sam, colby, and the triplets walk down a hallway, passing some portraits of the ghosts along the way. you had to take your separate ways when nick called matt complaining that he was taking too long.

“isn’t that the freaky one?” colby asks smugly, pointing to a specific picture.

“that is the freaky one!” sam exclaims, the triplets giggling along with them.

“who’s the freaky one?” chris asks, squinting to get a better look.

“she was nineteen when she died.” colby starts. “she was known to seduce men with her ‘looks of manipulation’, some might say.”

matt scoots in front of the group to have a look, and he could’ve sworn his blood ran cold. a girl is pictured sitting on a stool with a gorgeous smile and old victorian clothes.

the girl in question is you, and he has to blink multiple times to make sure he’s seeing right.

the gold plaque underneath confirms who he’s looking at:

y/n l/n.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

[ddejavvu]

hey bbg i ADORE your writing! could i please get a bsf!james w no boundaries who sees you watching some tv 🧡🖤 if yk what i mean and he helps her out if that’s ok with you? thank you sm i love you *💋*

this isn't tiktok, you can call it porn! also, reader wears glasses in this, if you don't yes you do. also she uses her phone but also its set at hogwarts please don't pick on me or ill give up

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You'd used the fact that James was leaving in mere minutes to justify your lack of self-control. He'd stayed the night in your bed, something he does quite often, and something that means you don't get alone time before bed. It's nice to cuddle up to him, he's a living space heater, but a dull ache has been growing between your thighs the longer you go without relieving yourself, and you're at your breaking point.

He's in your bathroom, warbling a tune that he's made up on the spot, the lyrics all quidditch-based. He's got the game on his mind, five minutes away from having to leave for practice, and you tuck your phone to your chest as you type in the website your fingers know by heart.

You're doing everything right. You've got headphones in, you've got the volume low, you've got the brightness down, but you'd forgot about your damned glasses. James saunters in from the bathroom, a towel around his waist and water droplets still clinging to his chest as he fishes around at the end of your bed for his discarded pants, and it doesn't matter that the phone is angled away from him, he catches it in the reflection of your glasses.

"Oh, I could do that easy," He boasts, and you pause the video to look curiously up at him.

"Hm?'

"That," He points vaguely at your phone, and your stomach twists, "That whole legs-up-by-the-ears thing. If you wanted to, I mean."

"What?" You retort indignantly, like you can't still hear the woman's cries echoing through your head.

"I could fuck you like that, darling," James explains, his voice taking on a tone bordering on amusement, "Hello? The porn you're watching?"

"I- What," You blabber, but you know you're losing even as you mash your thumb against the phone's lock button, "I am not watching porn!"

"Right, you're watching Sesame Street," James snorts. He advances on you despite your flustered protests, reaching out to tap his fingernail against the lenses of your glasses, "I saw it here, nasty girl. Talk about a big bird. Mine's bigger, though. I'll show you whenever you wanna take me up on that legs-by-the-ears technique."

You're silent for only the few seconds that it takes to muster up a response that's equal parts scolding and casually committal, but as soon as you're able to find your voice, James gets his jersey over his head and takes his leave.

"James-"

"Sorry, love, it'll have to wait," He reaches out and pats your shoulder like he hadn't just offered to put your knee up against it, "Practice is starting soon, and I can't be late, I'm the captain. But afterwards, okay? Love you," He grins down at you, cheekiness alight in his entire expression, from the flush of his cheeks to his dazzling grin, "Have fun while I'm gone, y'little perv."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction #james potter smut

[moonsgemini]

cinnamon girl - rafe cameron

summary: hating rafe cameron was easy to do when you were both teenagers, but after years a part and time spent thinking about one another one thing leads to another. Secret rendezvous between kook prince and kook princess ensue, finding any spare minute to be with each other without the judgey eyes of outer banks.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fem reader, she/her, p in v, praise kink, semi public sex (a bunch of people are downstairs), fingering, oral f receiving, dirty talk, sneaking around, secret relationship, cussing, alcohol, enemies to lovers kinda

wc: 3.5k

an: another smutty smut. I have had this in my drafts for a bit & I just needed to finish it. It started out as being inspired by cinnamon girl by lana but I like don’t know what happened. also two posts in one day ???? who am I.

masterlist

In high school when y/n read Romeo and Juliet she fell in love with the tragic romance. She was astounded that love could be so intense and passionate. So much so that they were sneaking around behind everyone’s backs and the miscommunication ultimately leading to their deaths.

When she was sixteen she met Rafe Cameron. When her father introduced her to the tall blonde she didn’t think he would eventually be her Romeo. Especially not since he didn’t even smile or show the slightest interest in her. Their fathers had recently worked on a business deal together and had got along so well they wanted their families to get together.

She knew who he was and what he was like. Rumors run rampant on the figure eight. He constantly had snarky comments and remarks to make at her. Whether it be about her outfit, her likes, and especially about the boys she dated. y/n would be talking to Sarah about the boy she just went on a date with and Rafe would butt in with his two cents. He was a year older than her and he always made sure to act like he knew better because he was older.

“Fabian? You do know he like has dated half the cheer and volleyball teams,” Rafe scoffed as he stood in front of her and Sarah who were sat on the pool chairs outside. He had overheard y/n talking about the new guy she was seeing and Rafe couldn’t believe who the guy was. He also couldn’t believe she was dating at all.

Y/n looked at him with a glare, “I don’t remember asking for your input.”

“You could really use it though. Seems like you’re pretty fucking clueless at the fact that you’re a lot better than that asshole,” He rolled his eyes annoyed at the fact she couldn’t see how this escapade will end in heart break. He was only looking out for her so he doesn’t understand why she was so annoyed.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah like you care, besides I can find out for myself Rafe. I don’t need you telling me what’s good for me or not.”

Rafe rolled his eye because to him he did know what was good for her and Fabian was not. “Well when he ends up hurting you I’ll be ready to tell you I told you so,” He smirked taking a sip of his beer and walking away.

Sarah scoffed muttering, “Hate him.”

Y/n sighed watching him walk away and talk to her dad, “Couldn’t agree with you more.”

The first few years she knew Rafe she hated him. As much as you could hate him. He had always been extremely handsome, something she definitely noticed, and as he got older he became even hotter. In front of her parents he was charming and they interpreted his cocky demeanor as confidence. Whenever she complained about the Cameron boy being a prick they said they liked that Rafe knew what he wanted and always went for it, something that y/n could learn from him.

After she went away to college these family dinners became much smaller with only the parents and younger siblings. The kids having grown up and gone their own ways. Rafe was always on the mainland taking care of his dad’s business. Sarah had gone off to college so it was practically an empty nest. Occasionally during holiday breaks Sarah and y/n would join them for game night or dinner but Rafe still wasn’t around much.

She couldn’t lie and say he didn’t swim in her thoughts every now and then. Okay maybe more often then she’d like. Especially when he’d post on instagram and his bright smile would infect her mind on the nights she couldn’t fall asleep. She wondered if he ever thought about her but she doubted it since they never liked each other.

Rafe thought about her every day. Whenever he’d see her dad he’d find a way to bring her into conversation. He knew she was coming back soon and he made a note in his calendar to free his schedule on family dinner day because he wanted to see her. He needed to see her. Even if she probably didn’t want to see him because he remembers her hatred for him when they were teenagers. It makes a smirk appear on his lips as he thought about y/n rolling her eyes and sending witty comebacks his way.

-

It was winter break of her junior year of college when she made if back to the outer banks.

Y/n was surprised to see him drinking a glass of scotch with her dad and Ward as she walked downstairs. Her family was hosting dinner that time. Her first thought when she spotted hime was person he was even more handsome. His boyish look almost completely gone now that he was a man. She noticed he had been working out because his chest and shoulders seemed broader. Could have even gotten taller?

“Hey there she is,” Ward said as she made it all the way down the steps.

She smiled politely and joked, “Here I am, hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

Rafe smirked taking a sip from his glass. After Ward asked her more questions about college and the internship she was starting on the mainland that following summer. She could feel Rafe’s eyes on her as she talked to his dad. Seeing him had felt different that time. There was something different in the air.

During dinner they both stole glances at each other. Sometimes when she’d catch him staring at her he wouldn’t look away. Locking his eyes with her smirking and sipping on his second glass of scotch. His long fingers wrapped around the glass grabbed her attention. She watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed. No guys she knew in college drank scotch, because none of them were men like him.

He couldn’t believe how much more beautiful she had gotten in the last three years. She was a woman now and she held herself with so much more confidence than when she was seventeen. Rafe liked that.

“Oh honey give Rafe a tour of the new wine cellar. It is so magnificent our architect is amazing, maybe you’ll like him for a new Cameron employee,” Y/n’s mom said to the young adults who had been eye fucking for the last forty minutes. Y/n’s mom had been feeling her second glass of wine now which led to her being all giddy and generous. It’s always what her mom did. So whenever they went to charity events her mom just needed a glass of wine to sign a check for $10,000.

