#im stuck with no neighbors or friends or places to go

[lumosandnoxwriting]

you wanting me tonight feels impossible || George Weasley

Title: you wanting me tonight feels impossible Pairing: George x Reader Summary: running into an old friend just might be the thing you need Warnings: mentions of cheating but it does not take place between George and the reader!  A/N: here she is, the next part! Honestly writing this fic gave me major nostalgia vibes, to me it feels like a fic I would have written back when i first started on tumblr and honestly im not mad about it.

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“Y/N?”

She turns at the sound of her name, eyes widening in surprise at who she finds standing behind her. 

“Oh no way. George, hi,” Y/N greets. Her stomach flutters at the grin that spreads across his face, her mouth running dry at how good he looks. 

The last time she’d seen George they were seventeen, and he was flying away from Hogwarts with Fred by his side. Most people had been laughing, overfilled with joy at watching the twins get one last prank over on old Umbridge before they disappeared into the night. And Y/N had been happy too, but she also found herself a bit mournful. 

Her and George weren’t exactly friends she’d say, but acquainted in the way people from other houses were with each other after being in the same classes for seven years. They were friendly with each other in the halls and in classes, and the few times they’d been paired up for projects George had always been nice, and stuck around to talk with her about things unrelated to school or their coursework. 

And like most girls in their school, she had a massive crush on him. Y/N had spent countless hours pining after the Weasley boy, doodling hearts around his name and imagining what it would be like to run her hands through his soft ginger hair. 

So watching him fly away left her sad and mourning any chance she may have had with him. 

To see him here now, older and more refined but still as handsome as ever, has her heart pounding, mind already going places she never thought it would go again. 

“I thought that was you. How’ve you been?” George asks, holding his arms out for a hug. When she steps into his embrace he continues, arms wrapping around her middle. “It’s been ages, I never really see you around here.”

Y/N tries to keep her breathing even as George hugs her, not wanting to give away how much his casual touch is affecting her. She very much feels like that shy school girl she once was, no matter how many times she tries to remind herself that she is an adult now, and it’s perfectly normal for two acquaintances who haven’t seen each other in a while to hug. 

“I moved abroad after graduation,” she explains as they pull away, hoping the blush on her cheeks isn’t obvious. “I was doing some work with magical creatures in Australia, but I started to miss home.”

Y/N decides to leave out the fact that what really prompted her arrival back to England was the discovery of her fiance in bed with a woman she considered to be her best friend, figuring that’s more of a conversation the second or third time they see each other. If they see each other again. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up. 

“Don’t tell me you’re the new professor at Hogwarts?” George asks, a twinkle in his eye. When Y/N nods in affirmation, he laughs. “No way, that’s bloody brilliant. Fred and I are opening a branch of Wheezes up in Hogsmeade, I’m moving up there next week to run it. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors,” he finishes, nudging Y/N and giving her a wink. 

“Guess so,” Y/N laughs, trying to dampen the butterflies in her stomach. “It’s actually quite a relief to hear that, I was a bit nervous about being up there with no company besides my old professors. I’m glad to have a familiar face around.”

George’s grin widens. “I’ve gotta run, but it was really nice to see you again, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon.”

Just as quickly as he was there he’s gone again, just like all of those years ago. But Y/N doesn’t feel sad. There’s just one thing she’s feeling, really:

Hope.

-

“Fancy seeing you here.”

The grin that spreads across her face is automatic at the sound of George’s voice, and Y/N has to take a few deep breaths to center herself before turning around to greet him. She’s excited to see a matching smile on George’s face, and it only fuels the butterflies that have started to flutter in her lower belly. 

“George,” she greets, motioning to the empty seat next to her in invitation. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“I was hoping I’d run into you,” George starts as he takes a seat, shoulder nudging Y/N’s. “I was starting to think you were just a figment of my imagination.”

She can’t help the flush that takes over her cheeks, hoping it can be chalked up to the heat in the room from the crowded bar. Y/N has been up at Hogwarts for almost a week now, and while getting ready for classes and settling into her new suite at the castle has been time consuming, she’s been avoiding heading into Hogsmeade. It’s not that she hasn’t been dying to run into George again, because that is definitely something she has thought about nonstop since their last chance encounter. 

It’s more like she’s been scared to see him again, scared that whatever old feelings their chance encounter dragged back to the surface aren’t returned. That she has been dying to see him again while George was off living his life, not giving Y/N and their brief reunion another thought. 

But even in just these few short moments since he sat down, Y/N feels all those fears fading away. George is the one who sought her out, the bar is crowded enough that she’d have been none the wiser if he snuck in and took a seat somewhere else to try and avoid her. And yet he is the one who came over, the one who took a seat and decided to settle in at her side. 

Y/N can’t help but hope that this isn’t one sided after all. 

“Things have been busy up at the castle,” she explains, not totally lying. With only one week left until students arrive for the start of the year, even Filch has been on edge - constantly mumbling to Mrs. Norris as he mops the Great Hall for the fourth time. “This is the first night I haven’t been so exhausted that I fell asleep right after dinner.”

George chuckles, taking a sip of the firewhiskey Rosmerta has just placed on the bar in front of him. “I know the feeling. We did a bit of a soft launch this week for the new store, thinking it would be less busy without all the students around so I would have a chance to work out all the hiccups and get my new staff trained, but it was crazier than anticipated. So now I’ve spent the last few evenings working overtime to get everything sorted for our actual grand opening next weekend.”

“Look at you,” Y/N teases, bumping their shoulders together in a playful gesture. “Never thought I’d see the day George Weasley was putting in overtime. You sure you’re the same George who used to sleep through transfiguration?”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he drawls, giving Y/N a wink that makes her heart flutter. “I’ll have you know that I retained more information by sleeping through McGonagall’s lessons instead of daydreaming during it.” He pauses then, a more serious look taking over his features. “But in all honesty, it’s so different when it’s something you’re passionate about - ya know?”

Y/N nods when George looks to her for confirmation, prompting him to continue. 

“You’re right, in school I couldn’t be arsed to do more than what was required of me to not get kicked out. Though I guess it doesn’t really matter on account of the fact that Fred and I never finished anyway,” he pauses to chuckle and take another drag from his glass. “But doing everything for Wheezes, it doesn’t really feel like work. Like obviously at the end of the day I’m bloody exhausted and some days my whole body aches, but in the moment when I’m doing it, or when I stop to think about everything Fred and I have managed to achieve, I don’t really mind it at all.”

Hearing George speak so passionately about his work makes Y/N fall just a little bit more in love with him, and at the end of his speech she has to take a sip from her own glass to give her some time to think of something to say that’s not some kind of love confession. 

“I’m really happy for you, George. You’re clearly passionate about what you do, and I’m glad that you found that for yourself.”

George’s cheeks flush, and he takes another sip to try and hide it. “What about you, Y/N? Have you found your passion?”

The way he mutters passion makes Y/N’s toes curl, and she prays to Godric that the shiver that runs down her spine isn’t noticeable. 

“I thought I did,” she starts, shifting uncomfortably. She figured this conversation would come up eventually, but Y/N had been hoping she’d have more time to reconnect with George before airing out all of her dirty laundry. “The work I was doing in Australia was incredible. I could swear some of the creatures out there were straight out of a muggle fantasy novel, they were nothing like we’d ever learned about at Hogwarts.”

“So then why move back here?” George prompts when she hesitates to continue. 

“I came home early from work one day, one of our dragon’s eggs had hatched, and my boss let everyone go home to celebrate. And when I walked in I couldn’t find my fiance anywhere, until I went into our bedroom to change and he was there. In bed. Railing my best friend.”

The noise George makes causes her to pause, and Y/N gives him a sad smile before continuing. “I loved Australia, but suddenly I just really needed to get the fuck out of there, you know? Like it’s a huge continent and yet the only way I felt like I could put enough space between myself and that situation was to leave. So when McGonagall reached out about the position at Hogwarts I said yes and didn’t look back.”

“Holy fuck,” George breathes after a moment of silence, draining the rest of the liquid in his cup. “I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, that was the last possible thing I thought you might say. But holy fuck.” He gives her a look, motioning for Rosmerta to refill their glasses. 

“I’m sorry those dickwads did that to you, cheating is probably one of the worst things someone could do to you,” he continues once their cups are full again. “I’m sorry about Australia too, I can’t imagine having to leave Wheezes behind, it takes a special person to walk away from that.”

Y/N shrugs, desperately trying to trample down the butterflies in her stomach at George’s casual compliments. No matter how many times she tries to remind herself that George is just being a good friend, her brain can’t help but interpret his actions as something more. 

“I mourned the loss of my relationship and Australia for a bit, but I don’t know. Something about being back home at Hogwarts just feels right.”Something about being here with you too, her brain adds unhelpfully. “I mean, if I had stayed in Australia I never would have ran into you that day,” she chides, playfully bumping their shoulders together. 

The grin that spreads across George’s face is earth shattering, and he lets out a laugh as he raises his glass. “I’ll drink to that. Cheers, Y/N, to old friends and new beginnings!”

As their glasses clink together Y/N can only hope that her new job at Hogwarts isn’t the only new beginning they’re toasting. 

-

“Well I must say your workplace looks much more fun than mine,” Y/N jokes as she comes up behind George, giving him a grin as he twirls around to see her. “And miraculously it seems much louder as well,” she continues following a roar of laughter. 

“Y/N!” George greets excitedly, his smile stretching across his entire face. “I was hoping I might see you here today.”

She can feel her cheeks flush, and takes a deep breath in to try and quell the butterflies in her stomach. “Of course, there’s no place I’d rather be on my first day of freedom.”

Since the day students arrived at Hogwarts, Y/N has barely had time to breathe - let alone sneak down to Hogsmeade. Between planning her lessons, actually giving those lessons, grading assignments and fielding student questions and visits to her office, the only thing Y/N has managed to do once she retires to her quarters in the evening is pass out face first into bed. And while her and George have exchanged a few owls here and there since their last encounter, nothing beats actually seeing him in person.

So when McGonagall asked for staff volunteers to chaperone the first Hogsmeade trip of the term, Y/N’s hand was first in the air. She’d much rather spend her Saturday meandering through the little village than facilitating weekend detention. And if she happened to wander into the new shop along main street that’s run by a familiar ginger boy - then so be it.

“I’m honored,” George responds. He gestures wildly with his hand, taking a step closer to Y/N so he can lean in closer. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

George leads Y/N around the shop then, pointing out different products and explaining what they do. He keeps a hand pressed to the small of her back to keep her close, and the heat of his palm sends tingles radiating through her body. She’s mesmerized by the way he talks about his work, and Y/N is almost too focused on watching his eyes twinkle that she’s not even sure what he’s actually saying most of the time. At one point he even leans in to whisper in her ear so she can hear him over the noise of the store, and the feeling of his breath brushing her cheek sends a wave of shivers down her spine. 

It seems like only a matter of minutes before Y/N and George end up back where they started, and much to her surprise and joy, George doesn’t make a move to pull away. His hand stays firmly pressed against Y/N’s back, and she takes the liberty to lean in even closer to the ginger man. 

“So,” George murmurs, lips barely brushing against her hair. “What do you think of the place?”

“It’s great, George,” she answers honestly, still in awe of everything Fred and George have managed to build over the last few years. “You can tell how much you really care about what you do, and the creativity George, your mind is incredible.”

A light blush coats George’s cheeks as he waves away Y/N’s praise. “Oh stop, it’s not like I’m a professor or anything,” he teases, giving her a nudge. “I’m just a silly guy with a brother and a dream - that’s all.”

“George,” Y/N admonishes, nudging him right back. “You really are brilliant, and anyone who’s ever made you doubt that is a git. What you and Fred have done is amazing, you’ve taken your passion for something and turned it into this empire that does nothing but bring joy to people. That took a lot of hard work, dedication and skill. It’s incredible George - truly.”

Neither one says anything, just letting Y/N’s words hang heavy between them. The noise of the shop has faded into the background, electricity so heavy in the air Y/N can feel it tingle on the tip of her tongue. George starts to slowly lean down just as she starts to tip her head back, their bodies moving closer of their own accord. 

Eyelids fluttering closed, Y/N can feel George’s breath ghost across her lips - the only thought in her head a quietly whispered “finally.” 

Just as suddenly as they came together, Y/N and George separate as a worried voice calls out. “Professor! Professor, come quick! John and Thomas are fighting again!”

“Duty calls,” George sighs, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. He lets his thumb drag down across her jaw, pausing momentarily to lightly grapes her chin. “See you soon?”

All she can manage in response is a nod. Taking one more moment to mourn what could have been, she rushes away from George, cursing those damn kids to hell.

-

“Excuse me professor - do you have a moment?”

Y/N’s hand pauses mid scribble, fingers practically snapping the quill she’s holding in half as she looks up to find none other than George Weasley standing in the doorway to her office. The smile that spreads across her mouth matches the one George is wearing and she pushes the papers she’d been grading, gesturing for him to come in. 

“I think I may be able to spare a moment just for you,” she teases. Y/N stands up from behind her desk, watching George closely as she comes around to stand in front of him. “How in the hell did you get in here?”

George chuckles, stuffing his hands into his packers as he gives Y/N a shrug. “Turns out the secret passages Fred and I used to sneak out of the castle are just as helpful when trying to sneak in to it.”

Y/N tuts, shaking her head as if in shame. “George Weasley sneaking into Hogwarts. What would Fred have to say about that?”

“Fred snuck out plenty of times to go and see a cute girl, I reckon he’d understand me sneaking in to do the same.”

George’s boldness surprises Y/N, and she suddenly can’t make eye contact as her cheeks flush pink. A single finger comes to rest on the underside of her chin, slowly tilting Y/N’s face up so she and George are looking at each other once again. Her body feels electric as their eyes meet and a shiver runs down her spine. 

“Hi,” George greets breathily after a moment of silence. The smile he gets in response causes a torrent of butterflies to erupt in his stomach and he can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage. 

“Hi,” Y/N responds, voice barely above a whisper. 

If you had told her all those years ago that someday she’d be standing here right now with George Weasley with his hand pressed against the side of her neck as his thumb skates across her jaw line she would have called you crazy. It seemed impossible that George would even give Y/N a second thought, let alone sneak back into the castle for just a moment with her. All of her dreams are coming true - and Y/N is too tempted to pinch herself to make sure it’s all real. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” George starts. The words move quickly out of his mouth, as if he’s trying to get them all out before he loses the confidence he has managed to scrounge up. “Like since that moment I saw you at the potion shop all those months ago. My one regret from our school days was that I never got the nerve to ask you out. And then when I never saw you in the shop or around Diagon Alley I figured I’d missed my chance. So when I saw you that day, standing in the middle of a shop I’d gone to hundreds of times over the years it felt like, I dunno it felt like.”

“A second chance,” Y/N finishes for him, voice lit with disbelief. 

George grins, giving a small nod. “Yes, exactly like that. And suddenly you were every thought that occupied my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about running into you again, and the interactions we had in school, what might happen between us now that we’d be living ten minutes from each other. You were just on a loop in my thoughts.”

“It was probably stupid of me,” George continues, eyes never leaving Y/N’s. “We’d had one conversation after years of not speaking and we were never really friends at school but I couldn’t help but feel-.”

“Hope,” she finished again. “And it wasn’t stupid of you, George. Because I felt the exact same way. Seeing you that day made me truly believe that taking that job at Hogwarts was my opportunity for a second chance. A second chance at finding my dream job, of finding my true home, of finding true love. You made me feel that George and I-.”

Except whatever Y/N was about to say disappears from her mind, as George takes the opportunity to interrupt her this time. Without a second thought he finally closes the distance between them, their mouths slotting together so perfectly it was like they were made for each other. Her hands find his shoulders as his find her neck, angling them so he can kiss her deeper. 

And there’s still so many things they need to talk about and figure out. But in this moment the only thing Y/N can think about is George, and this weird but beautiful thing they’re about to discover. 

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley fic #gw #harry potter fanfiction #golden #midnights: an anthology

[februaryflowers]

cherry sugar lip scrub

order up: a honey bubble tea with cheese foam and seungcheol for anon ! 

a fluff neighbor/roommate friends to lovers

check out the (now closed) carat writers club summer fair event!

warnings: cheese perhaps, kissing, not proofread im sorry 😭

fluff, 670 words, seungcheol x reader

a/n: inspired by my own lip scrub exfoliator thing LOL 

“What’re you doing?” 

The voice makes you jump, the bathroom having been silent just before, but you smile knowing that all is well. Nothing could possibly happen to you when Seungcheol is home. 

“Y’know how it’s been dry lately?” you ask, rubbing the smooth stick in circular motions over your lips once more.

“Yeah…”

“So my lips are kinda going through it. I’m just tryna get rid of all the dead skin and stuff.”

He hums, watching as you pucker your lips in the mirror, a lump forming in his throat. So…does that mean…your lips taste…like whatever flavor that thing is in? 

Shaking his head, he tries to steel his nerves. Roommates let alone friends shouldn’t have those kinds of thoughts about other roommates, let alone friends. But he can’t help the little jump his heart does when you glance back in his direction.

“Do you wanna try it?” you ask, holding it out to him. 

“W-wha—would that be okay?” He scratches the back of his neck, his eyes trained on the other self care products you have out on the counter. “I don’t wanna intrude…”

“You could never, Cheol,” you tease, coming over to push his shoulder lightly and hand him the lip exfoliator. 

He follows you back to the spot at the sink, staring at his reflection in front of him. With you now resuming your routine, he glances at you. How did you do it? Do you just—

He starts swiping it across his mouth, the sugar crystals stuck in the wax. Even if he’s not quite sure on what he’s supposed to be doing, he knows this doesn’t feel right. Squinting at the tube, he turns it around in his hands, trying to find some instructions.

But before he can come up empty handed and sigh, you take it from his fingers. Your hands land on his shoulders and spin him around to face you, his face wide eyed and a faint pink blush starting to color his cheeks.

“Y/n—”

“Uh uh uh,” you coo, gently pushing his jaw closed. “Pout for me?”

He does as you say before you start applying the scrub in the same way you’d done a couple minutes ago. With the sweet crumbs now sitting pretty on his lips and the soft cherry scent of the wax now wafting into his nose, he closes his eyes. Is this what you taste like? Is this what it would be like to kiss you? 

He darts his tongue out to taste the balm, instantly met with the saccharine flavor of artificial cherry. But, even though you still haven’t finished, he doesn’t think his mouth has ever felt this soft before. That knowledge certainly doesn’t help his fantasies about kissing you. 

“All done!” you exclaim, pulling away to admire your handiwork as his eyes spring open. “You can rinse off the sugar. Whaddya think?”

He turns on the faucet, running water under his fingers and rubbing it against his lips. 

“S-soft,” he murmurs. 

“Right! Isn’t it nice? I can’t believe I got this for like five dollars. Such a steal.”

But before you can return to the counter and finish your self care regimen, Seungcheol tugs on your hand, turning you to face him. Opening his mouth, he quickly closes it when surprise flashes behind your eyes.

“Oh I forgot!” You rummage through the cabinet before you pull out another balm product. “You can put this on after too.” Taking off the cap, you quickly run it on your lips and hold it out to him. “Just like that. Do you wanna try?”

However his lips are on yours before you can even blink, your body frozen from his warmth being so close to you. 

“It’s good,” he whispers, pulling away to rest his forehead against you all too soon.

Exhaling, you try to steady your heart as you place the product on the counter and move your hands to his back with a few pats. “I think you should try that again.”

#cwcsummerfair #caratwritersclub #summer fair drabble requests #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seungcheol imagines #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #s.coups imagines #s.coups scenarios #s.coups fluff #seventeen s.coups #mei's #mei.svt

[queer-irritator]

A New Neighbor | Kratos x GN! Reader | Chapter 6

Content Warnings: Adult language

Word Count: 1,089

Chapter 5, Chapter 7

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You had heard about mystic gateways before, but you’ve never used one. You watched Kratos as he held up a glowing blue rock and the gateway constructed itself. Kratos opened the gate and walked through, you followed behind him, and Atreus was close behind you.

You stepped into an entirely different world; it was beautiful. You let out a small, “Wow” as you took in your surroundings, the light blue hue of the sky and foliage was breathtaking. 

“Pretty cool, right?” Atreus nudged your arm slightly. “This is where our friends Sindri and Brok live, they’re brothers.” You nodded and followed him as he led you into the house. 

“Hey! How the fuck are ya?” A voice boomed the second you stepped inside. 

“Our protection stave around our house is badly damaged.” Kratos got right to the point. 

“We were hoping you could repair it, but… there’s not much to work with.” Atreus took over speaking for his father. 

“Hmm…” A blue dwarf scratched his beard, “I’d have to takes a looks at it.” 

“I can show you now.” Atreus offered, already walking to the exit of the house. The blue man, you didn’t know if this one was Brok or Sindri, started to follow Atreus, but then he stopped in his tracks as he noticed you. “The fuck are you?” He looked to Kratos. “Ya taking in strays now?” 

You couldn’t help but drop your jaw in shock at the man’s brashness. “Uhm… I’m (y/n).” you began to compose yourself, “I’m Kratos’ neighbor.” You stuck out your hand to shake the dwarves’.

“Hmm…” He stared at your hand for a second, then he shook it roughly. “The name’s Brok. Don’t mind my brother, Sindri if you see ‘im… got a couple of screws loose.” He warned you before following Atreus out the door. 

Before you could wrap your head around the most foul language you’ve ever heard from a stranger, another dwarf, Sindri you assume, came rushing out of a back room. 

“I heard a voice I don’t recognize-“ Sindri had made eye contact with you and froze, then his eyes scanned down your body slowly.

“…Hi, I’m (y/n). You must be Sindri! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kratos’ neighbor.” You explain for the second time as you walk toward Sindri and stick your hand out for a handshake. 

“Eugh…” The dwarf sounded disgusted as he took a step back from you. “Uhm… I don’t touch other people. I don’t know where they’ve been or what filth they’ve gotten into.” You sighed in defeat and put your hand back at your side. Were you just going to get disrespected by every new person you met? 

“Wait- I don’t mean… I’m not saying YOU are filthy, I just-“ Sindri knew he messed up by the look on your face.

“We need to stay here.” Kratos interrupted. 

“Yes, I… overheard.” Sindri trailed off and peeked behind Kratos, and his suspicions were confirmed. There was a trail of dirt behind him. “Just, please remember to remove your shoes outside!” he whipped out a mop and began to clean the floor. 

You took off your shoes immediately and held them in your hand, unsure of where to place them. 

Kratos grumbled in annoyance and walked over to a table and sat on a chair, ignoring Sindri’s request. You decided to be safe and place your shoes just outside the front door. Sindri had just finished mopping up, “There.” He let out a sigh of relief, “Oh! Does anybody want a snack? Water? Crackers?” 

“No.” Kratos replied, annoyed.

“Sure!” You accepted his offer, you hadn’t eaten yet today, and neither had Kratos. 

“On it.” Sindri went into the kitchen and got a bowl of grapes, a few slices of bread, and butter and set it down on the table. 

“We usually have dinner an hour before sunset, and I will go set up your rooms!” With that, Sindri was off to clean and set up impromptu bedrooms. 

You sat down adjacent to Kratos and placed the bowl of grapes in between the two of you. 

“You should eat.” You advised, as you buttered a piece of bread. 

Kratos hesitated, wanting to protest, but he was tired. He picked off a grape and ate it. 

You smiled at him as you took a bite of bread. “So… What brought you to live out here?” You wanted to learn about the man sitting before you. You hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him alone yet. 

“It is not of importance.” He stated, eating another grape.

“Aye, come on brother.” Mimir piped up. Kratos untied him from his belt and sat him on the table. 

“(Y/n) opened up to us last night, we should return the favor.” He was trying to coerce the god to open up a bit.

“We?” Kratos looked at Mimir.

“Alright… you.” Mimir admitted.

“It’s okay, I don’t want to push you. Just your company is enough.” You admitted to him.

Kratos was silent for a while, taking bites of bread. 

“I have… done things.” He started, “I left my homeland and the life I had there behind. I wanted to be… better.” 

“I can understand that.” You empathized, “Trying to run from who you used to be.” You gingerly set a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “But we are not our mistakes. We can learn from them and grow… we can be better.” 

Kratos had met your gaze for a few seconds, then looked down to the food in his hand. 

“Thank you.” He stated, appreciating your words but not fully believing they could be applied to himself. 

You gave him a sad smile, even though he was looking away. You gave his shoulder a soft pat before returning your hand to your lap. “If you ever need to talk, or get anything off your chest, you can talk to me. I know we’re still practically strangers, but…” You trailed off, not knowing how to put your feelings into words. “I guess, I hope that we’re not strangers for much longer.” 

“Mmh.” It was the nicest grunt you’ve heard from him so far. 

Kratos couldn’t understand why you were being so kind to him, he didn’t think he deserved kindness. What really puzzled him was that, there was nothing for you to gain from him. You couldn’t die, so you don’t need protection. You have your own house, you didn’t even have to come here with him. He didn’t understand you. It intrigued him. 

#gow #gowr #gow fanfic #gowr fanfic #god of war #god of war ragnorak #god of war fanfic #god of war fanfiction #kratos x reader #kratos x gn reader #atreus #gow atreus #mimir #gow mimir #brok #gow brok #sindri #gow sindri

[honeeslust]

My favorite song lyrics and who they make me think of ☺️…JJK version

I can lie to you and tell you you can get me out your head. But I’m loving all the pain I’m causing too much instead.

- Toji

Do you wanna test me now my love? You must be crazy if you think that i will give in so easily.

- Suguru

I want you close then (I say and) close ain't close enough.

- Yuji

Fall into your eyes like a grave. Bury me to the sound of your name.

-Megumi

You're looking in the wrong place for my love. Don't think because you're with me this is real.

- Suguru

Gon let him buy you dinner tonight. And at the end of the night. You be my dinner tonight.

- Toji

Girl I fuck who I want. And fuck who I don’t.

- Toji

You say were just friends but I swear when nobodys around. I keep my hand around your neck to connect are you feeling it now?

- Satoru

My face, your throne. Baby girl, daddys home and we still going strong. Ima pick her up and then it's on. ain't no neighbors on the top floor now we in Morocco. Baby cold, Ima make her hot though. Come again. Oh you want an encore. Okay now my face your throne. Baby girl daddys home. Six Zone. Yeah im still going strong.

- Satoru

I miss the way you say my name. The way you bend, the way you break. Your makeup running down your face. The way you fuck. The way you taste.

- Todo

Your legs, your hips your eyes. My hands. Your dirty mind. I love your cherry pie. Seconds for me tonight. What we do it ain't no crime. I do the time.

- Satoru

She wanna fuck a nigga like she love me. she got a lover but I might get lucky.

- Toji

She's not mine yet. But im puttin in the work to get it like that. Even changed the way that I write back. Caring bout the words that I put next to each other. She's, got me like that. She's the girl stuck in my screen. So far away from me.

- Choso

#hones playlist #blackgirlswhowriteanimesmut #jjk oneshot #jjkfluff

[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (Din Darin x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature 

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: nothin much. no smut. canon typical violence, explicit language, blood, Mando being Mando. im posting this bc im petty and because I feel bad that I never posted it in the first place. also this is over a year old so I apologize it’s not great 

Never, in the entirety of your life did you think you’d return to Tatooine. Tatooine for fuck’s sake. A literal sandbox that upholds no feasible joy unless you count the annual womp rat raid or the pod races in Mos Espa. Even then—yikes.

Didn’t think a kid nicknamed Wormie would be the one to blow up the Death Star either. Or yknow, dethrone Jaba the Hutt with some fancy laser sword. Or was it a chain? Ah, whatever—good riddance to that slimy pile of sentient boogers. 

Anyway—

You should have followed Wormie’s example and steered clear of this place—taken up that permanent post as Red Leader for the Alliance and live out your days in a cushy position on Naboo or something. But, you never did enjoy taking the path of least resistance, you’re a pilot after all. Live and die for all that risky shit—the thrill of a fight and near brushes with death. You’d rather stake out your own journey in life—forge out a path so bright that other’s cant help but envy.

Growing up on Tatooine, there weren’t many kids your age—you were always the youngest by nearly four years (not that it ever stopped you from nipping at the older kids’s heels). To this day you can still recall every face, every dumb nickname and inside joke you all created—all the dares and stupid challenges like licking a womp rat’s tail or eating a handful of sand (you always won). Wild and free like a pack of yipping dogs—smiling, dirt stained faces and scuffed up boots worn down to the sole each month. Scrapes and bruises were flaunted as trophies, a chipped tooth like a shiny metal pinned upon the chest. Trouble wasn’t in the vocabulary of your mouth’s—back then it was just fun.   

But time has a way of twisting and mangling the glimmer of childhood. Everyone grew up—more responsibility and less time to play on the dunes. School instead of riling up a nest of whatever doomed creature you could find. Petty arguments that turn into venomous resentment, culminating rifts in friendships and the battle of loyalties between friend groups. 