She was also an avid wine collector so for the last year they had been building a wine cellar under the house. It turned out beautiful. All wood and the lighting was moody. There were racks of wines all around the room and a few in the middle creating ailse. There were also a few big wooden support beams.

“Sure mom. Follow me,” Y/n said nodding her head towards the back. He smirked standing up and following her a few paces behind so he could stare at her back side. She led him out to the side of the house where the entrance was. If her mom knew what she ultimately helped happen she’d kill the both of them. Mostly for committing such a sin next to her most prized possessions.

Ten minutes into the tour Rafe had y/n pinned against one of those wooden beams. Her legs wrapped around his waist with her hands in his hair tugging whenever he’d hit that spot she could never reach on her own. No college guy she had been with was ever able to hit that spot either. Their breaths mixed together as their faces were close together, y/n’s skirt bunched around her waist. One of his hands was under her shirt tweaking her nipple.

His dick inside of her smoothly sliding in and out as he fucked her. Rafe knew he would never forget this moment. Never forget just how wet she had been, all the noises she was making sounding heavenly.

The first time was erotic. Years of built up sexual tension was finally getting released and it felt so good. His hands, his lips, his body felt better than she could ever have imagined.

When they were done Rafe kissed her, lips slotting naturally with her like they always belonged there. She was worried it was a one time thing but he wasn’t acting like it. That bubble of anxiety in her chest popping as he continued to be sweet to her. He had slowly pulled out and set her down gently. Tugging her skirt back down and helping her step into her panties he had tugged off in a frenzy. He fixed himself as she fixed her hair and makeup.

“That’s not the last time that’s gonna happen,” He said breaking the silence, “I like you too much to let you go.”

-

Since the first night they hooked up they have been sneaking around behind their families backs seeing each other. Rafe flew and road tripped to her apartment more times that winter and spring than he can count. When she came back for the summer he was practically living at her house. He’d sneak in at night like they were teenagers and he’d sleep over or stay up talking with her until she fell asleep then he’d sneak out. Or sometimes (a lot of times) they’d be doing something else that involved rafe’s mouth on her.

When y/n got her internship he’d meet her for lunch. They’d hangout in secluded areas on the beach and whenever they wanted to have a nice date night they’d stay a few cities over for the weekend to be alone and be a couple in public. For her birthday Rafe took her to the Amalfi coast for a few days where they spent most of the time on a boat, in a pool, or in bed having amazing sex. Y/n told her parents she was going to the lake for the weekend where she’d barely have service. Somehow they believed it.

They kept it a secret not because their families would be upset. It’s the opposite actually, they’d be too excited. Then there would be all this pressure on their relationship. The mom’s and Ward would be urging Rafe to propose because their families merging would make them look incredibly good and powerful in the developing industry. They’d want a huge wedding with a bunch of people they don’t know. There’d start to be talk about grand babies. All of figure eight would be talking about the kook prince and princess dating and on their way to live off their trusts. It would just be too much.

It was the last dinner party of the summer and Y/n was giddy. She hadn’t seen Rafe in two weeks because he had gone away on a business trip with his dad and then she had gone on to see her grandparents in New York. It was the most time they had spent a part in the last four months.

Tonight would be the last night they see each other for another couple weeks while y/n moves into her senior year apartment and settles into school. Rafe knew how important school was to her so he wanted to give her space to settle which she was grateful for because pre law was not easy. It would also be too suspicious if he randomly showed up to help while her parents are there.

This was a big dinner party so it was perfect. Y/n’s parents were hosting so it was all perfect. Every big family on Figure Eight, even the ones who only summer there, was at her house. The house was filled with many distractions since her mother also loved collecting art. No one would see them sneak upstairs to her room, especially with all the wine that’s being consumed.

Rafe had been dreaming about touching her since he last saw her. Oh and when he saw her he didn’t even waste a moment. As soon as he saw an opportunity to drag her upstairs to her bedroom he did. It was when appetizers were brought out and everyone had gathered outside. Y/n smirked the whole time knowing he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. Her short dress definitely did the job it was supposed to when she spotted his hard on when he first grabbed her.

His eagerness showing when he practically slammed her against the inside of the bedroom door. His lips on hers with fervor. They moved expertly against each other. Immediately finding their rhythm, no matter how many times they have each other it’s never enough.

His hands sliding down her waist and slowly going under her sundress. That’s when he feels nothing. She wasn’t wearing any panties. He instantly got harder and groaned into her mouth.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” He mumbled as he began trailing kisses down her neck.

Her hands tugged at his hair, “I missed you Rafey,” she whined not even feeling the slightest bit embarrassed about her eagerness. She had missed him so much.

He began walking her towards the bed. His lips still latching onto any exposed skin on her chest. They kicked their shoes off in the process, Rafe undid a few more buttons of his shirt. His tanned broad chest making her breathing uneven. When her knees hit the end of the bed she sat back crawling backwards towards the pillows. He followed her his knees spreading her legs.

“I missed you baby,” He gently cupped her face and stroked her cheek softly, “I can’t wait to make you cum.”

The soft gesture with the dirty words made her cheeks feel hot. That devilish smirk appearing on Rafe’s face like he knew that would happen. And that’s because he did know. Rafe knew her body and he knows just what to do to make her squirm. He looked too hot for her to even care how dirty he sounded. Sometimes she’d shy away but other times it made her putty in his hands. Y/n reached forward kissing him not so gently. They’d have time for the lovey dovey stuff later.

He began kissing down her body. Her chin then her neck, paying attention to that spot that made her hips jerk up for relief. His hand were gliding up her legs pushing her dress up around her waist in the process.

Rafe kissed her shoulders as he pushed her straps down in a teasing manor. He kissed her collarbones then her chest. Finally moving to her stomach and her pelvic bone. Oh had he missed this. His hands moved to her knees spreading her legs wider.

Y/n’s hands were in his hair already tugging. Giving an even harder tug when he reach forward giving her a teasing lick. She had to cover her mouth with one hand to not be loud.

Rafe wanted to tease her but he just couldn’t resist. He dove right in. His tongue finding her clit immediately, moving his tongue in circles. He alternated between that and licking down her slit. Tongue teasing her entrance. It was all so euphoric.

Her back arched off her bed. Y/n tried her best to keep quiet but a few moans slipped out. She hoped the chatter and music playing downstairs was enough to cover her noises. Rafe hummed against her core making the feeling even more intense.

“Oh god Rafey,” She sighed dreamily, “I missed your mouth. Know just what to do.”

He lives for the praise. It boosted his ego and encouraged him to do better and outdo himself. Hearing her breathy wins and moans muffled by her own hand were making him impossibly hard.

As he sucked and licked her clit he reached around and abruptly slipped a finger into her wet center. Her thighs practically suffocating him as he moved in and out of her touching that perfect spot inside of her. He always made her cum and he always did it fast. Before she met Rafe she had only ever finished with her own hand or vibrator.

“I’m gonna cum!” She whisper shouted.

Rafe moaned, “Cum for me baby.”

It felt like electricity was going through her body as she came. His movements relentless until he knew she was satisfied. He began to slow down as she came down, leaving her with one final lick. He kissed the inside of her thighs softly before crawling up to her again. She pulled him forward needing his lips on hers. She moaned at her taste on his tongue.

“I need to be inside you,” Rafe groaned as he felt one of her hands reach down and palm him through his pants.

“Please fuck me,” She batted her eyelashes at him knowing it always got her what she wanted.

He groaned again before sitting back on his feet so he can unbutton the rest of his shirt. Y/n sat up pulling her dress all the way off. Rafe made quick work of his pants pulling them down his legs.

His member slapped against his stomach, her mouth watering at the sight. Rafe was created with care, everything about him was perfect to her. He grabbed his length pumping it a few times before he rubbed his tip through her folds. Spreading her wetness around, his eyes rolled back at the feeling.

“Oh please please put it in,” She whined, “I need you so bad Rafey.”

“Baby your wish is my command,” He smirked and thrusted into her slowly pushing in inch by inch.

“Yes yes yes yes,” She chanted in pure bliss. Y/n didn’t care how desperate she sounded.

Rafe sighed as he began moving slowly. She was so tight and warm, even better than he remembered. He knew he wasn’t going to last long but he would make sure she came again before he did at all. He hit that spot inside of her that made her eye’s roll back and toes curl.

“Taking me so good my love,” Rafe encouraged as he picked up speed.

He grabbed one of her boobs and brushed his thumb over her hardened nipple. He leaned down and placed the other one in his mouth sucking and licking gently. All of the stimulation had her body feeling like it was on fire. He released it with a pop and went back to capture her lips in his. Y/n’a hands gripped his hair and clawed his back

“I’m gonna cum babe,” She moaned, “Yes right there, oh oh god.”

“Yeah baby cum for me,” He sighed, “Fuck I’m gonna cum too.”

Her eyes rolled back at his words, “Please cum in me, fill me up please please,” she blubbered feeling overwhelmed by the orgasm that was about to take over her body. The sounds of his deck sliding in and out of her wet pussy made him reach the edge. Everything about her was so sexy from the noises she made to the way she looked sprawled out below him.