You’re not sure when the bitterness of living on Tatooine settled in. Sometime between your first schoolyard fight over who would get the desk near the window and the gossip of your upbringing that followed you around like an ugly second head. Or maybe it the way everyone assumed you’d morph into the collective—a moisture farmer or maybe a mechanic like your aunt. One thing always stayed the same. You never outgrew the snarling beast that festered in your chest, it only grew with you over time.         

Call it the age difference or the simple fact you were more feral creature than child, the two people who stuck around for the long haul were the neighbors’ kids. You chased off everyone else—decided that being alone was better than falling in step with mediocracy and someone else’s footsteps. If anyone would leave Tatooine first, it was going to be you. 

Then Biggs left. 

The Skywalker’s farm burnt down, the entire family too, shortly after Biggs’ departure. Everyone assumed Luke died along with them—you believed it as well. Scoured the farm and the corpses with blurry eyes and the hurt, worse than ripping off fingernails with tweezers, bloomed in the cavity of your heart. The worst part of it all was no one cared. No one gave a shit about the culprits or impeding war that was always glossed over on the local radio—they were all fine with sitting and becoming complacent.       

A year passed—and the night of your sixteenth birthday you jumped ship the second the opportunity presented itself. Living in a space port had it’s perks—someone was always going somewhere. You snuck on board of a clunky freighter headed towards Takodana and that was it. Fueled by spite and the need to be part of something bigger. 

The rest happened in a blur. You joined the Alliance—you found Biggs and Luke, alive and well, only to be ripped apart by different destinies another time over. You became a pilot—Red Leader in fact, and damn good at it. Helped blow up the Death Star (the second one that is) and that was that. 

No one tells you that returning home is the scariest part of it all. But—it’s Tatooine for Kriff’s sake. Hardly anything had been touched, the people all the same and uninterested in the outside world. A relieved hug from Peli had been expected—no anger at your unapproved departure—just a resentful frown at the stitched up laceration over your brow and part of your cheek. She didn’t yell about how worried sick she’d been or the lame and infrequent, encrypted holovids you sent to assure that you were still alive and not blown to bits. You told her you didn’t expect to stay long…funny how it’s been five years since then.  

Look at you know, you think with a bemused scoff. Washed out and living in your aunts hangar in the prime of your youth. Guess your glory days had come to a lazy, halting stop.  

The life of a mechanic in Mos Eisley is never overwhelmingly busy—a day or two off every now and then if you so choose. Only thing you frequently find yourself doing is participating in a long standing rivalry between you, a broom, and and the congregation of overly curious Jawas. One night—one kriffing night you left a rusty speeder and a couple power converters out and now they think it’s easy pickings—  

Whatever.

As long as they don’t start physically manifesting inside the spaceport it’s fine. Totally cool. 

Besides swatting the little creatures away with your trusty broom each morning to clear a path, there’s not much to do on Tatooine—not unless you fancy throwing in on a Sabaac tourney or brushing elbows with none too desirable folk. You stick to the landing dock and work. Busy hands keep the mind occupied after all.

But it’s Tatooine—

Dust storms that’ll scrape up the insides of you nostrils and make your nose bleed or leave you blind, Imperial sympathizers, smugglers, you name it. You never make a habit of familiarizing yourself with whoever lands in your hangers—bad for business and honestly? You’d rather not get kidnapped and sold off to the Spice mines on Kessel for opening your big fat mouth. 

So, naturally your only option for a cheap drink and the affirmation that, yes, you can in fact still leave Tatooine whenever you’d like, is to go off-world.  

Bakura is a hop away—far enough you never run into anyone twice and close enough that the charter fare is dirt cheap. It’s always the same cantina, same back left corner that provides an excellent view of the exit and the neighboring lavatories that boasts amusing in-house drunken brawls. What’s better than this? Guys being dudes—petty squabbles over fragile masculinity and an urge to prove something dumb.       

Tonight is slow—regulars night you suppose. Or is it a weekday? Maker you don’t even know what day it is. 

Sighing, your eyes lazily crawl over the drab decor in the cantina, sipping on a neon blue drink that tastes like those little blue candies. Y’know—the ones that grandmas always have stashed away in delicate glass bowls and insist you take a handful even though the candies are the same age, if not older than grandma. 

You pinch the little black straw between your fingertips and take another sip. Too sweet for your liking, but a damn good chaser for the Corellian fire whiskeys you’ve amassed. In fact, just as you’re putting the rim of the shot glass to your lips, the liquor already bright and hot against your bottom lip—you see him.     

There, in the opposing corner of the dingy cantina, you spot the familiar sheen of tempered beskar.  Neon lights from the nearby exit reflect off his cuirass, hyperspace blue that switches to fuchsia pink then back again like a dizzying light show. His helmet is tilted in the direction of the bar, analyzing the couple lingering near the last two stools. You know the little lime green Twi’lek—not by name—but because she’s always somehow wrist deep in her target’s pocket while they all but drool over the deep cut of her cleavage. None the wiser as they’re robbed blind. The poor bastard currently playing into her finely spun web is no different.  

Good for her—

You flick your eyes back over to the Mandalorian and force down a surprised cough as the full weight of his attention settles on you. The likelihood of him being here on matters concerning you are high, but Stars, you weren’t expecting him. How’d he even get inside without you noticing anyway?

The guy is a walking armory donning beskar that sparkles brighter than kriffing diamonds and worth more than than the entirety of Tatooine you’d bet—he’s not an easy thing to miss. Mando is broad—even more so with the added bulk of armor, and in theory that much metal should make some sort of sound.

You scratch your brow with your thumb and sigh. Fuck. You must be loosing your edge or you’re drunker than you thought. 

Well, no use just sitting here and having an awkward staring contest you certainly won’t win—might as well invite him over. You raise your hand in a begrudging wave and pull your face into a mask of an indifference. Mando places his hands on the table and pushes off to stand, tattered cloak scraping along the sticky floor as he covers the short distance between you. 

Gesturing to the open seat on your right, Mando takes up the offer and sits with a muted grunt—guess that armor is heavy. 

“Funny seeing you here,” you sigh, kicking back a shot of another fire whiskey. The glass clinks against the sticky table and joins the growing array of crystalline tumblers. One of those nights where the pain of the past stings worse than alcohol splashed into an open wound. “Did Peli send you? I left a note, y’know.”

“I’m not here for you,” he assures, a smooth rasp even with the static distortion of the vocoder. He turns his head and sweeps the room with poised nonchalance—your heart jumps as the darkened visor returns to you with a weight heavier than the catch and pull of a black hole. “You got a habit of running off?”

Your bottom lip tastes bitter as your tongue passes over it. “Depends on who you ask.” 

“Hm.” Mando’s pensive hum tapers off into stagnant silence. 

This is why, you think with a miserable frown, you always drink on your own. Too many awkward pauses like this and the embarrassment of being tipsy in front of a sober person—you’re off your guard. Plus—you’re not even sure why he’s here— 

You clear your throat and beckon over the bartender with a wave of your hand—Ekah is working tonight. A Mirialan around your age—skin the color of fresh honey and pale green eyes to compliment. Ekah taps two fingers to his temple in acknowledgment and finishes scrubbing down a tumbler with a rag that’s seen better days. He steps around the bar and wanders to your table, his right brow quirking in curiosity at the sight of the Mandalorian.    

“Finally making friends, Skitter?” The hexagonal tattoos inked into the sharp slopes of his cheeks crinkle as he smiles. “And here I was, thinking I was special.”

“Fuck off, Ekah.“ You scowl. “Neither of you are my friend.” 

Ekah gasps and places a hand over his heart in mock offense. “So cruel for such a sweet face.”

Your eyes narrow. “Ekah—“

He sighs, roll his eyes and waves his hand in a shooing motion. “Alright, alright—what is it you want?”

“Closing tab—“ you spare a glance at Mando. He cocks his head to the side. “—uh, unless—do you want…anything?”       

Stars that was awkward. 

Mando lifts his palm off the table and shakes his head in a no. You figured, because of the helmet and all…Worth a shot. 

“Great—“ You nod, shifting onto your weight to fish out the credits in your pocket as Ekah announces your total.

Yet before you even have the physical money in your hand, Mando reaches into his supply bag and pulls out the full amount, plus a hefty tip. “I’ve got it.”

Mando hands it over much too quickly for you to protest and Ekah, opportunistic as a bartender is, collects his credits and shoves them into his pocket, never to be seen again. 

“Cheers, metal man,” he grins. He spares Mando a salacious wink and spins on his heel, a couple midnight black strands of his hair falling out of place as he hurries back to the bar. “See ya ‘round, Skitter.”

Your brows furrow as you puff out your lower lip, head swiveling to glare at Mando. “Why’d you do that? I can pay for myself.”  

Mando has the audacity to shrug. “Wanted to. We’re friends aren’t we?”

He knows damn well where he stands. You clench your jaw and jerk your eyes back to the table. It never sits right with you when someone offers to pay—feels like a slimy rock in the pit of your stomach. On Tatooine you learn to fend for yourself at an early age—leaning on the help of others tended to land you in more trouble than you could shake off. Worst case you ended up at Jabba’s Palace as a nice little side dish for the local rancor, best case you payoff the favor working at a moisture farm for a couple days. 

Simply put—no one does a favor simply for free.   

Anyone who offers is cause for suspect. 

But then again—Peli trusts him…

You exhale loudly, irritated by the sudden bout of silence, and shift to move from you chair, but he stops you with a question.  

“Why do you call yourself Skitter?” He says it softly, not meant to offend or demand your compliance. Whatever he picks apart, he does it with precise and patient skill—simultaneously seeking insight on who you are while granting that thin veil of anonymity. Simply wedging his foot into an already cracked door. 

Your eyes slip from the harsh lines of Mando’s helmet to the splotchy grease stains covering your knuckles. No matter how much you scrub or pick at them, the dirty smudges never seem to disappear—permanently ingrained into your skin like a gods awful tattoo. Doesn’t stop you from roughly rubbing the pad of your thumb over your index finger in hopes that it might just work this time. You sigh and curl your fingers into fists—no use. 

Lying to him crosses your mind—spin some absolute bantha shit story about how you won the Boonta Eve Classic and how you earned the name. Or maybe you could tell him you’re a part of a highly covert crime ring and speaking your name aloud will assure you a one way ticket to the grave within the hour. You’re not sure how well that one will fly, but hey—you’ve convinced a couple of morons here and there.    

However—Mando is no moron.  

He wouldn’t pry the truth out of you like a crooked incisor with rusty pliers—no. This is a game of trust. By extension on Peli’s behalf you’re reliable—one of the good guys that offers safe heaven for himself and the little green terror each time he lands that literal pile of scrap metal in hangar four—always hangar number four. 

 It still doesn’t negate the fact that Mando knows jack shit about you. Just a grouchy mechanic with bloody knuckles and a mouth sharper than a bowl of tacks. This is him offering an olive branch of his personal trust. By choosing to lie you would be severing the rare reveal of a kind heart with a vibroblade dipped in venom. You don’t know what he thinks he’ll find or what’s to gain from you revealing a bare thread of yourself but—  

Whether it’s the blend of spiced rum and fire whiskey that helps loosen your tongue into speaking, or just the simple fact that you actually kinda…enjoy Mando’s company—you tell him.  

“Peli—“ You begin, your lips quirking at Mando’s unsurprised huff upon hearing your aunt’s name. “I was, like, a little kid when I went to live with her—four or five maybe?” 

You spare a quick glance at Mando. His vambraces chink against the edge of his cuirass as he leans back in his seat. He laces his fingers together and rests his hands just above where his codpiece should be; and as you draw a breath he tilts his head ever so slightly to the right, exposing more of the metallic earpiece to better hear you. 

He’s being polite—

You blink and drop your eyes back down to the empty glass you fiddle with. You never dwell or find it in your to care about what others think of you—too much energy wasted on perceptions that you’ll never be privy to. Say what you mean and repercussions be damned. So why is it that your heart begins to flutter like a distressed creature in the clumsy palms of a curious toddler? 

A wildfire blush races up your neck and burns hotter than a miniature sun in your cheeks. You swallow and reach up to toy with the loose baby hairs that curl next to your ear. “Y-you ever, um, see a sand skitter before?”

Mando shakes his head.

“They kinda look like slugs,” you say, separating your forefinger and thumb to show Mando a guesstimate of their size. “Fast little fuckers though—they like to hang out around Jabba’s Palace. B-but anyway—“ 

You clear your throat and continue. “Peli always said I looked like them back then—squishy and small. It didn’t help that I ran around around like a wild waste creature either—got into more trouble than you can even imagine.”

Mando’s amused huff crackles out of the vocoder. “I think I can.”

Another blush heats your cheeks. It’s the damn alcohol—it must be. You should tell him to fuck off—take his metal, bucket-head looking ass straight back to Tatooine and leave you alone. What makes him any different from all the other people you’ve batted away? You don’t  know—you don’t know—

Instead of all the things you should say, you wrench off another branch of yourself and gladly put it into his outstretched palm.   

“I..uh—I don’t think I’ve used my name—my actual name in years,” you confess quietly. The admittance is a strange one—makes the back of your throat tighten while plucking at tender heartstrings you didn’t know existed. “Even in the Rebellion I was just…Skitter.”

In the Rebellion everyone has a number, a nickname, a call-sign—no one cared who you were because when they risked doing so they opened themselves up to pain. It’s easier to be nameless—keeps you focused on the task at hand. 

But it’s over now—it’s done.   

He lets the silence settle and you know what he’s going to ask. You see it in the way his armored shoulders raise to take a breath and the crackling curiosity that practically sparks off the metal. Nonetheless, it’s still like getting shot pointblank in the chest the second he asks.   

“Will you tell me?” 

Such a simple question shouldn’t scare you. Pure and simple fear that better belongs on a feral fyrnock backed into a corner with only it’s sharp teeth to protect itself. Joining the Rebellion should have scared you—hoisting yourself into that worn cockpit every day with the promise of death and gut wrenching adrenaline should have terrified you. The crash on Endor that left a scar over your left brow and broke seven ribs is far more daunting than someone asking you for your name.           

“I’m willing to trade.”

You’re clever enough to realize that this is his way of assuring you that trust is a two way street. He knows the importance of a name better than anyone else—how these sorts of things aren’t meant to be traded—but both of you are making exceptions tonight, even if it’s dangerous. 

You’re both playing with matchsticks around a barrel of coaxium, one slip of a finger and you’d both go up into volatile flames that will rattle the very seams of the galaxy. Mando is showing you how willing he is to offer a piece of himself at your feet—so long as you do the same. 

You sigh and close your eyes. “O-ok…yeah—yeah.”     

As you lean to the side he folds at the waist to meet you. You take another inhale—the last breath before plunging into an ice cold sea—and maybe…maybe it’s not as scary as you once thought. 