Her words made him pick up his pace pounding into her. He felt her clench around him knowing she was coming. She moaned and scratched his back as she came. Biting her lip to not let anymore loud noises slip out of her. He came inside of her with a groan. Rafe continued to pump in and out of her slowing down as he came down from his high.

He swore he could cum again just looking at her all fucked out. Her hair all over the place, lipstick smudged and probably all over his face.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths Rafe pulled out gently. A whine leaving her lips at the empty feeling. Rafe got up going to her bathroom to get a towel to clean her up. When he came back he dabbed her center cleaning up.

“I missed you so much Rafe,” Y/n said breaking the silence.

He leaned forward kissing her knee, “I missed you more my love.”

“You think anyone heard?”

He shrugged, “Don’t think so. If they did then oops.”

She laughed, “Don’t say that Rafe, then we will get caught.”

He smirked as he laid next to her again opening his arms as an invitation that she gladly took. Resting her head on his chest and he leg wrapped around his waist. One of his hands stroking her hair and the other rubbing up and down her body slowly feeling all her exposed skin.

“Lets lay a few minutes then get back to hearing my dad talk about business for hours,” Y/n said savoring the feeling of laying with him.

“I love you,” He kissed the crown of her head a few times.

She smiled, “I love you. Sneak over tonight?” She asked looking up at him hopefully.

“Read my mind,” He smirked.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader

[koocycle]

over wine; chapter one (j.jk)

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

over cocktails and dior-bowed roses.

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

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

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

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

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

series masterlist

one, two, three

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

OVER COCKTAILS AND DIOR-BOWED ROSES

Jeon Jungkook must be easy to love.

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

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

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

What is there not to love about your beloved Jungkook?

Perhaps his despicable wife?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, most of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was probably the former.

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

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

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

Nonetheless, he shrugs. ‘‘Probably.’’

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

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

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

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

‘‘___ told you about Seulgi?’’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod eagerly. “I can do that.’’

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes…’’

He hums. “Yes, what?’’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Car rides have never been this dreadful before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook is not a cheater.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cock a single brow. “Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jungkook—“

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

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

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

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

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

“You want to repeat that for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fine. Two of you can be just as petty.

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook is an unbelievable man.

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

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

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

“Try me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God. He can’t stand you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah.” You repeat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ride me, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, Kook.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s absence drains you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Taehyung crosses your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kim Taehyung is nothing like Jungkook.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You like Taehyung.

You’ve come to the conclusion that you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read at 9:40 PM.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your photographer just had to look like an underwear model.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With wine?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had forgotten all about the gift.

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

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

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

First class passenger’s boarding pass.

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

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[sunsetsimon]

a couple of dad!simon headcanons ♡

- hello! i'm sun, and this is my new writing account! i haven't written properly in years, so please go easy on me!

simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

☼ simon never imagined having a family of his own. even after the first few years of being together, the thought never crossed his mind. until your best friend had a baby...

your best friend was visiting with her newborn and seeing you holding the baby flipped a switch in his head. you smiled and cooed at him, causing the baby to flash a toothless smile. there was a twinkle in your eye that he hadn’t noticed before and he pictured you glowing so beautifully as you held your own daughter, a mini version of you and him all in one. he didn’t bring it up for weeks as he thought it through himself. was having a family even possible for him? was he just being selfish?

☼ it comes up one day after you notice he’d been unusually quiet while spending time together. he wasn’t the most talkative, but he enjoyed conversations with you, even joking here and there.

“is everything okay, si? you’ve been extra quiet today.”

“hmm, yeah. just been zoning off.” he shrugs, unsure how to approach the subject. he knows you would listen but he doesn’t know how he’d react if your answer was no.

deciding rejection is better than never knowing, he sharply inhales, “have you ever thought about having children?”

the question throws you off, certainly random for a guy who doesn’t speak much of the future. you sit for a second debating your answer, and simon’s chest clenches in anxious anticipation.

“i have a few times, nothing too serious though. it never seems like there’s a good time for us.”

he nods in agreement, “been thinking about it these days. maybe it’s something we can consider.”

☼ needless to say, you both decide after many conversations and more time, that expanding your family is something you’re open to. you stop your contraception soon after and begin trying. he becomes even more attentive, constantly checking in with you and doing plenty of research on how to make your pregnancy easy. he gets you anything you want - whenever you want. and back and foot massages become part of your everyday routine.

☼ recognizes that he won't always be around because of his extremely demanding work. he checks in whenever he can, even writing letters if he has to. it breaks his heart having to miss doctor appointments and weekly milestones with you, but you always know he tries his absolute best for you two.

☼ simon loves skin to skin contact for the first few months. he loves to lay with her against his chest and drift off to the tv while you take a quick shower. he finds himself just watching her a lot, trying to memorize every movement her tiny body makes.

☼ soooo protective. no kisses, no pets, no sick people, doesn’t allow anything that could be of risk near her. he always has the two of you in his sight, preferring to push the stroller as you walk on the side of him.

☼ he's not one to care for style, so you do the main planning for the nursery. he builds all of the furniture for you while you watch. he looks so hot in his grey sweats and a black t-shirt that you can't help but distract him a few times.

☼ it's a hard adjustment for him having to return for a mission after she's born. he spends his entire last day holding and watching her, a sad slouch in his shoulders.

"gonna miss you so much, darlin. i'll be back as soon as i can," he whispers, gently kissing her forehead before handing her back to you. simon's hands grip your waist, pulling you in close to kiss you deeply before resting his forehead against yours. "i need my girls to stay safe. ill update you when i can, dove."

whenever he can, he scrolls though his videos on his phone just to see her face. her eyes twinkle brighter than any star to him and a slight smile creeps under his mask.

☼ relieves you from baby care when he can tell you’re exhausted. sighing and pulling yourself out of bed when crying erupts through the baby monitor. he doesn’t get up at first, but when the crying continues for a minute, he comes to check on you. he pushes the door cracked door open, revealing you desperately hushing and bouncing her in your arms. your eyes are tired and heavy, wishing for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

“i got ‘er. go back to bed love,” simon says, taking his baby girl into his arms.

you give him a weak smile and a thankful squeeze at his arm, walking straight to bed without another peep. he holds her close to his chest as he sits down in the chair, propping her neck up as he stares down at her. her eye color matches his, but she resembles you more and more everyday. he’s enamored by her, his beautiful little girl that he created with the love of his life.

she quiets down shortly, falling back asleep in his arms as he rocks her slowly. his own eyes grow heavy, and he sets her down in her crib before returning back to bed. he climbs in behind you, pulling your back to his chest and planting a soft kiss on the side of your neck.

“if she wakes up again i’ll take care of it. you just sleep darling,” simon whispers, receiving a hum in response from you as you snuggle into him.

he takes care of his girls so well.

#ugh i want him to be happy so bad #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #dad!simon riley #.wbm

[nadvs]

watch and learn (part eight)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

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The Sunday morning sky is cloudy, offering hardly any sunlight to shine into your dorm room. Considering the tangled, dreary way you woke up feeling, it’s fitting.

Liv comes over with smoothies from an on-campus juice bar.

“They call this one Hangover Cure,” she says as she hands you a tall, plastic cup. “So I got us both the biggest size.”

You smile and thank her, feeling like you have more of an emotional hangover than a physical one. You sit up in your bed as she sits in your desk chair, swirling the straw in her drink.

“So, what happened last night?” she asks.

You shrug and look down. You’re not sure you should hook up with Rafe anymore. You don’t understand how he can call you perfect and beautiful and baby during sex, but when you’re clothed, he acts casual. At best. At worst, he’s just a jerk.

You did share a tender moment last night at the party, but it lasted mere seconds before he turned the conversation sexual again.

“What always happens. We hooked up and I went home.” You take a beat. “You actually think he likes me?” Your voice is thin as you recall Liv’s text from last night.

“The jealousy on his face when I told him you were with Blake… was something else,” she tells you. “And the way he left with you?”

She gives you a knowing look and takes a sip of her drink.

“Do you like him?” she asks. Liv’s already heard all about your arrangement with Rafe, but whenever she hinted that it could be more, you laughed it off. You don’t laugh this time.

“I’d be an idiot to like a guy who tells me from the get-go that would never tie himself down with a girlfriend,” you say. “The jealousy was because he might lose his favorite booty call.”

“If you say so,” she says. You force yourself not to feel any hope from her words.

You think about the way Rafe looked when you asked him about his family last night. It was a small glimpse into a side you hardly ever see.

He does have a heart underneath all the attitude and temper and ego. And it’s clearly damaged. But you’re not going to make a fool of yourself hoping he shows it to you again, let alone opens it up.

“Anyways, look what Blake texted me,” you say. When you hand Liv your phone and she reads the message, she puts her hand over her mouth in shock.

“This is so cute,” she coos. “A man who directly tells you he likes you? That exists?”

“Apparently,” you say. “I think I’m gonna say yes.”

“You should,” Liv replies. “But, and don’t kill me for asking, would you say yes to Rafe if he texted you this?”