The chapped swell of your lips brush along the frigid beskar as the syllables of your name bubble past your teeth. It tastes foreign and odd in your mouth, like cotton or the creaky hinges on a rotting window pane. 

You like it better when he says it.  

The slow drawl of your name repeated back to you is the first breath of spring in the unending winter within your chest. There’s always been a slowness, a stillness in the delicate redwood needles of your bones that glitter with a thick layer of frost. No clever fox or brightly plumed bird resides here—no whispering, pushing wind that dances with the slow creak of ancient tree trunks. Here there’s only overgrown, dark rooted trees and bone white snow—something mistaken for being alive.

Skitter is the name of a girl who drowns in the acrid smoke that bellows from her lungs and disastrous flames that spill from the gaps in her ribcage. It outmatches nebular implosions, leaving behind entrails of embers that burst and flake off from her skin like brittle wood thrown into a funeral pyre. Even the sharp curve of a rabid smile shows something of that all-consuming hunger—something never meant to survive for long. No life has ever made its way into her bones, but the flames that transform blood into ash and anger shine in her eyes.

Your name—the one that sun speckled light touches and spreads inside of your lungs, urging Mando to whisper in quiet tones meant only for your ears. It promises that this is only the beginning—that there is gentle starlight instead of war smoke and here there is something beautiful waiting for you. Someday the heavy snow that buries your body under its weight will melt and give way to the delicate bloom of ferns and creeping lichen. Hope crackles in your blistered palms, transforming into the wings of a sparrow and the very same warmth that you dream of holding.   

Goosebumps rush down your spine and every inch of skin as Mando repeats your name a third time—speaking it as if it’s a prayer to some long lost deity wearing a circlet of stars and a mouth made of rose petals. But it’s only you. You who sits in the back corner of a shitty cantina, dressed in neon light while you and a Mandalorian whisper secrets that are long since forgotten to the world into each other’s ears.   

But the slow grace of become gentle is a long one, and there’s much to learn. “You call me that in public and I’ll strap your tongue to a belt sander and set it on high.”

Mando chuckles at your empty threat and leans more of the broadness of his shoulders into your space. “My turn.”

The icy cold beskar touches parts of your ear and jaw, his even breathing amplified by the static crackle of vocoder. This close, you can feel the helmet buzz over your skin. 

“Din.”    

It suits him—sweet and simple. 

And like he knows you’re itching to shy away from the chilling unfamiliarity of bearing your heart, Din leans closer. You’re not trapped, but he’s forcing your hand to either flee like you’ve always done or confront him. 

You stay.      

He moves his hand glacially slow so as not to startle you, granting you an opportunity to slip free, but you hold steady. The padded leather covering his thumb touches the side of your chin, and out of habit you flinch. The weight of his thumb immediately retracts, but with a mumbled apology and a weak smile of encouragement, he returns. 

Mando—Din—cradles your chin between his forefinger and thumb and traces a light back and forth pattern, the worn leather soft against your skin. Desire bubbles in your chest like heartburn, and all you know right in that second is you need more of him—hungry for any scrap he offers. You lift your hand and curl your fingers over the top of his knuckles and with a little tug, you coax Din’s open palm over your cheek.

Staring into that endless black visor, your eyes flutter shut as you lean into his hand. Vulnerability tastes strange on the tongue—still have to wrestle back the urge to snap and chase him away. You’d be content staying like this all night but… 

Tonight is not the night for it apparently—

Fuck—

All those drinks hit you with a gut wrenching wave of dizziness worse than clipping a short corner in the Diablo Cut—same kinda feeling you get after pigging out on starcherry pies and then taking a high-stakes joyride on your dad’s spiffed out speeder. 

You squeeze your eyes until you see little bursts of light and suck in a deep breath, beating back the nausea with sheer willpower and the very present dread of puking all over Mando’s chest plate. What a fucking spectacle that would be.  

You cringe and slump from his palm and into the dark fabric of his cowl, the sharp smell of ozone and something woodsy a pleasant surprise to your senses. Maker—you could stay here all night, breathing him in. You’re lucky he’s wearing his helmet—you fucking stink.You’ve been marinating in the acrid stench of cheap spirits and cigarette smoke for hours and you know it’ll take days to scrub it off your skin and clothes like shitty perfume or spilled jet fuel.  

“Are you taking a nap?” Mando accuses—the lip of his helmet knocking against your ear as he tries to confirm his suspicion.

“No,” you grumble, “‘m smelling you.”

“What?” Din’s shoulder jump with a unbelieving snort. 

You huff and bury your nose deeper into the swath of fabric. “You smell good. Like—like one of those…those candles.”

You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh. “I think it’s time to go home.”

“So you are here for me,” you scoff, raising your head to shoot him a weak glare. “How’d Peli convince you?”

“Offered to take it out of your pay.” 

“Damn, that shit sucks.” You retort, lifting yourself from the stiff beskar to rub at your tired eyes. “Lemme—lemme guess—“ you hiccup and point an accusing finger. “That piece of junk ship got fuckin’ trashed and—and you expect me to fix it.” 

Din cocks his head to the side, shrugs and moves out of his seat, offering you a hand. You shoo it away with a feeble glare and help yourself up, albeit a bit wobbly.

“You have talented hands.” He purrs next to your ear as you attempt to stomp past him. “I’m sure you can manage.” 

“Yeah—“ You sniff, each step a blurry stumble towards the exit. “You bet I fucking do.”

His soft laugh whispers behind you—

You hate how much you like it. 

Din ushers you onto the very ship you vowed never to take a ride in, solely due to the fact that this thing has been trashed more times than you can count. You cringe just thinking about the innards of the Crest you so begrudgingly fixed—probably all fried to hell and busted up again—     

Surprisingly, the ship flies fine. Suspiciously smooth sailing, enough that you even manage to doze off in your chair. Until you’re so rudely awakened.    

It’s a little tickle on the side of your temple—like a stray hair pushed out of place by a breeze. Half lucid, you grumble and furrow your brows at the sensation, hoping it’ll piss off and leave you be—

The bluntness of calloused fingertips caress over the ridge of your brow, then sweep to the shell of your ear, thumbing at a lock of hair in muted wonder. The same kind of fascination you’d see on someone who’s never felt the texture of another’s hair because of the heavy gloves they wear like a second skin. You crack an eye open, confirming the culprit just as his bare hand dances over your cheek and skins along your jaw. 

Din’s hand freezes, hovering in midair the moment your sleepy eyes catch over his visor. You roll your lip between your teeth, attempting to solely focus on his helmet instead of the brown, sun-kissed hand inches from your face. You’re not sure what’s considered rude or blasphemous in Mando culture, but airing on the side of caution with things like this is best. 

“You snore.”

You blink. “What?”

“I said you snore in your sleep.”  

Din spins on his heel faster than you can process and exits the cockpit. Huh. 

Alrighty then. 

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stand and follow after him. You squint as the loading ramp is lowered, the change in lighting creating a dull ache behind your eyes. Mando hovers at the end of it, patiently waiting for your sleepy self to join him. He’s docked just on the outskirts of town you note—he’s not staying for long. You were just a detour.      

You sigh, face souring as the first rays of sunlight whisper across the glittery yellow smudge of the horizon. Sand scrapes your cheeks and tickles the inside of your nostrils as a gust of torrid air sweeps down from the nearby bluffs, promising another scorching day that’ll make the skin on your nose peel and flake off. Absolutely putrid. “I fucking hate this town.”

Mando makes no comment on his end, just rests his palm over your lower back and guides you forward. This shouldn’t be miserable— 

He isn’t marching you off to your death or anything—just an end of a chapter you didn’t intend on closing so soon.

 Isn’t it funny when you’ve got an entire speech’s worth to say and yet all of it decides to stay stuck on the roof of your mouth? But that’s the problem—you’d have no idea what to say—just an endless turmoil of emotions you aren’t able to pin down and decipher. You’re not even sure if you want to anyway—

All too soon you’re reaching the blast doors that lead into the space port. Din stays outside when you offer to go get his kid from Peli’s care. He’s bundled up in a spare blanket, tucked against Peli’s side—both asleep. Without waking your aunt, you slide him into your arms and make your way back to Mando. The baby whines and cracks his large eyes open. 

“Hello, Creature,” you greet, sweeping a thumb over his large ear. “Dad’s here to pick you up.”

His eyes slide back shut, nuzzling deeper into the swaths of blanket as you hand him back to Din. The Mandalorian happily accepts the little creature and tucks him against his side. Cute.    

“How long are you staying?” You’re cracking open another door for him, letting the soft glow of an imaginary future spill past your fingertips even though you know it’s far fetched. He shuts it with a gentle sigh and a weak shake of the head. 

“We’re leaving today. It’s not safe for us here.” 

Your brows furrow. “You’re being followed?”

The way his shoulders stiffen tell you that it’s a long story. That it runs deeper than just a mere skirmish and bad blood. You don’t like his answer when he tells you the short version of things. Don’t like the way your whole body seizes and doused in a vat of ice water.  

“That’s…no. That’s not—the Empire was destroyed.” Your breaths turn sharp like frayed lungs hacked at the stem and the cold dread of a returned horror. That part of you, the one that fought tooth and nail for the galaxy perished in the flames of war alongside every friend and ally you’ve lost. To say that something you played a part in ripping to shreds for good, is back—it’s digging up ghosts and dusty skeletons you’ve buried long ago. “Din—the Empire is gone."  

“Not all of it. They’re after the kid.” The baby, now awake, squeaks and looks up at Din, his little fingers wrapping around his thumb. “If I stayed any longer I’ll be putting you both at risk.”  

You wrap your arms around yourself and study the tips of your boots. “You’ll be gone for awhile then.”

You lift your head and study the sharp lines of his helmet and the dark strip of visor. His silence carves out the fragile hope cradled in your chest with a rusty knife—throws it at your feet with bloody uncertainty. He chooses silence over hollow promises—could be years or three weeks the next time you see him. Or never.   

“Take care, Skitter.”

“Yeah…se ya around, Mando.”  

You watch him leave, the beskar glittering in the early morning sun until he disappears from view.   

You should’ve asked him to take you with.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you

[stinkrascal]

there was that time a few weeks ago where everyone on my dashboard was reblogging posts that were like “maybe you’d have some friends if you weren’t so fucking mean. the reason you don’t have any friends is because you’re just an asshole” and like yea to an extent i believe that is something that can happen but i think it’s really reductionist to claim that’s the only reason people don’t have friends in the year 2022 two years after a global pandemic forced millions of people inside lest they risk the safety of their health is because theyre mean, and this isnt even taking into consideration that disabled/chronically ill people who are homebound existed before covid did. the internet has made theoretically connecting with others and with communities a lot easier but with that its also killed our offline communities, nobody just goes outside and talks to their neighbors anymore, i mean i sure as hell dont, do any of you? most people in america live paycheck to paycheck, so they cant afford to go out to places where theyd meet new people and even if they could, most of them are working so many hours that they dont have the energy to go somewhere after work, and that limits their viable pool of friendships to their coworkers, who are stuck in the same position as they are. im not saying that post is wrong or even indicative of anything more important than, like, what op was feeling at the time that they wrote it, im just saying in a broader sense theres more to why our generation of people is as lonely as it is, so it just kinda annoys me to see the idea reinforced that it is your fault alone if you are friendless whenever there are so many systemic things working against your pursuit to have and maintain quality friendships. what i am trying to say is that capitalism ruins everything

#this isnt even really about me. im honestly friendless because i am mean #and my attachment issues are horrible. even if i treat my friends kindly i still end up ghosting after a few years #because the idea of people knowing me makes me want to vomit lol #but you know i am an outlier. generally speaking i think there are many reasons why people today dont have friends #it is a real epidemic to see so many lonely people desperate for human connection. it honestly makes me really sad to imagine #i jsut realized i wrote 2023 instead of 2022 it isnt even 2023 my brain has melted

[selamat-linting]

living after experiencing sa is so weird like, the same piece of writing about assault could do nothing or it could send me into a week long spiral and its just a matter of dumb luck or pure chance that determines my brains' reaction to it. i've had moments where im legitimately triggered in the middle of re-reading something i actually enjoy as porn. over the years i figured it was because i had small triggers that are abstract or wasnt easily noticeable or doesnt feel like anything until its in the spesific context of sa. like being trapped in an enclosed space with strangers, begging to be sent home, being deceived, having your preferences and interests weaponized against you, the really lonely and painful walk home afterwards where no one comes to save you but maybe its better off this way since you dont want to be seen, those are things im particularly sensitive with. for example, a few years ago i got really messed up about this anecdote of a kid who got kidnapped by a neighbor for a few hours. he offered to see his cat and then lock them up in a room while theyre playing with said kittens. nothing actually happens but that made me legit depressed for a few days. while im fine talking with my friend about an incident where she got followed by a creepy guy who groped her while she's walking home. both situations are horrifying and bad ofc, but i cant exactly communicate or find an easy way to filter out the bad. like, i can handle hearing the graphic details, the bare bones account of what happens, but if it touches on how the victim was tricked or deceived or gets taken advantage of, even when its basically the least upsetting part, i just couldnt do it.

idk, maybe its because my experience was more in the mental stuff. yeah sure, it was only some groping, an almost kiss, and some sex talk. but the context was that i asked for help, someone friendly comes along, they say theyre just helping me but turns out they actually have ulterior motives. i was stuck in a car for hours to god knows where, fully knowing i was gonna get raped when the car eventually stops, trying to plead or at least delay it with someone i thought was a friend without being too harsh because i know they could do even worse things if i drop this thin veneer of friendliness we got going on. and all the while this asshole kept touching me in spots i didnt even realize was a sensitive place for me and i had to keep a straight face the whole time because if they see a hint that i liked it, its over. did i like though? yeah. do i want it? fuck no. never in a million years. and i felt betrayed because im supposed to have that moment of discovery with a boyfriend or a girlfriend and it was supposed to be nice and comforting but its not. and i might associate gentle touches with this forever. and there's also a part of me that said, hey somebody wants me. dont you want to be wanted? i might as well enjoy it because no one's gonna offer me hot car sex like this. i should try to get myself wet! this is a new experience that i should just see the bright side of. im supposed to be a kinky slut right? i just turned 20. and after all, i promised myself, after the first time i had my sa as a kid, the next time it happens im gonna fight. and what am i doing right now? i'm just running my mouth. im laughing at my soon to be rapists' joke and i tell him we should meet up later instead of doing everything right now since i had work later in the day. this isnt fighting, its bargaining. and all the while im wondering if i look pretty while im doing this. i hope i look pretty. im just wearing sweatshirt and pajama pants. this is sick, why do i want to look good while im sexually assaulted?