“He wouldn’t,” you say confidently, taking back your phone. “Okay, stop holding out on me. You made out with Sam? How did that happen?”

Your friend tells you about the rest of her night and you’re appreciative of the break from your own thoughts.

About half an hour later, Rafe is coming back from the gym when he hears your laugh coming from your room. He can’t pass up the opportunity to pound on your door.

“Too loud!” he calls, passing by. Liv gets startled and you laugh again, recognizing his voice right away.

“Asshole,” you quietly mutter. Liv looks at you for a moment, no doubt noticing the smile on your face.

After she leaves, you look at Blake’s text again.

Gotta be honest. I wanted to kiss you when we were in my room but you make me really nervous haha. Can I take you on a date? A real one. Not just a study date lol. All good if you’re not into it. Let me know.

While you haven’t always necessarily felt an overwhelmingly strong pull to Blake, you definitely have a crush. You wanted him to kiss you last night. Maybe you could make each other happy.

You reply: you don’t have to be nervous :) a real date sounds nice.

When Blake responds, you plan to go out to dinner together on Wednesday night.

On Tuesday, one of your floormates knocks on your door to tell you she’s having a party in the common room that night. Since alcohol isn’t allowed in the building’s public areas, she lets you know the booze will be hidden to give the impression that it’s a dry party.

You decide to take the invitation. It’s nearing 9 pm when you enter the large room, its walls already packed with a crowd of students you’ve seen around the building.

Music is playing under the overlapping conversations and bottles of juice and soda are scattered around the room. You’re sure they’re all made to look innocent but are spiked with booze.

You dive into conversation with a girl who lives a floor above you when you pick up a solo cup and fill it with juice, barely glancing at the table as the overwhelming aroma of vodka hits you.

Rafe will never turn down an invitation to a party. When he comes through the door, he sees you standing by one of the couches and chatting with someone. Like always, you look pretty as hell.

He looks to one of the tables in the room to see stacks of different colored solo cups behind pieces of paper, words scribbled in marker. It must be some sort of party game.

The pink cups are behind a note that says Taken; the purple, Down to Smash, blue, Single; green, It’s Complicated.

He glances at you again to see you holding a purple cup. Down to smash?

You’ve been chatting for a while now, your cup empty and your head already sort of buzzing from how much vodka was in the bitter juice. You look up from your conversation to see Rafe gazing at you from across the room.

You hate how he can be so relaxed, in a simple t-shirt and jeans and messy hair, and still look so good.

He has a ridiculous effect on you. You accept this as a fact when you realize you’re overjoyed to see him. He’s captivating without even trying.

It’s the type of happiness you feel when you see a good friend, you tell yourself.

Your heart skips a beat when he crosses the space, closing the distance between you. You tell the girl it was nice talking to her before Rafe inevitably interrupts you.

He approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Interesting choice,” Rafe says.

“What?”

“That,” he mumbles, pointing to your cup.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you laugh.

Rafe silently nods his head towards the desk by the door. You glance over to see writing in front of each stack of cups.

“Oh,” you say, brushing past him to look down at the spread. “I didn’t know the colors meant anything.”

You can still taste the juice you drank. The vodka was good, but the juice wasn’t.

“Yuck, I hate this flavor,” you say. Rafe looks over at the bottle you must have poured from.

You study the cups, and if you’re really honest, the green cup is the most fitting. It’s Complicated. Because you’re not looking to casually hook up with anyone else, yet you’re not devoted to someone. Single makes you look like you’re hoping to be in a relationship, when you already sort of like two guys at once.

“What’s complicated?” Rafe asks when you pick it up. He wonders if it’s because of Blake.

You give him that look he’s so used to by now, that look that somehow irritates him and turns him on at the same time. At least you didn’t pick up the Taken cup. He can still touch you if you let him.

For a moment, he imagines a world where he isn’t in a frat. Where you two meet like this, at a dorm party, and he doesn’t have to watch you get slowly taken away by a guy he introduced you to.

“I can’t explain it. That’s what makes it complicated,” you flirt with a smug smile. You decide to put the cup back, still holding on to the empty purple one, figuring you’re tipsy enough for a school night.

“Why not?” he asks, muttering his words angrily.

“Is being mad, like your default state?” you ask with a small smile. “Or are you just jealous?”

“What the hell would I be jealous of?” Rafe’s eyes dart away.

“Blake,” you reply bluntly. His blue eyes meet yours.

Does he not know how transparent he is? He was pissed when he learned you were with Blake last night. He basically yanked you out of the party.

“You know you could easily find another girl to fuck around with, right?” you say. “I know of two, at least.”

You think back to the girl he had moaning in his room and the girl he made out with at the mixer party.

“I wanna fuck around with you,” he says. You let out a disillusioned chuckle.

“Charming,” you mutter. The response tells you everything you need to know. He’s mad because he’s losing a fuck buddy.

“Are you with him or not?” Rafe asks sternly.

The conversation has ignited an alluring tension between you. You were considering stopping the hook-ups. But you melt under his gaze, head swimming, core heating.

You’re nobody’s girlfriend. Why not have great sex with a friend while you’re available?

“I’m not,” you say, looking down at your purple cup. “I guess this was the right choice for tonight.”

Despite the irritation and jealousy gnawing at Rafe, he happily surrenders to the rush of excitement prickling his skin.

“Why aren’t we fucking then?” he asks.

“We?” you tease, pulling at the string making him jealous just a little more. “I was thinking I should find someone else and put all my practice to the test.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a lazy smile, taking the empty cup from you and placing it on the table, replacing it with his hand.

It’s almost funny, considering he was so against holding your hand the night on the boat, but now does it in front of a crowd of people.

His grip is tight as you leave the room together. Pulling you out of parties to get naked with you is becoming a new habit of his.

You’re glad he doesn’t suggest going to your room. It’s easier to leave him after the sex than to be left.

With that thought, a moment of self-restraint hits you when his door slams behind you and his lips are on yours, hands cupping your face.

“Turn on some music,” you pull back to tell him. “Loud.” Hopefully it’ll keep him from talking. His tender words are too much if you want to protect your heart.

He flips on a playlist on his speakers. Of course he has one at the ready. You bet he has turned it on for lots of other girls.

The first few notes play. You love this song. You knew what kind of party music he liked, but who knew you’d have the same taste in slow songs as Rafe does?

Rafe’s mouth finds yours again, his tongue swirling gently, his body curving into yours as you stand in the middle of his room, the gentle music filling your ears.

You both have your own pace, so in tune with each other now. He knows where to touch you and when, stripping layers off you between heated, deep kisses.

Once you’re in your bra and panties, you realize this might have to be the last time. Because his lips and hands feel damn near perfect as they roam over you. Because now you can only hope you find another man who can touch you and push you out of your comfort zone like this.

You urgently pull his shirt off and shift to sit on the edge of his desk, pulling him in, cupping his firm shoulders. Rafe smiles, amused by you taking control. You really aren’t shy anymore.

“You want me to fuck you on my desk?” he mumbles against your ear over the music. He spoke, but as long as it isn’t misleadingly romantic, you’re okay with it.

He unhooks your bra, squeezing your chest tenderly.

This is just sex. And with the confusion and uneasiness you’ve been feeling, you desperately want to get lost in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Be rough with me,” you urge. Rafe’s stunned by your words, feeling himself throb with need.

“Look at you telling me what you want,” he praises in your ear, unbuttoning his jeans.

Once his pants and boxers are off, his hands grip your knees, aggressively pulling your legs apart. He presses over the dampness in your panties with his fingers, watching you through hooded eyes as your breath hitches.

“You wet for me?” Rafe mumbles. The moistness between your legs is palpable without you even needing to touch yourself.

“Might’ve made a mess,” you answer, looking down as he stimulates your clit, brushing over your moistened panties. Your words are so hot to him that he almost feels dizzy.

“Shit, baby,” he groans. “I can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” His fingers slip under the band of your underwear, pulling them down your legs.

He pushes your knees apart again, even rougher this time, massaging your bare pussy, coating his fingers in your arousal.

You’re so wet, so sticky, that his cock is aching at this point. He’s so glad you want it rough tonight.

Rafe finds the small of your back, nudging you forward so you’ll tilt your hips up how he wants you to. He takes a condom out of his drawer and you grab it out of his hand, ripping open the wrapper and holding his cock as you roll it down.

It’s intoxicating to him, seeing how bad you’re craving him. How’d he get so fucking lucky to be wanted like this?

Once he can guide his tip into you, he shifts to hold your hips down and look you in the eyes as he jerks into you hard.

The sudden jolt causes you to hit the back of your head on edge of his top shelf and while you giggle, his brows furrow in concern. He brings his hand up, resting it where you hit your head, thrusting into you again and letting the shelf dig into his skin instead.

The gesture is tender but then again, almost everything Rafe does during sex is tender. Why can’t he be like this all the time?

His other hand cups your cheek, pulling back and pushing into you hard again. Your breath hitches at the pressure of him curving up into you like this in the new position.

His thrusts start quickening, the desk rattling against the wall, the music throbbing within the walls of his room. Your pulse is skyrocketing as you take in his aggressive pressure.