i never told this to anyone except a friend. but even she didnt get the whole account. she just know it happens. its the part that actually upsets me that i didnt tell her. the whole violated trust thing. and how dumb i am for instantly accepting help from an acquaintance i dont even know that well. and what happens after the car stops. all she knows is that when it stops, i pushed him off of me and i left the car and run.

to her it just seems like im valiantly fighting off an asshole. she didnt know that after i ran, a bunch of men saw me running. they asked me if i need help. they were kind. but i thought of the hassle of reporting to the police, being grilled with questions, have my entire behavior scrutinized, and my parents vacillating between unhelpful anger or chastising me for being so trusting and eventually isolating me because i cant be trusted to exist in a public space without being harassed and god i dont want to miss work today and theyre gonna ask why if i had to miss a day and theyre gonna know too. so obviously i shut up. i couldnt say anything. the fuck who assaulted me came, and get this, i went back to his car. i didnt sit next to him, i was sitting at the backseat, and he was angry and yelled at me the entire time while driving me back to the closest bus station. i didnt say anything, and i actually paid him money before leaving. i was a coward.

in hindsight, what happens after the next few month after that was just me trying to compensate for the shame and utter incompetence i felt. i thought i was good at being confrontational and assertive, but when it actually matters, i cant speak. it was awful. i mean, it was a moment of self improvement, i did evolve from being an awkward self-important debate kid to an adult who relies on being good with persuading people for a living. im proud of that. but the feeling of helplessness still remains. im still afraid that when it happens again, i'd just clam up like usual. even though i already successfully fend off several people trying to fuck with me before anything that bad ever happens because im a hot saleswoman now. it felt weird calling myself a victim or a survivor because, it just happens. i didnt survive shit nor do i want to be a victim. i dont want to be pitied. and i dont want to be called brave or anything because im anything but.

except that everytime something reminds me of my sa incident, i kept having this urge to tell somebody, and i'd wrote a long paragraph detailing everything that happened including all of the uncomfortable details that didnt make me look good as a victim. and then i'd delete it before sending because its not good to tell your personal triggers online right? but i have no one i want to talk about this irl. and i cant imagine any well-meaning response that doesnt make me angry. i kept thinking about it. if anyone acknowledged this happens to me, i have no socially acceptable response. im not sure if anyone could understand or be sympathetic. i mean, imagine someone told you a grave secret about them and then they get angry and throw a tantrum when you say youre keeping their secret to the grave. youre in the right to be angry and confused at them. and its one thing to write a retrospective like this, and its another thing talk about it directly. i wouldnt be self aware to control myself. i'd just ruin another friendship because i got pissed off for no discernable reason.

i dont really know where im going with this. i think i just wanted to get this out of my system. its been what? three years? im sick of keeping that shit in. i think i just need to talk about it, sort of like a confessional before moving on for good. anyway, your usual shitposting will resume shortly. bye bitch!

#sa cw #this is about my personal experience with it #and something about abstract triggers

[taylorthegiant]

its like. a lot of the reasons i havent made as much progress on my transition as i would like to have done by now is because this is something that i need help with. i need support! and i asked for it from my family because i have no local friends and especially no local lgbt friends who might actually have recommendations on where to go to get treatment. and that ask for help (which was VERY difficult for me to do in the first place because i have the reputation of not being difficult and raising myself in my family) and i was met with two weeks of silence from my parents followed by a conversation i basically had to force them to have where they concluded that the only reason i had said i was trans was because i been brainwashed by tumblr (even though throughout puberty i went back and forth between display non gender normative behavior and overcompensating femininity in order to avoid rejection by my peers and family). and then met with “you should wait until after youre twenty five before you do anything” by my sister. so complete rejection from my parents and an indication that she thinks its a phase from my sister

and its like i hadnt been this hurt by my family since my dad told me i was possessed by a demon when i was having a panic attack! something he never apologized for doing until i dragged that out of him during the same conversation he told me i was brainwashed in!

and its like leading up to that we’ve got being ousted from my seven year long friend group when i was twelve (at a school where my grade size hadnt been more than twenty people since i was five). not being able to handle interacting with my neighbor friends after their dad died (that one is on me but it added to the isolation). the guy i considered my best friend saying he only saw me as entertainment (which was my role in the seven year long friend group so i dropped him to protect myself) which happened the same year i had my first serious relationship that ended in a not so nice way. then being called possessed by a demon by my dad. then finally making some new local friends via the internet but they ended up moving several states away (im not blaming them it was definitely something they needed to do to improve their lives it just. sucked from my perspective). getting my masculinity blamed for a fuck up instead of my general relationship inexperience (adding to the general feeling of my identity not being welcome in the circles i was in leading to more isolation)

and its like yeah ive been doing better at having online friends and im so grateful for every one of you but it really isnt the same as having a local network of support. i wish that it was and that it was able to fulfill those needs because i do love y’all dearly and care about you but god i need some people to hang out with that arent related to me so i don’t have to keep being in this house. and i had finally built up the confidence and determination to do so but my timing fucking sucked because it was in february 2020 and well. the fucking pandemic happened and now i don’t have a car that can do more than a sixty mile round trip and thats pushing it because i had to give my dad my car so he could go to work because his busted and my parents couldnt afford a car payment and ive been stuck with my brother’s shitty electric car which adds to the feeling or being trapped and isolated 💔

and like i was finally able to visit my closest distance online friend and i immediately tested positive for covid when i came back and its like great. negative reinforcement

#im rattling the bars of my cage it fucking sucks in here

[captain-needs-threopy]

Greetings and salutations my names aja but my friends call me captain I thought ide expand my horny storys to here so more can enjoy my late night random ideas this is a Neil newbon story and im praying he never sees this.

This story is called the Apartment. It's a Y/N with brain cells × Neil story. Lv 2 spice 🌶.

Happy reading :)

I pulling into the parking lot of my apartment complex pulling right besides my neighbors car Neil Newbon, yes that Neil I don't know how but I managed to find an apartment right next to his anyway, I pushed the 3rd-floor elevator button, I look back at my phone to see the text he sent me. “Welcome back darling it’s room 103. He’s been a good boy and was given lots of love while you were gone, See you soon. “ The elevator dings and I step out looking on the left then to the right for room 103, Mines 110, 109, 106…. 103! here it is! room 103. I gently knock on the door only to hear a loud crash. “ just one moment please um… oh no…” A few seconds later Neil opens the door abruptly and out of breath. “ oh hello love I’m glad you found me alright. There is just erm a slight problem Astarion is stuck in a vase.” he says catching his breath and stepping back to let me in.

“I told you he was a troublemaker just like the person he was named after,”

I reply taking off my shoes at the door, he just flashes his killer smile and does his sweet little laugh, and says in Astarions voice “ oh darling I'm hurt I thought we had something special, he’s over here just by the couch.” Neil finishes his sentence normally, he leads the way while I follow just waiting to see what the cat has gotten himself into now.

“I’m sure he’s on his last life at this point. Thor knows what else he does when I’m not home. And I’m sorry Neil I didn’t know it was going to be 2 weeks but thank you so much for looking after him,” I say to him sitting down in front of the vase Astarion is stuck in on the floor. “It's no problem, it was nice to have him, he enjoys watching tv with me,” he says sitting with me on the floor getting ready to get the spawn of hell back home.

“First things first is this clay or glass. I ask, pointing to the blue and white vase. “ I think it’s glass. I don't know if it was a gift from blue. Meow! Astarion keeps voicing his opinion on what it is.

“Ok, let’s try this first let’s take his collar off you hold his head to one side and ill try to slip his shoulders out, okay,” “okay, let’s try,” he says a little skeptical on Astarion, and tilting his head after I took his red and black collar off. I gently start to pull and get one shoulder out but he starts to wiggle so I stop. “Okay, that’s one shoulder out now what,” Neil asks sitting cross-legged.

“Let’s let him breathe for a bit before we do anything else. You got yourself stuck huh I hope you’ve learned your lesson. I say to Astarion petting his back for some comfort.

“How did this happen anyway, Neil,” I ask looking up into his enchanting blue eyes there was something about his eyes I just couldn't get enough of. “When you texted me you landed and were out of the airport I picked him up and told him you were coming home his ears perked up so I said his mama was coming home again, he started walking all around to the windows and doors meowing I picked him back up to try to calm him down, I sat in the reclining chair to calm him down then when you knocked he bolted to the door over the table and then he ended up here.”

“Awe he missed me, I would have been back sooner but something just had to come up and I had to stay an extra week and a half,” I smile at Astarion petting his tail. “don’t worry I understand flying sucks as a passenger I can only imagine what that’s like for you,” he says with a smile and he places a comforting hand on my knee but it’s not covered anymore my skirt had risen passed my knees almost up to my thighs. “Oh um, sorry but um you’re skirt is…” Neil struggles to get out as he looks away. I quickly kneel back up and fix it the best I can.

“I’m so sorry they gave us these new red and black uniforms and the skirt is a little small on me I didn’t realize,” I said looking down at my hands. “Don’t apologize, darling, I should apologize I didn’t realize and I didn’t ask either”

“Mr. Newbon how many times do I have to say you don’t have to ask I trust you, let’s get him out of here so I can give him and me a well-needed bath I don’t want to invade your space for too long,” I say with a slight smile he can be so stubborn sometimes. I turn my focus back to the cat he does as instructed and after another 3 minutes of struggling we manage to get Asterion's head out of the vase.

“Thank you again, Neil, for watching him longer than we had planned when you have some free time I can repay you with a movie night?” I asked unsure if he’ll agree. “you don't have to repay me but a movie night nice expressly after all this, I'm free this Saturday.” he says giving me that same smile as he shifts his body weight onto his front door frame.

“Awesome! Meet me at my place around 4, it should be dark enough for a movie,” I respond with an excited wiggle and a huge smile on my face I turn to leave down the hallway still smiling. I look down at Astarion and I spin us around ballroom style before turning the hallway to my apartment. I hear a loud laugh and I blush he just saw that.

Tuesday comes and goes, Wednesday I take Astarion out for our daily walk and sit and watch virgin territory with Asterion. When the movie ends it's already dark so I decide to work on the painting on the back balcony for the rest of the day. Neil is doing a live stream I’m assuming Resident Evil with how much he's screaming. I can't help but laugh, I go to the stereo I keep out on the balcony, and hook up my phone to my painting playlist. It's just a dark victorian era playlist, Derek and Brandon Fiechter, peter grundy, and Robert Russell. I turn up the volume a little and focus on my canvas. After a good hour, I hear a click of a door, I assumed it was Astarion so turn away from my canvas in my paint-covered crop top I always wear while painting.

“Yes, baby boy I know I'm almost done, then we can eat dinner together,” I say in my baby voice I only use for Astarion setting down the paint and brushes I had in my hand, but when I looked at the cat door he usually pokes his head out of, he wasn't there?.

“Haha well I didn't think that could come out of you,” Neil says holding back another giggle, he was leaning on the railing facing me.

I gasp not expecting to hear his voice, “omg Neil I thought you were streaming.” “I was but I heard you're music and ended it a little early to see what progress you've made, I know you're painting every time I hear that music I also may or may not have gotten a peek at it a few weeks back.

“Oh, I'm sorry if it's a bother I paint when I'm stressed or just because, I didn't know you could hear it,” I say back leaning on the railing like he is. The wind softly blowing feels nice against my burning face, he's wearing his iconic pineapple tink top showing off his arms he's no Chris Hemsworth but he's got some definition. I walk back over to the painting, the wind slightly catching my shirt. I hear shuffling from behind me but I think nothing of it.

Well, I better get asterion his food but here's the painting sense you asked.

{{NOT MY ART CREDIT GO’S TO RAINBOW GLITCH - PINTREST}}

“wow that's even better than when I saw it,” he says in complete shock he gives a little round of applause.

“You don't have to praise it was just a little project I wanted to do but I do thank you for your support,” I say setting the Canvas on the table I’ll bring it inside when I leave. “Well your little project is beautiful and you're welcome but my support comes free of charge you're my friend after all.”

“Well I better go get asterion his dinner who knows maybe he'll get into another vase if I don't feed him on time” I let out a small giggle at my joke he returns the laugh and bids me goodnight

Saturday it's finally Saturday I wake up 30 min before I normally do I do some light cleaning, washing the dishes from the night before, I vacuum because somebody sheds a lot. Around noon I get ready, shaved what I need to wash my hair, and put on my softest pj’s which consisted of some questionably short shorts and an off-the-shoulder crop top it had white skulls with some roses on it. I grab all the extra soft blankets I had and set them all over the couch I set mine and Neil's favorite blankets aside. The only reason I know the pink unicorn blanket is his fav was I wore it on Halloween because maggie was a unicorn and we showed up to work like that. Exactly at 4, I hear a knock on the door.

“If it is the state police the body is not mine”

“ This is Gavin reed with the Detroit police open the fucking door so I can look for the deviant,” Neil says in Gavin's voice

“Well then you should come in detective reed we wanna keep the city safe” I'll go make some popcorn and go make yourself comfortable on the blanketed couch. I go fetch the extra butter lover's popcorn out of the {pantry/cupboard} and put it in the microwave as he goes and sits down.

* BEEP BEEP *

“popcorn is done!” I yell from the kitchen it was an open kitchen but I was facing away and I tent to talk quietly “ yes popcorn’s done what movie you wanna watch” he yells back as he grabs the unicorn blanket for himself. I bent down to look for the traditional popcorn bowl in the bottom portion of the {pantry/cupbord}

“God dame it where is that bowl.”

I huff still digging in the cupboard. “here let me help tell me what the bowl, looks, like.'' he pauses between the last few words as he enters the kitchen.

“Oh, wait here it is” I popped back up looking at him holding up the purple bowl with faded blue stripes. “ ah got a few movies picked out for us,” he says looking nervous?

What could he be nervous about? We've worked together before in some questionable situations.

I brush the thought away and grab the bowl filled to the brim with popcorn. “Maybe you need a new popcorn bowl if you're going to spill it my mouth is right here. He says laughing the last bit. I set the bowl between us but Neil snatches it for himself, I playfully roll my eyes and grab the remote looking at his selection my heart drops.

He picked out all SEXY MOVIES!!!! 50 shades darker, 365 days, and wild orchid with Mickey Rourke!

I was red as a tomato I could feel it and he was just sitting there waiting for me to pick calm and collected on the outside at least he kept shifting every so often. “ hey love are you alright?” he asks turning slightly to face me

“Yes yes, I'm good I just didn't think you would know wild orchid is one of my favorite Rourke movies,” I say trying my best not to stumble on my words. “ omg it's my fav too I haven't seen it in a while tho,” he says smiling, turning his attention to the TV. my face was still on fire and it wasn't going away any time soon I hit play on the movie.

I just agreed to the first movie I ever masturbated to and he's here too this is going to be a long movie.

I was already hot and bothered just because he was here and my dumb ass agreeing to watch this movie he would always ask every once and a while “hey love can ya pass me some popcorn” I said I didn’t want anymore so he set the bowl on the coffee table and rests his hand on my thigh. He is never this touchy-feely something in me clicks, Whenever he comes over to use the studio I noticed he would suddenly touch my arm or hug me longer than he normally would. I would even catch him staring

I am so down bad for this man and this movie isn't helping my legs were already twitching with want just any sort of release to stop this before it gets out of hand.

Neil is staring at the tv and I look at him watching how concentrated he is, how every so often he’d bite his lip because he was so focused on the movie. I snap myself out of it before I stare too long, I cross my legs tighter trying to stop the rising ache in between them. All I could think about was him on the business trip, as much as I tried to deny it I loved the way he smiled made it never failed to make my heart melt, the adorable way he laughed, or when he would talk about his work his eyes would almost sparkle and talk with his hands. Especially the way his voice would dip down sometimes, just the way he would say certain words even. I know he’s my neighbor and all but I just can’t get him out of my head, the throb only got worse as the first real sex scene came on “ hey are you feeling okay you’re pretty red in the face.” he asks with concern in his voice.

“Oh ya I’m okay it’s just the blankets I guess they made me a little worm plus I find this stuff gross it doesn’t even look realistic, “I say gesturing to the TV “realistic huh? And what does realistic look or sound like to you love?” he says with a wicked smile the question its self catches me off guard a little.

“omg no we are not having this conversation, Neil!! you've watched porn when you were a boy and you've had a kid for Thor's sake,” I say getting more and more flushed I cross my legs again, but he puts his hand on my thigh stopping me before I can close them all the way. I turn the question around to him “what do you think it looks or sounds like huh?” he just laughs and leans in to whisper in my ear “why don't I show you” I’m speechless and I just melt into him as he pulls me into his lap. I’ve denied myself for so long. All those restless nights where all I could do is think of him. “come on, you thought I couldn’t hear you touching yourself to the thought of me when we all stayed in that hotel for the shooting of extinction, how you…” he digs his fingers into my inner thigh not enough to cause pain.“screamed my name when you came” he continued as he moved his hands to rest at my hips. I couldn’t help but shiver at his words, turning my head away from him. “No no eyes on me Darlin, don’t be embarrassed, let me take care of you, let me make you feel good,” he says leaning down to rest his head on mine I gently shake my head, yes and that's all he needs to leave a sloppy trail of kisses down my chest.

I reach for his belt I'm not holding myself back I fully give into him. I succeed in undoing the buckle. Once he’s done leaving a hickey now and again he leans back up to my ear in a sexy deep voice“ I’ve touched myself to you as well ever since hearing you moan my name not being able to touch you has driven me crazy”. We lock eyes again, his pupils are dilated and, so lust-filled.

he pulls me into him more, I felt his cock twitch under me “ Please I need you I’ve had feelings for you for so long and on this most recent trip, and you showing me Astarions romance scenes, “god love I feel the same way.” Neil looks at me up and down. “My god you look gorgeous but you’d look so much better and under me,” Neil says in a surprisingly deep voice he pulls me back onto his lap, running his hands up and down my legs then my sides, and back.

Please, Neil, I don’t think I can take much more

I pant out just his touch is so intoxicating. I hang my head down getting lost in his touch. “darling eyes up here I want to see those eyes of yours as you feel me for the first time,” he whispers closing the gap between us, reaching behind me to unclasp my bra but he pauses.

“May I?” he stares deep into my eyes waiting for my permission. I didn’t trust my voice so I simply nodded. “ No be a good girl and use your voice,” Neil says using his finger to lift my chin to look him in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. He snakes his hands back around to unclip my bra. Once it falls to the floor Neil lets his eyes glide down my body. I can see his breath hitch, my body is fully revealed to him. he slowly approaches eyes hungry I can tell he's trying his best to hold back, He lets out an animalistic growl as he swiftly picks me up by my hips and sets me on the edge of the couch. “Please darling let me taste you let me make you feel good,” he says placing his hands on my knees, I’m a blushing mess just seeing him in between my legs like that. “Don’t be embarrassed love open up for me, I promise to make you feel good” Neil says gently strokes my legs waiting for my premonition I slowly open my legs feeling the cold air make me shiver. “Darling you're soaked you did this all for me oh love you shouldn't have,” Neil says in a hushed deep voice inching closer and closer while looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes of his. “ darling I'm going to taste you and you're going to feel pleasure like you've never known.“I couldn't help but whimper at his filthy words it only made me want him more

holy fuck! I yelp out as he got right to work wasting no time attacking my clit, running his tongue up and down lapping up everything he created. I instantly tensed up the intense pleasure of this alone, Neil would stroke my thigh every once and a while never letting up, he would nip at my clit sending more waves of pleasure through my body. I couldn’t stop moaning I try to pull away from his assault.

Neil growls into me sending the vibration to my core, his eyes burning into mine, His mouth lets go with a loud pop, “ you, my darling aren’t going anywhere” he says leaning back slightly. He hooks his arms over my legs locking me in place, “I’m going to eat this heavily cunt of yours then you’re going to ride me, and I will see that beautiful face cum all over me”. I was close already, the knot burning in my stomach, I feel my walls clench at his dirty words. He goes back to eating me out a little lighter this time but just as rough. Still nipping at my clit wanting, needing release. My hips buck up against his arms, Neil growls and pushes down stilling my actions.

Moans and wet sounds are all that can be heard the knot in my stomach tightens ready to snap “Fuck fuck Neil I’m going to cum” I squeeze a fist full of his hair and throw my head back. He starts his ruthless pace back up, slowly pushing 2 fingers in me curling them against that sweet spot. I scream out arching my back

I’m going to cum don’t stop please don’t stop. Neil thrusts his fingers in and out, he locks eyes with me and I feel the knot snap it's unlike anything I’ve felt my legs are shaking, and my mouth hangs open in pure ecstasy. Neil sits back with a satisfied smile on his face, he pumps his fingers to ride out my orgasm. “You did so good darling” He whispers coming up to kiss me, I can taste myself on his tongue. he gently caresses my hips pulling me up to him deepening the kiss as he does so. “ now like I promised you're going to ride me, surely you didn’t think my fingers alone is enough” and with that, he flipped us over so I was straddling his waist. I shift down onto the floor settling down into my knees slowly running my hands up his legs to the band on his boxers. His cock twitches as I start to pull down the fabric, his dick springs free.

take his cock in my hand guiding me onto him. We both let out a moan as I settle down. His hips thrust up into me, I feel so full my eyes flutter shut he was big.

I waste no more time and start to rock my hips back and forth. Neil’s head falls back, and his grip on my hips tightens. I can’t help but moan out in pleasure it’s so much more than I could ever imagine I start to move up and down but the pleasure is too much already my knees are weak already, and I can’t keep a good rhythm or pace.

Neil lets out a light moan his breathing is heavy as he guides my hips up and down faster. I place my hands on his shoulders “my darling you feel so fucking good“ he continues guiding my hips up and down. He bucks his hips up hitting deep inside, my legs go weak I can barely hold myself up. I lay my head on his shoulder lost in pleasure. “No no love look at me, I want you to look at me as I fuck you like you’ve dreamed about.” Neil all but growls in my ear, he stills my actions and thrusts up into me hitting that sweet spot. I let out a loud moan falling into my knees on either side of him. He pulls me forward so I’m fully laying on him. He shifts his hips, I let my mouth hang open and my eyes roll back, he wanted to make sure he stayed in and I could feel him. He does it again and I can’t help but let out a loud moan. It only seems to egg him on as he starts up a ruthless pace hitting every part of me. I’m a moaning mess as I feel the knot in my stomach tighten. His feverish pace never lets up.

Fuck Neil please I’m close my gods you feel amazing I manage to choke out through my moans and his.” no you don’t get to cum yet “ he slows down his speed but not the roughness of his thrusts.

“ fucking hell you feel

hold it darling just a little longer” he stops and flips us over so I’m under him and starts his pace again not as fast but just as rough. Still never to miss hitting that sweet spot that always draws out a moan. His hips start to falter and he picks up speed again. My moans turn into screams of pleasure, I leave nail marks down his back my legs start to shake, the knot in my stomach could snap any second. “and cum with me” he pants out as his thump comes to rub my cilt in harsh circles. Locking eyes with me. My mouth hangs open and my body shakes and shudders with pleasure, I throw my head back and cum all over his cock. He slowly rocks back and forth riding out both our orgasms.

I whine as Neil pulls out. “ you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that” with that he pulls me down onto the couch and we both fall asleep tangled in each other's arms.

And he even made me breakfast in the morning.

#neil newbon #fanfic #spicy content

[oceanfranki]

                     My Scarlett

 She was always there for me. Through thick and thin, Scarlett was my biggest support. She never gave up hope and always wanted the best for me. When my heart cancer got better I was convinced it was because of her optimism.

“Trust me, Marko you’ll get better, I know you will, I have a feeling you'll get better soon. We’ll get through this. Im right by your side.”

And I did in fact get better and she was in fact with me the whole way. I think she was happier than I was when hearing the news from the doctor, we celebrated for days and days. Families, friends, neighbors, and even some of my students and coworkers showed up to the celebratory party on my speedy recovery. I would've soon been able to be back at work teaching those little stuck-up teenagers, life would've been back to normal for me. Until it wasn't.

It was the morning after my fifty-seventh birthday that I started coughing up blood. Immediate trip to the hospital. That was when the tragic news was given to us for a second time, that my cancer was bad and I had limited time to live. By this time in my sickness, I had accepted the fact that I was going to die, I knew it would eventually happen. Scarlett took it the worst, second to my parents had they been alive to hear, it was the end of her world. I could tell how it was killing her and she seemed to be going mad, but of course, she would never want me to see that, but I was her husband of twenty years, I know. 

It was a rough road but it was my time to leave, I was overdue and ready to let go. I died. I am still dead and watching over her. 

You couldn't imagine how she took the news of my death. It actually almost killed her. That night, a full 12 hours since the news and passing of I, Marko DeAngelo, my lovely wife, unfortunately, suffered a stroke. It was a stroke of a broken heart, her world seemed to be over, and she felt as if she had no one. The devastation was too much. 

But, my Scarlett does not give up, does she? She picks herself up out of this depression and gets working. All day long she was keeping my memory alive. She worked with charity organizations in cancer and heart disease field. Her devotion and motivation helped her become the most knowledgeable person I’d ever known. She spoke one on one with many doctors and specialists in the field, enough for her to start and lead her own group. They raised money for research on the disease and went all over the country speaking to schools and hospitals. They were a huge success and made this world a better place, and still are currently. 

As a dead man watching over his wife, a ghost per se, you'd imagine how cold it can get, but every time I visit her I warm up inside, how incredibly proud of her I am. Dead or alive Scarlett has stuck by my side and will till the end of time. My Scarlett. 

#shortstory #writing

[creativebrainrot]

Open Journal Entry

long one. TLDR: This fucking house sucks and it's never felt like a home to me. I want out but the WAITING,,,,, its suffocating. we'll be out eventually. Im so sick of waiting though. I miss the. eight months, where I felt truly alive for the first time in my entire life. I want a car back. I want to move out. I want to leave all this misery and abuse behind us already. I want a life. I am going insane.

But the horrors wont fucking win because I am NOTHING if not fueled by spite and fury.

I wanna talk about my experience with this house I'm currently stuck in, and have been stuck in for 22 years now.

I do not have a single memory of feeling safe within this house, or a single memory of enjoying this house. I have memories of enjoying the wilderness nearby, the front yard, the back yard, the creek way out back. But not the house.

I felt safe in the bath as a kid. I feel safe dissociating in the shower. I have spent ages avoiding being fully-lucid in this house. Numbing myself by diving into video games, the internet, consuming media like video essays about random shit, political commentary, let's plays, etc. Anything that I could hide in and avoid being aware of my situation with.

Music and art were big ones for escaping.

Everything about this house is falling apart.

I finally felt alive for the first time in my entire life in 2022. And yet. 2022 had the worst months of my entire life within it.

And now. I'm stuck. Waiting. Again. Just like I have been my entire fucking life. Stuck, in the middle of nowhere, without people my age, without places I enjoy seeing, without people who care in my offline personal life.

Waiting. For the day my dad can tell me we are finally free.

We had no idea that we had so much legal bullshit we needed to sort after my father died in late january this year. So, we've had to deal with all of it; the confusion, the legal shit, the pain, the helplessness, etc, as we discover every new fucking step we weren't told about and couldn't find the answer to. because we're both neurodivergent, and traumatized. that affects a lot of what we are able to do and what we aren't.

I'm fucking tired of announcing what should be good news, over and over and over, only to find that there's more fucking waiting on the other side. Hope, hurts. Right now everytime I start to hope I start to hurt so i've just been living in numbness since march this year.

The pump & water is fucked up, we have to work around it. We have running water, but we have to turn off the pump everytime we're done using it.

The AC is broken. It was replaced a few years ago and now it's the wrong type of AC for our house. It doesnt fucking work and our bedrooms are little ovens because of it. I have had to move my mattress into my studio, the only room with a window AC.

I have been stuck with a fucking twin bed since I was 15. Which, while technically a useable size for me, I cannot begin to unravel and to explain the kind of demoralizing and humiliating being stuck with the same fucked up "not a real bed or Adult Mattress" is for me.

Fucking bugs get inside ALL THE GODDAMN TIME.

We haven't been able to work doordash for MONTHS now and I miss that routine so goddamn much.

I finally had a real life for the first time ever in my entire life, and its gone. Because we were lied to. Kept in the dark. Didn't realize how bad our situation was, until it was too late.

The only reason we are okay, is because of kindness from my friends and kindness from our neighbors.

I just want this to be over now.

I have never felt happy in this house. My dad and I never have the energy to clean it. I barely have the energy to take care of myself. I used to work out and exercise, I used to feel so happy. We ate good food and I got to cook and have fun and feel normal for awhile.

then the car broke down.

This house has always felt either neutral or fucking miserable. I've watched so many beloved pets die in this house. I've only ever been abused in this house. I've felt so fucking depressed in this house.

It's not even in an area where I can escape to a friend's house, or walk to a park, or enjoy any amenities. Because it's in the middle of fucking nowhere, retirement neighborhoods for rich old white republicans who wouldn't fucking speak to us if they knew who we really were. It's only because my dad masks as a ditzy old white lady that they're so nice to him.

I hate it here. I've been suffocating here long enough. I can't handle another year.

I think it might break me.