“Feel good?” he murmurs.

You nod, lost in the pleasure, eyes rolling. He gently tugs at the roots of your hair, coaxing you to tilt your head back and look at him with your eyelids half-closed and lips parted.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he whispers. “Like you were made for me.”

This is the shit that brings your heart into something that is only supposed to be about your body.

You press your fingers against his mouth to shut him up, but he takes the opportunity to shift and kiss your palm as he pushes into you.

“Don’t say that stuff,” you mumble.

“What?” he whispers with a mocking chuckle. “Thought I taught you to take compliments.”

“Just don’t,” you urge, leaning in to meet his lips again. Rafe kisses you hard but pulls back, forehead pressed up against yours.

“You still don’t think you’re perfect?” he rasps.

“It’s… it’s not that,” you say. Fuck. He’s just making it worse.

“I thought talking was good,” he says, almost in a whine.

“Just stop,” you tell him, kissing him again.

Rafe hates being told not to speak when all he wants to do is tell you how good you feel, but he gives into the confusing request when he hears the desperation in your tone.

Hell, he’d stop talking for days if it meant he could have you like this.

He deepens the kiss, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth. You groan at the sweet pain, shifting to wrap your arms around his body.

This position isn’t enough. You want him to be able to thrust into you as deep as possible.

“On the bed,” you say urgently. He hates pulling out of you but follows your instructions, watching you drop your feet to the floor.

When you sink onto the bed, your ass in the air, your pussy glistening, his stomach rolls with excitement. He settles behind you, propped on his left knee and his right foot, guiding into you again, watching his cock disappear as you swallow him.

You arch your back and groan, your pulse hard in your ears as he goes balls deep into you. He starts to go so hard that you feel like he’s splitting you open with every frantic thrust, your fingers bunching into his pillow.

The music is too loud. He wants to hear your pretty moans. He shifts off of the bed and you look back in confusion, watching as he shuts off the music and comes back, burying into you again.

“I wanna hear you,” he says. You rest your forehead onto the bed, pushing back onto him as he slams into you. Admittedly, you want to hear him, too.

Your breaths are shallow with his fast pace, sweat coating your skin. His stomach is starting to ache from how hard he’s working his muscles.

“Touch yourself,” he orders. “Cum with me.”

You shudder as you find your swollen clit, rubbing just the way you like while he pounds in and out of you. Rafe loves the way his hands look gripping your hips, your ass recoiling with every move.

“You take it so good,” he says, voice ragged. “This pussy is mine. You’re fucking mine.”

You hate that his possessive words sound so nice to you. A deep pleasure starts to roll through you, your orgasm slowly reaching you. He can tell with the way you’re tensing that you’re close and he goes even harder, your skin slapping.

You moan and shudder through your peak, clenching around him. Rafe’s groan is deep as he feels his cock swell and tighten, releasing and spasming with hard jerks.

His chest is heaving as he pulls out, watching you limp to your side, your face soft and satisfied.

Rafe doesn’t bother to stand and clean up yet. He’ll worry about it later. He gives into the impulse to lie down behind you, his body curving against yours, arm wrapping over your chest.

Your eyelids are heavy as you come down from the high, thinking about the things he said.

“Turns out you need more pointers,” you say between heavy breaths. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to a girl when you don’t mean it.”

“Like what?” he says into your ear.

“You know what,” you say. “I’m not yours.”

Rafe knows he fucked up by saying that. That’s the kind of shit a boyfriend would say. And he so clearly isn’t the boyfriend type and you so clearly see him as just a friend.

“Why are you so mad, huh?” he says, trying to dismiss the tension. “You’re acting like me in… what’d you call it… my default state?”

You laugh despite yourself. He feels an overwhelming sense of pride from making you smile when you’re clearly upset.

You try to sit up, but his arm is locked around you. His breath is warm and comforting on the back of your neck.

He doesn’t understand where you’re rushing off to. You told him aftercare was important. And for fuck’s sake, now he actually wants you to say and let him hold you for a little while.

You don’t like this. You two are getting dangerously close to cuddling. It’s like he’s trying to make you catch feelings for him. Just because he can separate affection from emotion, doesn’t mean you can.

“Hate to make you sad but I gotta go,” you quip. He exhales mockingly.

“I don’t get sad,” he says bitterly. This makes you still.

With those simple words, Rafe has said so much. You knew he was emotionally unavailable, but the clear disgust he has with the possibility of feeling sad is telling.

“Everyone gets sad,” you say. You think back to his father’s cruel scolding. “And if anyone makes you feel like you’re wrong for being sad, they’ve got their own issues.”

Rafe can’t wrap his head around this. He’s been told to man up all his life.

“Did you fall asleep?” you ask with a chuckle after he doesn’t reply.

“No,” he says quietly. “You honestly believe that?”

“What?”

He’s silent again.

“That it’s okay to be sad, you mean?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“Of course,” you say. “What, you don’t?”

“It’s weak.”

You stare ahead at the wall opposite his bed, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, but you think you can feel his heartbeat against your back. It’s gotten faster.

“Do you really think that? Or did someone make you think it?” you ask.

Rafe has never been challenged like this before. Whenever his father berated him for simply getting close to crying, he was told to grow a backbone. To stop his whining. His whole life.

“I really think that,” he finally says. If sadness wasn’t weakness, why did it always make him feel like he was breaking from the inside?

His coldness makes so much more sense to you now. It seems Rafe doesn’t allow himself to feel anything but anger.

“It’s a good thing you’re not the relationship type,” you say with a sardonic laugh. “Some advice, though? If you ever find a girl you want to be serious with, don’t make her feel shitty for being sad. It’s not weak to have feelings.”

Rafe wants to know if you said he’s not relationship material because he told you himself or if you really think it.

Then he scowls to himself. Why the fuck does he care?

“You’re just full of advice tonight,” he says with a smirk, his hand running over your ass.

“That’s why we started this, isn’t it?” you reply, closing your eyes for a moment to enjoy the sensation. “Speaking of, consider therapy.”

Rafe playfully and gently slaps your ass and you giggle, squirming out of his grip. When you try to get up again, this time, he lets you.

His eyes take you in as you pull your clothes back on, his head propped up on his hand, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead. You look at him, noticing how flushed he is from how hard he went.

Normally, being watched like this would make you nervous, but you’re fine with his eyes on you. You actually like it. You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe or if you’d feel this way with any guy now.

Rafe watches you as you get dressed, getting deep in your thoughts like you do sometimes. How are you so damn cute?

You’re reconsidering your idea of if this should be the last time having sex with him. It feels too good. You’re still buzzing. While you’re single, why can’t you casually hook up with him?

“Fuck, you’re fun,” Rafe says, his bright smile and deep dimples melting your heart.

Okay. This is why you can’t. You started this because you basically hated him when you decided on it. Now, you can’t imagine hating the sweet, complicated man lying in bed watching you.

Maybe this was the last time.

“I know,” you respond with a smile, copying his cockiness. You finish dressing yourself and rush out to take a shower, wishing the water could wash away the complicated feelings bothering you.

The next night, an hour before Blake said he’d pick you up, you’re getting ready, music playing loudly from your computer.

Rafe is trying to make sense of a syllabus as your music floats into his room. He thinks of last night and immediately wonders if you’re hosting someone. And having sex with them.

As you try on your third outfit, your phone buzzes.

Rafe: loud af… do i need to tell on you

You smirk.

You: dude it’s not even quiet hours

You calling him dude reminds him of the way you called Blake babe the other night. He forces away the memory.

Rafe: partying by yourself?

You: yup getting ready for a date

Rafe looks up from his screen, disappointment wrapping around him like a heavy blanket he can’t shake off.

His stomach sinks hard. Harder than it did the other night at the ABC party when he heard you were upstairs with Blake.

You’re slipping away from him. Anger pools in his stomach but he tries to act casual, teasing you like he always does.

Rafe: who tf would date you lol

You roll your eyes at the text.

You: people with taste… jerk

Rafe: just kidding

You: hate u

Blake pulls up in front of the dorm building ten minutes late, apologizing profusely for his timing. You laugh and forgive him, sliding into his car to see he got you a bouquet of flowers.

He takes you to a restaurant off-campus, pulling out your chair. You sit across from him, taking in the way he’s sitting up straight.

“You look cute,” he says.

“Thanks. You clean up nice, too,” you say. “Compared to the plastic bags you were in the last time I saw you.”

Blake’s smile is big, his laugh gentle.

“You have fun at the party?” he asks.

“I did.” And after it in Rafe’s dorm.

“Cool,” he replies. You nod, looking down at the menu. The way conversation between you moves reminds you of your study date. It’s not painfully awkward, but it’s not seamless.

You figure it’s nerves.

When your food arrives, Blake takes a picture of the table. Once you start eating, your discussion starts to flow a little easier, making jokes and pulling from topics you’ve discussed over the phone since you started texting.

Blake’s a gentleman, parking to walk you up to your door after he drives you home. His hand ghosts over your shoulder as you walk through the hallway, his touch warm.

When you stop in front of your door, Rafe can hear you talking. He saw Blake’s Instagram story. It was just a photo of food at a restaurant, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he was with you. The date you had was with him.

“You really liked the food?” Blake asks you for the third time. You chuckle at his nervousness.

“You picked well,” you reassure. “And thanks for the flowers.”

How original, Rafe thinks. He got you flowers.

A group of fellow residents pass by laughing. If Blake tries to kiss you, you probably won’t like it in such a public space.

“That was fun,” you say, stepping back a little, hoping he gets the hint that this isn’t the place to make a move.

“It was. Oh, we’re going to the beach on Saturday,” Blake tells you. “Not everyone, just a few of us. Bring Liv. Between you and me, Sam likes her.”

“Yeah?” you say with a laugh. “Sure. That sounds fun. I’ll invite her, too.”

“Great,” he replies, nodding.

“Good night,” you say. Blake gives you a tight grin and echoes the sentiment, stepping back to give you the space to open your door.

Rafe finds a text Sam sent him a few hours ago.

Sam: you alive?

Rafe hasn’t been to the frat house since the party last Saturday night. To be honest, he’s not sure how he can handle being around Blake. He can’t exactly lose his temper on his brother. His future at the frat will be shot.

But he wants to be at the beach if you’ll be there.

Rafe: yes lol whats the move this weekend

Thankfully, Sam mentions the beach plan Rafe overheard about. Maybe he loves to torture himself. Or maybe he just wants to take every opportunity to see you.

You pull up to the beach in Liv’s car on Saturday. The boys picked a good day to swim. It feels like a heat wave.

When you find the group of six guys, you’re happy to see that Rafe is one of them. He’s in his swim shorts, his baseball hat on backwards like usual.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say when he notices you. “Gross.”

“Shut up,” Rafe says with a smirk, flipping you off. He takes in how good you look in your dress, eager to see the bikini underneath. “Why the hell did you come? Brothers only.”

“Am I not basically one of you now?” you say, leaning over to greet Blake with a side-hug. Rafe’s smile disappears and he looks away.

Blake hands you a bottle of flavored seltzer and you look down at it, cocking your head, trying to figure out how to kindly turn it down. It’s the same flavor of spiked juice you drank last night.

“She doesn’t like that flavor,” Rafe mutters.

Blake meets his gaze, pulling the drink back towards his chest.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. Funny enough, you actually mentioned not liking it on your date when you were swapping hangover stories. He looks at you. “I knew that. Sorry.”

“All good,” you chuckle. “What else you got?”

Blake leads you to the large cooler in the sand and you steal a glance at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched tight.

As the afternoon goes on, you realize Blake is less nervous talking to you when other people are around.

The eight of you play a game of beach volleyball. Rafe considers Blake lucky that he’s on the same team as him. He’d whip the ball at him every chance he got if he were on the other side of the net.

At one point, Sam serves it so hard that you have to duck onto the sand, the ball bouncing off your arm, leaving a stinging feeling.

“You trying to kill her?” Liv scolds her teammate. You feel a hand cupping your forearm.

“You good?” You look up to see Rafe leaning over you, his voice deep.

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe is pissed off beyond belief that Blake is just standing there like an idiot, watching you instead of making sure you’re okay.

“You alright?” Blake asks from his place on the court in front of you.

“Yellow card worthy,” you joke, getting up on your feet.

When the game wraps up after you all decided to stop keeping score ages ago, Blake approaches you, looking down at you with a shy smile.

“You wanna swim?” he asks.

“Sure,” you say.

The water is so cold that it feels sharp, leaving you and Blake to laugh together with every step into the sea.

Rafe is sitting in the sand with his buddies, watching Blake’s hand find yours. The view makes his stomach turn.

It seems natural between you two, the way you touch, the way you splash each other and laugh together.

He gets the same feeling he did the night of the mixer party, when he felt like his anxiety over losing you wasn’t just because he was losing great, casual sex. It’s not only that. It’s more. And that fact makes him uncomfortable.

But that shit just doesn’t come naturally to Rafe. Affection is like a foreign language to him. He’s not into the boyfriend stuff solely because he doesn’t want to do it. It’s also because he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

Buying flowers, planning dates… he’d feel totally lost. He can’t compete with Blake. Like Rafe always says, doing something serious like dating in college is a waste of time. Maybe he believes that because he didn’t think he’d meet someone like you. And because he doesn’t want to fail at it.

You and Blake stop when you figure you’re deep enough in the water, the sand soft beneath you, the sun shining down.

“I keep messing up today,” he says.

“What?” He looks down, shaking his head, lips twisting adorably. These cute, little moments remind you of why you have a crush on him.

“Can I kiss you?” Blake asks.

You smirk, relieved that you can finally do this and feel if your physical chemistry is there like you think it is.

When Rafe sees two figures join in the distance, his heart drops.

(part nine)

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[wolfmoonmusic]

hiiii!!! can u do a valentine’s day angsty post where james and y/n are in a secret relationship because she’s a hufflepuff but he flirts with lily and gets her flowers on valentines so he doesn’t cause suspicion u get upset and cry and break up with him and he tries to win u back but remus gets u flowers and kinda helps u get over james??🤭🤭🤭 if u don’t wanna do this it’s totally okay!! love ur work<3

Secrecy:

A/N: This was so painful to write. But, it was also super fun.

Summary: You love James Potter and would do anything for him, including keeping your relationship an absolute secret. However, he may not feel the same.

Pairing: James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader, Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!reader

w/c: 3600+

Masterlist

Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

The room of requirements had a lot of uses.

“Jamie, stop it!” you giggled as your boyfriend peppered your face with kisses. He pulled away grinning, “What? I’ve missed you!” 

You shook your head, a sad smile taking over the grin you’d had before. “You wouldn’t have to miss me, if people knew about us,” you said, your hands fixing his hair, and adjusting his glasses. “If at least your friends knew,” you added, now fixing your own robes.

James closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “We’ve talked about this n/n,” he whined, cupping your face. His eyes searched yours, “I-I’ve told you, they can’t know.”

You shook your head, “You’ve never told me why, James.” You pulled his hands away from your face, bending down to pick up your bag, the next period would start soon. You tried to ignore how your chest tightened.

When James didn’t respond, bending down to pick his own bag up, you sighed. Everytime over the past few months that you’d had this conversation, it ended the same way. Sometimes, you wondered, if he was embarrassed of you, but it made no sense, because all of his friends loved hanging out with you.

Or so you thought. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“I-I just need you to trust me,” he said softly, adjusting his bag straps. You just stared at him blankly. It was scary how used to this you were by now. 

“Right,” you whispered, before stepping past him and leaving.

He didn’t follow you. He never did.

When James had first told you he liked you, he’d also mentioned a need to keep it private. You’d wholeheartedly agreed at first, maybe he just didn’t want his friends all over the two of you. However, that didn’t make sense either. Sirius had openly teased the both of you on some occasions, when James had one too many drinks, and got a little too touchy around you. 

Of course, it happened only when he was drunk.

As days turned into weeks, you started wondering if he ever planned on telling at least his friends. He never got too close to you whenever you were around them. In fact, he’d barely even look at you. It was Remus who was always around you, talking and making you laugh.

If James hadn’t asked you out first, Remus might’ve been the one you were with.

He always made you feel wanted. In a way James never had. 

The worst part was that Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. And James hadn’t even brought it up. Even when you’d asked him, he’d just shrugged and said “I’ll come up with something.”

You definitely didn’t miss the way his friends kept pushing him towards Lily Evans. Or how he seemed to be subtly flirting with her, every time you looked at him when you were in public.

At first you would cry in your dorm room, unable to tell anyone about how you felt, because no matter how much you hated it, you still felt obliged to keep it a secret. Over time, you learnt to shrug it off, allowing the pain to grow in your chest. You didn’t know what it was like to go through a day without that crushing sensation.

Sometimes you wished you weren’t that nice. 

As you entered class, you weren’t expecting Remus to excitedly wave you over, Sirius turning away from his friend to smile at you as well.

You couldn’t even avoid them, it’d seem suspicious. You plastered on a fake smile, making your way over to the boys.

“Hey Y/N,” they both chorused. 

“Hello,” you responded, settling down next to Remus. He held out a chocolate in the palm of his hand, and you gladly accepted, muttering a simple thanks.

This is what it was like to be around Remus. It wasn’t the constant fear of someone finding out. It didn’t come with the thoughts swarming in your head.

Your eyes found James walking into class, hesitating, for just a moment when he saw you, before his face returned to normal and he took a seat beside Sirius.

Of course, he didn’t give you a second glance.

Class started, causing you to shift your focus on your professor. You hated how routine it had all become. 

How unaffected you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you were walking back to your dorm, you felt someone grab your hand, pulling you behind a wall. 

“Y/N, don’t be mad,” James whispered. You stared at him blankly, before sighing softly. “How long?” you asked, staring directly into his eyes, hoping that you could decipher what was going on. He gulped, looking away for a minute, before his eyes landed on you again. “I-I don’t know,” he said, immediately looking down at his shoes.