Everytime I'm remotely fully lucid in this house, I feel like shit. I remember things that I want to forget. I've dreamed of moving out and having my own place since I was a child. I thought my life would be better when I was 19- to be kind to fate, it was. Much better when I was 19. But not the normal fulfilling life I wanted to have.

I want out because everything we are currently dealing with is residual abuse from my father's financial abuse of us.

I need to leave this place. There's so much fucking sorrow and pain here for me that I just want to forget and move on from. not to mention this state it's self is fucking miserable to live in.

And, we will be. It's just the waiting. The waiting hurts. But I'd rather keep waiting for a brighter tomorrow than do something I can't take back.

I want to see our pets happy and healthy again, in a house with furniture for them. Collars with their name tags and vet tags on them. All fluffy and talkative and cute again.

I want better healthcare access so that I can stop panicking about my dad's mortality- he's fine, but I am so scared I'll lose him to something avoidable before we have the stability to get checkups and such. I want the option available to fucking transition already. I need HRT. Life is so fucking miserable everyday that I can't start being myself finally.

I want a house that I actually like. A place that represents new opportunities and new memories and REAL TRUE FREEDOM, freedom from all this abuse, freedom from my miserable first quarter of life alive. Freedom from debt that was never our fucking fault. A place I can be lucid in, and maybe actually have energy in.

And we'll probably get it. It's just, the waiting.

The second person we are attempting to sell this piece of shit to, is someone who purchases and flips houses for a living. He's offered the same amount of money as our neighbor did.

I'm so fucking glad that the paperwork is all on my dad's side and that we even HAVE a house to sell in this current climate.

Because that means we might get to move into the house my dad thought we were going to have all those years ago. I can't begin to tell you how many lies our abuser told us.

#kinda rambley. was meant to have a point. my thoughts arent coherent though. #the horrors (residual effects of financial abuse) hate to see a bad bitch (me. my dad.) winning. (continuing despite it all.) #(through gritted teeth unimaginable fury in my voice) But I stay sillay :3 #rottingjournals #rotthoughts

[swampgallows]

samo

i really have to work on being nicer. “nicer” sounds dumb so in my mind it’s just less impulsive. theres no excuse, im just impulsive and react with my immediate response, which is terse and short because im just a churning tank of cortisol. since im stuck in my bedroom tumblr is really the only place i can actually vent without feeling bad about it  and half the time i delete the shit anyway because suffering is boredom and im sick of myself too. i dunno. ive been stuck in bed since 2017 and i dont even have a car right now—not that i had many places to go in the first place but i at least used to be able to go to my car sometimes to scream/cry/talk to myself without disturbing anyone. even when i was trying to work out in my room i kept getting bothered or ive been told im too loud when im djing, not because i use my speakers (i mix in my headphones) but because im “jumping too much”. our house is one story so its not like im being a stomping upstairs neighbor.

i do not ever get to be alone or be myself BY myself so tumblr is my ‘actual’ bedroom to me. so when people come onto my posts and say stupid fucking shit or when some garbage slips through my meticulously curated feed i just flip out. again, not an excuse, just relaying my shit behavior. i dont like being so fucking angry. im so constantly angry and frustrated and in pain and suffering and i just dont want my life to be this way, but even after a full year of a competent therapist i was still stuck with very few ways to “stretch my wings”. like htat was the conclusion we came to before my therapist retired. shit life syndrome i guess. i do not have the workings of a shitty life. i know it can be better. so it frustrates me insanely (literally) that i cannot seem to make it better. i have wanted my life to be so radically different for so long but in ways that i think are very irresponsible and will get me even more hurt because i am too naiive. all the little fingers i unfurl get stomped on. i get my spark snuffed so quickly. i just need a place where im allowed to exist and experiment and try things. any time i try to reach out somewhere im immediately shut down. it really hurts.

anyway im getting off topic. i just want to be nicer. i remember my friends who dont talk to me anymore saying “i know youre going through some stuff” and me replying “yeah but im always ‘going through it’. i want to be able to just live“. ive been “going through it” as long as i can remember. why do i have to struggle so much. why do i have to consistently be so angry and so unsatisfied. why am i always threatened and always unsafe. why is someone always out to get me. why am i ridiculed and shut down any time i try to participate? and then when i want to do something i feel like a tyrant or im “judgmental”  because of my “high standards”. why cant things just be good. why cant i just be satisfied. why is everything so fucking painful and shitty. why do i have to fight all the time

#blathering

[hyuckcherie]

.

#sighhhh #ive never felt so lonely #its not even because of the virus and staying inside? #like partly it is #but this was my life for years before #but seeing others saying about the things theyll do when theyre out #and the fact that i wont even have friends to see #and ill still be home for seven days a week #my claustrophobia is gettinf bad #the only person i talk to really is cara #i dont have friends irl anymore #i feel so stuck and closed in its so scary #even if every now and then i get a relief it still comes back #im stuck with no neighbors or friends or places to go #and thats my normal life #idk how ive managed to live through this for the past six years #its really hard #;tbd

[bratkook]

right now. (m) jjk.

not yet, almost , right now

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, smut, idiots to lovers!! word count. 14.8k warnings. two mega fucking idiots<33, miscommunication/dumb assumptions, smut in forms of: fingering, oral sex (f.), orgasm denial, spanking, some spit bc duh, unprotected sex, super sweet & lovey!! also jungkook is a sweetheart pls love him summary. coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before jungkook decides its time to move on? note. did jlin forget how to write for a few weeks? yes, yes she did....i know this took a long time but life is rough man so forgive me... but anyways lol the final part to the not yet!verse is hereeeee! thank you to @kithtaehyung​ for reading this over for me ily!! thank you guys for enjoying this mini series, the response was really unexpected but im sososo happy over every comment/ask i’ve gotten for this story. once again, tysm for your love and let me know what you think<3

The evening sun illuminates Jungkook’s apartment, golden hour bouncing off every reflective surface and straight into his eyes the second he walks in, immediately squinting as he makes a beeline to shut the blinds. His head was already throbbing from the hangover that decided to peak around noon, a mean case of nausea putting a damper on his work day. So as much as he loved soaking in some vitamin D today was not the day. 

“Are you joking?” he huffs as he brings down the blinds, hand yanking at the flimsy string in an attempt to get it unstuck. “How stup—you’d think with the amount I pay every month in rent the blinds would work!” 

Alright, so maybe he was a little grumpy today, choosing to take it out on an inanimate object and blame it purely on the bad decisions made last night—definitely had nothing to do with the residual moping of you going on a date. This could be fixed, easily. 

The first order of business? Texting you to see if you’d be interested in devouring greasy food from your favorite place down the street. He’d get to see you and finally put something in his stomach, it’s the best of both worlds really. 

Jungkook forgets about the blinds, leaving them stuck in the awkward position as he walks away entirely, fishing his phone out of his pocket while he enters his room. It’s the same text he always sends when he’s hangry: If I don’t get food in the next 15 mins I'm burning this place down and taking you with me. 

He knows the response he’ll get, either that meme of the child in front of a burning house or an equally hangry paragraph. The phone gets tossed onto his bed as he changes out of his work clothes, needing to dispose of the business casual attire that was suffocating him, his old college hoodie giving him the comfort he needs. 

By the time he’s finally slipping on his sneakers he’s expecting you to come knocking on his door, your impatient attitude always putting a smile on his face. Half of the time your neighbors thought you were having arguments from the way you’d pound onto the slab of wood, saying his name with just enough annoyance laced into each syllable it would fool anyone into thinking you were actually upset instead of being a brat. But when that never comes, he reaches for his phone again. 

A few notifications fill up his screen, some instagram direct message previews, his group chat that he never responded to, and a few emails coming through, but you had yet to respond. Maybe it’s a little creepy, but Jungkook knows you’re home because he passed by your parked car on his way in. So his mind jumps to two extremes: you were either face down, drowning in your bathtub, or that yellow shades wearing wannabe version of himself was at your place. 

Not an ounce of shame sits within him as he speedwalks to the side his bed was on, placing both palms onto the wall before his ear was pressed against the cold drywall. Jungkook’s not really sure what would make him feel good, hearing you and Jung Hoseok together, or hearing nothing at all. His ears strain to hear anything, but the only sound he gets is his own blood pumping. 

With a small pout he pulls back, deciding he’d play the annoying neighbor role today and pound on your door instead. It’s a role he doesn’t take lightly, knuckles banging on the wood loud enough for you to hear wherever you were in your apartment. It takes a few minutes before any sign of life is shown, your door creaking open, and Jungkook is thankful because he was about to head to the maintenance office to ask for a key in case you actually were drowning in your bathtub. 

“C’mon, let’s get food,” he declares instantly, a charming smile on his face as he stands with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. The smile slowly falls off when he gets a good look at you, hair looking like a mess on your head and your fluffy blanket draped around you as you give out a weak cough. “Are you sick?”

“I think so,” you rasp out, leaning against your door frame and tugging the blanket tighter around you. 

“Did that fucker give you mono?” Jungkook looks irritated, brows pinched together in a grimace—something you’re definitely not accustomed to seeing so you almost don’t catch his accusation.

“Jungkook, no! It’s nothing serious.”

He doesn’t look fully convinced, but he shrugs anyways, positive you weren’t interested in getting interrogated when you were feeling under the weather. “Alright, let me know if you need me to drive you to the doctor if it becomes something serious.”

With a roll of your eyes and a small smile, you wave him off, slowly shutting the door behind you. Your eye immediately peeks through your peephole, not relaxing until he makes his way down the hall and enters the elevator, still on his quest for greasy food. 

“God, how old are you?” you grumble to yourself, yanking the blanket off your body and onto the floor with a huff. Pretending to be sick to avoid your friend was a new low, especially after the post-orgasm epiphany you had last night. A sane person would come to terms with their feelings and confess to them, uncertainty and possible rejection be damned! But you? No, you have to fake a cold like the giant coward you are. 

The guilt only deepens when a knock comes from your door an hour later, a quick peek through your peephole allowing you to see Jungkook setting two plastic bags on the floor before stepping back and walking to his apartment next door. You don’t come out until you hear his door shut, seeing the logo of your favorite diner down the street. No doubt would your comfort meal be inside the takeaway container. 

It takes all you have to not rush over to his place and say you were lying when you see he had also gone ahead and got you cold medication, a few different bottles because he surely didn’t know which was best, along with teas and some cough drops. 

You’re a dirty liar. A horrible friend too. 

That doesn’t stop you from devouring the meal in the takeout box as you’re hunched over your breakfast bar like a little gremlin. “This is just for today,” you mumble out to yourself as you set the plastic fork down and chug some of the leftover alcohol you had in your fridge. It’s your own version of a pity party, except the food feels heavy in your stomach, knowing the man you were avoiding was the one who bought it—bring on the guilt. 

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

You’re a dirty liar and horrible friend 2.0. Why this time? Because tomorrow stretched out a few more days than planned. It wasn’t entirely intentional at first, getting stuck at work longer than usual and missing the weekly hangout at your place where you got your remote covered in cheeto dust as you argued over what to watch. But it trickled down onto shorter replies to his texts, or you scrambling out of your apartment and into the elevator so fast in order to not run into him, your mind still trying to list all the pros and cons to this potential relationship before you even had the guts to confess to your feelings. 

Jungkook didn’t know thats what was occupying your mind, no he was currently thinking the worst. He notices the change instantly, recognizing it because this was the exact way you had acted while you were with Hajoon, right before you broke the news to him that you needed to keep some distance while you focused on your relationship. So Jungkook automatically assumes that your sudden change in behavior after going on a single date with Jung Hoseok, was because you wanted to make your relationship with this man work. 

His assumption stings—a lot actually—and soon enough he stops initiating conversations altogether. He didn’t want to hear you tell him you had to distance yourself again, he’s not sure his heart could handle that a second time, so he decides to get ahead of the curb and take a massive step away from you. It hurts him to know you’re right next door, and just like before, it’s like you’re back to being total strangers. 

Safe to say Jungkook was currently going on his own downward spiral. 

You could text him like nothing had happened and he’d accept it with open arms, but instead you text your best friend an SOS text, begging her to meet you at your place. She calls you dramatic at first, but once you say it’s about Jungkook she shows up at your place in record time. 

“Did you finally fuck him?” Is her greeting of choice, spoken shamelessly from the hallway with no worry about her volume. She cackles when you yank the bottle of wine from her grasp and tug her into your apartment, letting the door slam behind her. 

“You’re lucky he’s not home you bitch.” An eye roll is her only response, yanking the bottle back and making her way into your kitchen to grab the opener. 

“So you didn’t fuck him?” The cork pops at her question, a curious glance staring you down as she pours the red liquid into an oversized cup. 

“No Seulgi, I didn’t fuck him. But I did...something.” It makes your face warm up as you remember it, gratefully grabbing the cup she hands your way because you definitely need some liquid courage before confessing to your sins.

She hums in thought as she raids your pantry for something to munch on, settling on a bag of mini pretzels before leading you to your couch, needing to know the gossip that led to your sos text. “Okay, did you accidentally send him a nude then?”

“No, that wouldn’t be so bad I think?” Sending him an accidental nude would be laughable, probably resolved by a few screaming texts and dumb jokes before moving on. But new feelings seeing the light of day seemed so much worse. “But I sort of kissed him at a club a few weeks ago to get back at Hajoon—long story,” you cut in when you see her ready to fire off questions. 

“And then I went on that failed Tinder date I told you about, and when I got home I sort of heard him, you know,”— you mimic a jerking off motion with your hand and ignore her lewd gasp, “and then I…” you trail off shamefully. 

“No!” she gasps even louder, hand pressed to her mouth and eyes wide. 

“Yes! And the fucking orgasm opened my eyes and made me realize that maybe that tiny crush you guys always joke about him having is real, and maybe I have a tiny crush on him too.”

“Does he know?”

“That I like him?”

“No, that you rubbed one out while listening to him you dirty slut!” Oh she’s loving this, leaning back into your cushions with a handful of pretzels resting on her boobs, a sly smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her wine. She’s the one who planted the seed in your mind, playfully joking about Jungkook any chance she got, saying he had the hots for you because she enjoyed the flustered look on your face. No doubt would she text the group chat with the news the second you finish this cry for help. 

“Do you think I told him? I can barely come to terms with the fact that I like him. Like what am I supposed to do?”

She sighs dramatically, munching on the final pretzel on her tits before sitting up and dusting off the crumbs from her shirt. “Look, I know you’re just realizing that he likes you so this is still new and fresh for you, but we’ve noticed it for years. It’s fine that you didn’t see it, you had other things occupying your mind.” 