You tried to blink away the gathering tears, nodding. “Look, James, I like being your girlfriend. But, I hate being your secret,” you said. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, full of panic. “You’re not my secret,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with confidence. You almost believed him.

Almost.

You scoffed. “Right because this,” you said, gesturing to your hiding spot, “doesn’t indicate that you’re hiding me.”

“No, no I-” he sighed frustratedly, a hand running through his hair. 

“I’ll see you in the Gryffindor common room in the evening. I’m studying with Remus. You,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “can ignore me as usual.”

With that, you left, unable to hold the onslaught of tears any longer. As the hot tears streamed down your face, you started running, picking up more speed as the feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t care that people were staring. You didn’t care that you could get into trouble. You just needed to get away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t go to class. You didn’t go to lunch. You sat in your room all day pondering your situation. It hurt you to think about it. You’d been so happy in the beginning, an amazing boyfriend, good friends, you had it all. But slowly, your sudden disappearances had increased, and you couldn’t explain it to your friends. You’d even missed your roommate's cake cutting on her birthday because you’d run off to find James.

They barely even talked to you now.

You sniffled, hearing voices as your roommates piled in, barely acknowledging you. You watched as they walked right past you, only one of them, Rose, the one who’s birthday you missed, paused to give you a sad smile, before joining the others in their discussion.

You couldn’t handle the pain anymore. It enveloped you completely, the numbness taking over. You quietly got up, leaving the room. Anywhere was better than here. 

As you got to your common room, you realized all the classes were over for the day. Your eyes scanned the room, as you tried to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be with Remus now. You didn’t want to go. James would be there.

But, you’d promised Remus yesterday. 

You sighed, deciding you had to go, leaving the common room, with no one to stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second you entered the common room, Remus called you over. Unfortunately, he was sitting with his friends. Including your boyfriend.

You walked over, ignoring the way James watched you, eyes trained on Remus. “Hi Remmy,” you said softly, taking a seat next to him. “Hello love. Are you alright? You weren’t in Defense Against the Dark Arts today,” he asked, brows furrowed together in concern. 

Did James even realize?

You nodded quietly, “Just needed to get away from everything for a while y’know?” 

Remus nodded, understanding taking over his features. 

“You don’t have your books,” Sirius pointed out.

You froze, you’d been so worked up that you hadn’t even realized.

“I - uh”

“ ‘S alright love, we can share,” Remus interrupted, passing his book over to you.

You smiled gratefully, “Thanks Moony.”

You knew James was watching you, but you didn’t look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It hurt too much.

“Oh! I heard someone’s secret relationship was found out!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed.

You couldn’t process what he’d just said. Did he - did he know?

“Who?” you heard James ask. Your eyes snapped to him, but he was looking at Sirius, face seeming amused.

Was he not worried? Or did he not care? Or…was he so sure that it wasn’t about you two?

However Sirius just shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care,” he pointed at the three of you, “however I think whoever it was is an absolute coward.”

Remus looked up from his book, “Coward?”

Sirius hummed in response. “You like someone enough to date them, why would you keep it quiet?” he asked, now looking at you, “If you’re not embarrassed or if it’s not forbidden love or something right n/n?” You were caught off guard by the question. 

The way he looked at you made you feel as if he knew more than he was letting on. 

“I uh-. Yeah, yeah, why would you?” you asked in response, looking at James. At this point, you didn’t care if someone suspected something. You wanted an answer.

James’s eyes widened in shock. “I-” 

The three of you were looking at him now. “You shouldn’t. Not if you care about the person enough,” he muttered, looking at everyone but you.

You didn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I- I have to go,” you whispered, before running out. 

Did he not care enough then? If that was just a response, framed to keep people from guessing, how far was he willing to go to keep this a secret?

You ran all the way to your dorm room, ignoring the way your roommates were looking at you with concern, before jumping on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow, and sobbing. 

None of them came to ask you what was wrong. Of course they didn’t. You hadn’t been there for them, constantly putting James first. 

The James that always seemed to put you last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in the morning, eyes puffy and head hurting. You hadn’t even changed into your pajamas. You groaned, sitting up slowly, eyes closed, as the events of the day before, flooded into your head.

“Hi.”

You opened your eyes, finding Rose sitting on your bed, a soft smile on her face.

“Hi?” you said, shocked that she was even talking to you. 

“You came in, a mess last night,” she laughed lightly.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment . She moved closer to you, placing a hand on your knee. “What’s going on?” she asked, voice filled with concern. 

You were surprised that she’d even asked. “I missed your birthday?” you asked in response, unable to form an actual sentence.

She laughed again, “I know you Y/N. You wouldn’t have done that unless something was going on.”

You felt your eyes water again. “You really want to know?” you asked, your voice shaking. She simply nodded, waiting for you to continue.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell her, but as the pain in your chest continued to grow with every second, you realized you needed to let it out.

So you did.

You told her everything. From the very beginning, to the conversation you’d had yesterday.

The second you’d finished, she engulfed you in a hug. “Oh n/n, you don’t deserve that,” she said, pulling away.

“But I mean, what I don't get is, why?” you whispered.

“I don’t know love, but you have to tell him,” she said sternly.

“Tell him what?” you asked, afraid of what she was going to say.

“That if he wants to stay with you, he should be willing to be open about it. Not PDA level but you know what I mean,” she said, taking your hands in hers.

You nodded. She was right. Absolutely right.

You had to tell him now. Why not? It was Valentine’s? It was perfect.

“I’ll tell him right now,” you said, getting off the bed.

Rose gripped your hand. “Not like this you’re not,” she told you, looking you up and down.

You laughed in embarrassment, “Right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose had helped you get ready, even helping you out with a bit of makeup. 

So now, as you sped across the halls, you were feeling confident. You were sure you mattered to him, so you didn’t worry too much about the conversation you were about to have. You were feeling good.

But then you heard the name Potter coming out of a certain redhead’s mouth. You came to a halt, turning to look at the scene behind you.

Lily Evans was holding a bouquet in her hands, blushing profusely. 

“I can’t believe he actually knows what flowers you like!” her friend exclaimed.

Lily nodded, “He might be a prick sometimes, but he really is good at this.”

Your heart dropped.

It can’t be.

You walked over to her clearing your throat. “Um, Lily?” you called, causing the girl to turn to you.

“Oh hey Y/N!” she smiled warmly. You returned it with a weak smile of your own, “I was just wondering,” you said shakily, pointing to the flowers, “who gave you those?” 

She grinned, “James Potter. As thick headed as he is, he’s also a sweetheart.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach, the color draining from your face. 

“You alright?” she asked, noticing the way your hands were shaking.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah of course. Have a nice day,” you said, quickly turning around and bolting. 

You had someone to go meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, barging into the Gryffindor common room. Sirius, Peter and Remus, and James all turned to look at you. Luckily there was no one else there.

Though, to be honest, you wouldn’t have cared.

You were tired of hiding.

“You gave Lily flowers?” you said, walking up to your boyfriend. 

He stood up, eyes wide. 

“Of course he did! Are you oblivious to how he’s head over heels for her?” Sirius interjected, confused as to why you were so angry.

You ignored him, eyes trained on your boyfriend.

“I-”

“Well? Did you? Or is she lying to me?” you asked, your eyes watering.

“Y/N”

“I swear to god James if you try to hide this even now, I will not hesitate to slap you.”

You could see how panicked James was. But you didn’t care. You were hurt beyond repair.

He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“I did,” he whispered.

Hot tears streamed down your face.

“But I swear,” he said, opening his eyes, “ I only did it to keep people off of us.” He tried to reach for your hand, but you pushed him away.

“Why?” you sobbed. Your chest felt like it was being crushed. Your heart, breaking into tinier pieces by the minute.

James huffed. “Because,” he started throwing his hands up in the air, “Because you’re a Hufflepuff!” he yelled.

You staggered back, the shock of the revelation came like a blow.

“What?” you whispered.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Remus asked, walking over to stand next to you.

James just shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Love,” Remus turned to you, a gentle hand on your shoulder, “what’s going on?” he asked.

Sirius stepped forward, “James fucked up, that’s what’s going on,” he supplied.

You and James looked at him in shock.

“I saw you both kissing a few days back,” he explained. “It completely threw me off, because Prongs here,” he threw an arm around James’s shoulder, “has been head over heels for Evans since first year.”

First year?

“However, he did tell us about catching feelings for you last year, though we thought it subsided because he never mentioned it again. Of course, I found out only recently that he didn’t mention it, because he was too up in his head about the whole ‘Gryffindor being a superior house’ thing,” Sirius said, making air quotes. You stared at James, not knowing how to process the information being dealt out.

“Then I saw you both snogging each other before Charms one day, and decided to bring it up. James however said you were just friends. But he wouldn’t shut up about how in love he was with Evans. Meaning one of two things,” Sirius said, moving away from James, holding out both his hands.

“One,” he said, lifting his left hand up, “James was using you to get the attention he wanted because Lily wasn’t paying him regard,” James opened his mouth to say something but Sirius cut him off, “but, James isn’t a prick. He wouldn’t do that.” Sirius said, lowering his hand. “Which could only mean,” he lifted his right hand now, “that James did in fact like you, but he couldn’t give up completely on Lily, and,” he paused, pointing to James, “he feels too superior about his house, as always.”

You blinked multiple times, trying to understand what Sirius had just said. 

He’d known yesterday. And he’d been trying to warn you.

“Y/N-” James started.

“Don’t. Don’t James. Don’t open your mouth and try to explain. You’ll only make it worse,” you seethed. Your hurt had completely transformed into anger.

“We’re done. Go on and snog Lily in front of everyone, yeah? She’s in Gryffindor,” you glared at him, before storming out of the common room, ignoring his protests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d spent the entire day in your room. Thinking, crying, and thinking some more. You’d told Rose, and then also told her you needed some alone time.

She’d been doing a great job at keeping everyone away.

Until now that is.

You heard a soft knock on your dorm room door.

“Please, not now,” you called out, hoping the person would go away.

“I uh- It’s me, Remus,” a soft, uncertain, voice called back.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got off the bed, opening the door to your visitor.

“Remus?” you asked, surprised.

He smiled at you warmly. “Hello love, may I come in?” he asked. You nodded, stepping aside to let him. You closed the door again, watching as he gently placed his bag on the floor before sitting on your bed.

“I had to bribe Rose with 2 weeks of free chocolates,” he laughed.

For the first time in hours, you felt a smile creep up onto your face. “Aww, you did that for me?” you teased, settling down in front of him.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, quietly. 

You froze, a warmth coating your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

He sighed, “James is- He’s an idiot. To hurt you like that. It’s-” he shook his head, “It’s fucked up and not fair on you. If I was him, I’d be showing you off,” he said, reaching over to place his hand on your knee.

You felt goosebumps erupt all over you at his touch.

“Even if I’m a hufflepuff?” you smiled sadly.

“Even if you’re a Hufflepuff,” Remus nodded, before adding, “In fact, I’m happy you’re not a Gryffindor, I know too many Gryffindors,” he laughed.

You felt yourself relax at the comforting sound, a small chuckle slipping past your lips as well. 

Remus bent over, searching through his bag before presenting a bouquet of (your favorite flowers).

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I- Are these for me?” you asked, reaching out slowly.

Remus nodded, “Just for you,” he said.

You pulled them close to your face, inhaling the fresh scent. “I love it, Moony, thank you,” you whispered. 

Remus just stared at you, his brown eyes filled with love. For a second, he looked away, as if pondering something, before his eyes landed on his hands. You watched as played with his sweater, shrugging, before taking in a deep breath, and looking into your eyes.

“I know it might be too early, but do you think- would you maybe- I don’t know how to say it,” he sighed, looking away.

You knew what it was immediately. Did you want it? Yes, so very badly. Because you were confident that Remus would treat you right. Even Rose thought so.

He knew you better than James ever had.

“Just say it Remmy,” you said, placing the flowers next to you, before taking his hands in yours.

He looked at you, staring into your eyes. You felt your heart pick up speed, thumping loud against your ribcage.

He shook his head, looking away again, unable to keep eye contact for long. 

You moved closer to him, knitting your hands together, sitting knee to knee. 

“I’d love to be your girlfriend. We- We’ll have to take it slow, but I’d absolutely love to do that Remus,” you said.

He gently untangled your arms, and worry took over. Is that not what he wanted?

But then, his lips were on yours, his hands on your waist, and your head was on cloud nine.

It wasn’t rushed, he took his time, savoring every second. It wasn’t mixed with the fear of being caught. Or the pain of knowing you wouldn’t get it again for a while.

No. You couldn’t think. Your heart took over your body, as you pushed back. Every fiber of your being, lighting up with joy.

It was like your first kiss all over again.

Until, someone threw the door open, and you almost feared how Remus would react.

But he didn’t recoil, or act like nothing had happened. He just backed away, shocked, one hand still on your waist, as the other ran through his hair, eyes closed as he let out a small airy chuckle. 

It was Rose. She was grinning. “I knew it!” she pumped her fist in the air. 

Remus laughed, shaking his head, “Now will you leave us alone? Unless you want to watch?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 

Rose’s eyes widened, and she held her hand up in defense, “No sir,” she said, before leaving, closing the door behind her, causing you to giggle.

Remus turned to you, smiling, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Promise we won’t be a secret?” You whispered.

“I promise,” he responded, pressing his lips to your forehead.

And he stuck to that promise, ‘till your heart went still.

#angst #x reader #fluff #x you #x you fluff #marauders era #marauders #marauders x reader #the marauders #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter x reader #james potter angst #james potter x you #james potter x yn #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #remus lupin x reader #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #sirius orion black #james fleamont potter #moony #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #remus lupin fluff #remus fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you

[vampiresbloodx]

Older!librarian!Wanda finally takes you out on a date after being too nervous and having that doubt that you don't actually even like her the way she thought you did, you two talk all the time whenever Wanda has a break on her shift, it's her favourite part of the day, just seeing you, smiling and laughing.

She was right about you being in college. It seems you're in your last year and still have no clue on what to do with your future. Wanda can see how much stress you're in with the finals coming up, it pains her to see you like this. She'd give you the whole universe if she could.

She doesn't know why she's so interested in you, these feelings are definitely not like anything she's already experienced. She was slightly confused herself, what she actually feels towards you, but what she does know is that it's love.

Wanda wants to hold you close to her, kiss you, make you happy, make you laugh, cry, and smile. She wants to see all of it. All of you. Every inch of you.

Maybe she's been reading too many romance books and sapphic fiction.

She just wants to wake up next to you, go to sleep with you every night.

And of course, there are other sinful things she wants to do that she finds herself thinking of when she's at work, in the shower, at home, it doesn't matter where, god, the sound of your voice, the way you look at her, ignites a flame inside her that she didn't know was even there.

Wanda grew up in a pretty Christian neighbourhood. It sucked. She was so used to tradition, how everything should be, not how she feels it should be.

Then you changed her mind on it all.

With one smile.

Wanda hasn't been on a date since.... Forever. Hell she doesn't even know who it was with. It probably was pretty bad then. She has been getting used to her phone so she can text you more and call you, just to hear you speak, when she asks you out, she was expecting a humiliating rejection, but when you smiled up at her, adorably so, you accepted.

"pick me up at 8?"

You said to her.

She nodded.

"see you then."

She watches you walk away, releasing a breath she didn't even know she was holding in.

Her hands were shaking, her heart hammering in her chest.

She felt like she was in highschool again.

Wanda had rushed home after her shift ended and she closed up the library for the night, she was panicking, unsure of what to wear and if she should bring wine or flowers, Wanda decided on both, and chocolate, but what if you were allergic? Dark chocolate. Or just roses.

She wore her best dress that made her feel young again, did her make up, and she felt good.

It was time to pick you up, she drove to your address that you had given her, it was a nice little apartment building she parked outside of and went to the door, pressing on the number of the button you told her to do.

"hello?"

There came your voice.

"hi, it's Wanda."

"oh hey! I'll be right down."

When she saw you, her mouth gaped open, her eyes widened, she felt so lucky, you looked gorgeous, you shy away from her gaze as she eyes you up and down, she steps closer, grabbing your hands as she kisses your knuckles.

A shiver went down your spine when you felt her lips, wanting to kiss her immediately.

"you look stunning."

Your cheeks burned.

"uh... Um, you look really beautiful too. Like really beautiful."

It was her turn to blush.

You chuckled, leaning in as you pressed a kiss to her cheek, her face practically turning red.

God you don't know what you're doing to her.

She took you out to a fancy restaurant, she saw your reaction and how surprised you looked, she chuckled, enjoying the way your eyes wondered all over the place.

"ms. Maximoff?" A guy at the counter greeted her, she nodded, smiling at him.

"your table is ready" he guided the two of you to a nice private era, with a candle lit.

Once he left you spoke up.

"damn, I was not expecting this. No one has ever taken me out to a restaurant!" You gushed.

She grinned, "how come? Anyone would feel lucky enough to show you off."

You bit down on your lip.

"keep flirting with me like that we won't even last till dinner."

She laughed, shaking her head.

-

The dinner went perfectly, and for a surprise, she took you back to the library, where you two first met, in that same spot.

"are we allowed to be here?" You asked in a whisper.

"hon, I practically run it."

"I know but what if we get caught!" You said, standing close to her.

"we won't" she says, unlocking the door.

You both entered as she locked the door from behind so no one else could get in, you two laughing as she brought you to the same spot she first saw you, you got quiet as you remembered it exactly, she smiled, caressing your cheek with her hand as she pressing her body against yours, your back hitting the book shelves.

"you look so pretty" she cooed, "god, I want to ruin you."

You whimpered, her eyes darkening at the sound as she leans in, kissing you on the lips, your hands coming up to wrap around her neck.

#wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x reader #older!wanda #more librarian!wanda hehe #stuff i wrote