You frown as you stare at the rug beneath your feet, remembering how life was when you first moved into this complex. Getting out of a previous relationship weeks prior, when you had met Jungkook your mind was not interested in pursuing anything with him regardless of how cute you thought he was. It made it easier for you to form a friendship, not worried about trying to impress him, or flirt with him, allowing him to see you for who you truly are. 

Jungkook had his fair share of girlfriends during the years, none of which were entirely serious but by the time he was completely single you had met Hajoon, and he had accepted the fact that maybe you were better off as friends and he would just admire you from afar. That is, until you decided to plant one on him. So technically this is your fault. 

“Jungkook likes you okay, and I’m sure if you just marched next door and told him you like him too he’ll drop on one knee and marry you.”

“Shut up,” you snort, shoving her shoulder with a smile. 

“As a matter of fact, go over there right now!” She stands up from her spot, yanking your arms to haul you up with her. 

“I told you, he’s not home. But, I’ll tell him. I have to.”

Seulgi crosses her arms over her chest as she stares at you, clearly displeased that she wouldn’t be witness to this love story unfolding in real time. “You better. You never know what sneaky little bitch is trying to get him to get over you.”

The sneaky little bitch in question is Park Jimin, currently sitting directly across from Jungkook, guzzling down beer like his life depends on it. It's impressive really, how quickly he empties the cup, eyes shut looking as content as could be even in the dim lighting. Jungkook can only watch with a grimace as his friend sets the glass down and wipes at his mouth with no sense of table manners. 

“What?” he burps, proceeding to pour more of the golden liquid into his cup from the pitcher in the middle of the table. 

“I always forget how absolutely disgusting you are. How do you do it?” Jimin just frowns at the question, not entirely understanding so Jungkook continues. “What switch do you flip to go from sipping champagne to chugging beer like a fucking biker.”

“It’s a talent, I know.” He smiles wide, reaching forward to grip Jungkook’s hand and force him to grab his own cup. Condensation was pooling around the bottom from sitting there untouched, and that just wouldn’t do on Jimin’s watch. “C’mon, drink it!”

“Fine,” Jungkook grumbles, raising the glass and allowing Jimin to clank the cups together before taking a big gulp. He doesn’t clear the cup like his friend did seconds prior but it's enough to appease him. It tastes absolutely bitter the whole way down, settling into his stomach uncomfortably, and the look on his face as he pushes the glass away from him is very telling. 

Boisterous shouts fill the sports bar they were in, huddles of people surrounding the tables and booths as they watched the current soccer match playing on the televisions lining the walls. Jungkook honestly feels like a debby downer now, moping in his seat instead of enjoying the atmosphere with his friend like they normally did. The current game was definitely not the reason Jungkook had texted Jimin to grab drinks, no he needed an outlet to talk about you—preferably in a space that didn’t have walls as thin as his apartment.  

When he barely acknowledges the plate of wings set in front of him Jimin huffs, resisting the urge to dig in because he knew once he did he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. “Are you gonna be like this the entire time?”

“Like what?” Jungkook has the gall to ask, acting as if he wasn’t looking like a wounded animal. 

“Like you just discovered your wife of ten years is having an affair with your sister.”

He sits up straighter at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Jesus.“

Jimin knew the jist of what was happening through the texts he had received the past week, but it seems like Jungkook didn’t want to jump into the topic of it at all now that they were sitting across from each other. He just sighs before deciding to be honest, wasting no time beating around the bush to hopefully be the voice of reason Jungkook needs. “You’ve been simping over her for years JK, and I get it, you think she could be the one. But what about you huh? It’s not fair for you to have your heart wrung out each time she gets a man and decides to put the friendship on pause—“

“That happened once!” He defends, brows pinched on his forehead as he shakes his head, ready to explain your situation because he wasn’t a fan of hearing his friend say anything about you when he didn’t truly know what happened. “The dude was a piece of shit and basically told her it was him or me. I’m not gonna crucify her for wanting a long term relationship to work.”

“Right, so she’s not icing you out again because she got a new man? That’s literally what you told me, it’s why I bought you this sympathy pitcher of beer!”

“Fuck you, you bought this pitcher for yourself.” Jimin had chugged two giant glasses of beer already, and was steadily working on his third, whereas Jungkook’s watered down cup remained relatively untouched. “Besides, I was just...spiraling and assumed when I sent you that desperate text. But I haven’t heard anything.”

Jimin can only stare blankly at the table as he processes what was just said before locking eyes with his friend once more, “Sorry, what? You haven’t heard anything? The hell kind of riddle is that.”

Jungkook sinks into the booth with a look of shame, not wanting to admit to occasionally laying in his bed at night in complete and total silence just to see if he could hear you and the hypothetical version of Jung Hoseok doing literally anything. It’s not one of his proudest moments, feeling like a bit of a creeper as he laid stiff on his bed, too scared to make a sound.  “Nothing, forget about it. Point is, I haven’t seen the fucker come in or out of her place, so what does that mean?”

A deep sigh comes from Jimin, hand reaching forward to push the beer closer to Jungkook, desperately trying to get him to drink and ease up. “It means you pay far too much attention to her. When was the last time you got any action?”

Two weeks ago. From his hand and filthy imagination. 

“A few months,” he grumbles, remembering his last hook up that happened a few days before he discovered you got dumped. 

“Get outta here.” Jimin rolls his eyes as he points to the door. “Literally, go stand at the corner outside, show some thighs or a tattooed titty and take your pick of the swarm of girls that will surely follow you.”

Jungkook thinks he’s joking, but when his friend doesn’t drop his hand and narrows his eyes threateningly he knows he’s being serious. “My tits aren’t even tattooed,”—his large palms press against his shirt covered chest as if to prove a point— “And you sound like a douchebag talking like this.”

“What? She went on a tinder date and definitely got laid, so you need to even out the playing field. Also, it might help you chill the hell out.”

“Oh my god, you’re not helping.” Jungkook really didn’t need that visual again, it had flashed in his mind too often the night of his pity party and now it was once again at the front of his brain. 

“Alright, okay. I’m throwing out my safe word right now.” Jimin leans closer, arms resting on the table with a confused look on his face. “What do you need from me here? Like, do I play the role of a supportive friend who wants you to get over her, or do I play the role of a friend who wants you to confess? Because you’re giving me some mixed signals Jeon.”

A groan escapes Jungkook, fingers rubbing at his eyes before dragging down his face as he sinks even further into his seat. “I don’t know.” 

It’s the truth. Jungkook had no idea what he wanted his friend to do to help him. He knew that although his feelings for you have weighed heavy on his chest for what seems like years, you technically had no idea, so he feels a little guilty over his frustration for the whole situation. You were newly single again and determined to go through this self proclaimed wild phase so Jungkook isn’t dumb enough to think you can’t go out and do whatever you want, even if that means being with someone who isn’t him. 

“Look,” Jimin sighs, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You only have two choices here, tell her how you feel and accept whatever comes with it, or make peace with the idea of just being friends. Either way, I think you need to loosen up and have fun tonight.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Jungkook sits himself up, wrapping his fingers around the cup in an effort to at least look like he wanted to be here. He couldn’t sit here and mope about a problem like this when he hadn’t attempted to come out and tell you how he feels. 

One night of loosening up to get you off his mind wouldn’t hurt, if anything it might help him come to his senses. At least that’s what Jimin was currently whispering with a mischievous smile on his lips. “It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure you don’t black out and get home safe. Who knows, you might get plastered enough to drunk text your confession.”

Jungkook glares at his friend, not liking the goofy look on his face as he starts to laugh. “I swear to god, you better not let me get to that point. Take my phone away from me.”

Jimin obviously wants to see the world burn, or at least he enjoys it when Jungkook somehow digs himself into his own grave. That's exactly why he responds with a million laughing emojis when Jungkook texts him asking why the hell he hadn’t taken his phone last night. 

He did a good job hiding his shock when a knock came from his front door, half expecting it to be you, keeping a smile on his face as he allowed  the person who was very clearly not you in before swiftly entering his bathroom. Jungkook wants to stay locked here forever, holed up while he sits on his toilet and not in the living room with company. It wasn’t like it was bad company either, his drunken ass going through his contact list and sending an invitation to hangout the following day to the last person he spoke to, Aillie. 

The girl is sweet, someone he had a casual fling with for months, someone who was used to his random texts so she doesn’t think twice before agreeing. The only silver lining to this was that he hadn’t sent you a typo-filled drunken confession, which is what Jimin responds with before telling him to suck it up and leave his bathroom. 

Jungkook accepts his fate, as well as accepting that he is partially responsible for this. He shoves his device back into his pockets before standing up and flushing the toilet for show, washing his hands just to stall. One good glance at his reflection makes him cringe, stained shirt and sweats combo leaves him looking like the unprepared mess he is. Another detour through his room to change was a must before he has no choice but to step back out. 

“You’re totally hung over aren’t you?” Aillie jokes from her spot on the couch, comfortable enough in his apartment from the time spent here. She locks her phone as she stands up, taking her time to really look Jungkook over. He was not dressed like someone who was expecting a guest, and despite having seen Jungkook at his sloppiest, his previous attire of oversized shirt and slightly stained sweatpants didn’t look like someone who was expecting a fuck buddy to pop over. Even with his new outfit looking more put together, it was obvious Jungkook was caught off guard by her showing up. 

“What?” Jungkook dumbly asks, trying to come up with some lame excuse to justify his earlier appearance but he falls short. His fingers gently rake through his hair, a grimace falling on his face as he looks back up at her. “Actually, a little. Sorry, I got drunk last night when I text you so sober me was not really prepared.”

“Yeah I figured, you sent me some blurry selfies right after. But we can just hang, we don’t have to do anything,” she trails off, a soft smile on her lips. The only time they ever hung out was to hook up, having ten minute conversations before and after the fact. “Or I can leave too if it's weird that I’m here.” 

Jungkook is shaking his head before she can even finish, already feeling bad enough after texting her to come over. How shitty would he be if he immediately kicked her out. This was fine, a nice distraction from it all, decent middle ground that would help him get his mind off you without having to take Jimin’s douchebag advice. 

“No, we can watch a movie or something. It’s not like I have other plans.” Had this been two weeks ago it would be a totally different story. Jungkook would typically be waiting in his apartment as he stared at the slowly ticking clock, just waiting for it to strike 7:30 because that's when you usually got home. Then he’d either get a text from you to come over with snacks or you’d show up at his door and invite yourself over for the weekly game night. 

It didn’t happen last week, or the week prior, so Jungkook is very confident that it would not be happening today either. It’s that same sense of confidence—and saltiness—that allows him to get comfortable with Aillie, blissfully unaware that you had just pulled into the parking garage a few stories below. 

“I swear to god if you don’t go straight to his door the minute you get off the elevator I will never let you live it down.” Seulgi’s voice fills your car through the speakers, fading out as you shut the car off and bring your phone to your ear to continue the conversation. 

“Dude, I just got off work. I need to make myself look decent.” Plastic bags rustle together as you grab the snacks you had picked up on your way home, all full of yours and Jungkook's favorite treats. It was definitely a guilt fueled purchase, hoping the items were enough to distract him from the fact that you were kind of a bitch for ghosting him recently, or at least butter him up into accepting your apology easier. 

“You think Jungkook cares if you’re a little sweaty from work? He’s a grown man, that’s not gonna stop him from going do—“

“Okay, goodbye!” You hastily cut her off as you press the elevator button, hearing her rambling off about being interrupted. “I’m about to get on the elevator, I’ll tell you how it goes.”

With a small sigh you hang up and stuff the device into your purse, stepping onto the lift as the doors open up and pressing the number for your floor. Your hands are clammy as you grip the plastic bag, uncharacteristically nervous about seeing Jungkook again after so long. 

The main obstacle for you to get over was apologizing for being a crappy friend, and if that went well you were going to suck it up and just come out and confess, the odds of him saying no were slim. And even if he did, you’re perfectly content with staying friends, as long as you could keep him close. 

It’s that same optimistic mentality that allows you to calm down as you enter your place and decide to give yourself a minute to mentally prepare. His favorite ice cream gets put into the freezer for later before you decide to shower and give yourself a pep talk the entire time. 

This pep talk of yours is filled with best case scenarios: Jungkook accepting the confession with open arms, finally being able to kiss him properly, everything falling into place the way it should have a long time ago. And as you head over, totally sober, freshly washed, looking and smelling your best, you really can’t picture this going any other way. 

With a deep breath you’re knocking on his front door, quickly pulling back your hand and wiping it onto your pants as you step back. Jungkook hears the knock clearly from his spot on the couch, his gaze tearing away from the television to stare at his front door with a small frown. He hadn’t ordered any food and Aillie had just excused herself to use his bathroom so his brain is having a hard time wondering who it could be. 

He curses under his breath, not putting it past himself to have texted a second person last night with an invitation to hang out. Why was Jungkook a friendly drunk?

As he presses his eye against the peephole and spots you standing there, he thinks he’s imagining things. It had seemed like so long since he had last seen you in person, and the warped fish-eyed version of you has him stepping back and rubbing his eyes before taking another glance. He suddenly feels like throwing up, and he can’t blame his earlier hangover on it. 

For a brief second he contemplates pretending he hadn’t heard you, but the guilt of doing so makes his heart twist, so he musters up the courage to open the door. It’s barely a crack really, just enough for you to see him while still concealing his apartment, something you definitely found strange because you’re usually flinging the door open and strutting right in, but you suppose his reaction is warranted considering your previous behavior. 

“Y/N, hey. Are you alright?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine!” Your fingers tangle together in front of you, not entirely sure what to do with your nerves and Jungkook spots it easily. His own nerves sky rocket when he hears the sound of running water coming from his bathroom a few feet away, knowing Aillie would most likely pop out any second now, and he’s not sure why it feels like a dirty secret that he has another girl over. 

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah, I was actually wanting to talk to you about something kind of important.” Your smile is hopeful, despite the nerves swirling in your eyes. The nervous skip of your heart is felt in your throat, not remembering the last time you had felt this way about telling someone how you felt about them romantically. 

“Right now?” he wonders, fingers gripping the door handle tighter when he hears his bathroom door unlock, the sound of footsteps rounding the corner before stepping into the living room, a few feet away from the door and in perfect view of the wedge Jungkook had opened. 

When your eyes flicker over his shoulder, spotting the auburn haired girl giving you a curious glance, you feel all your confidence slip away. Seulgi had definitely been right about needing to confess soon, Jungkook was a catch and just because you hadn’t realized it sooner didn’t mean the rest of the world was blind to it. 

“Yeah, right now...but you’re busy, so it’s fine!” You want to scramble away from there, feeling dumb the longer you stand there. Jungkook wants to say he’s not busy, kick the girl out of his place and invite you in but that wouldn’t be fair to her, for all he knew your important conversation would be a repeat of the conversation you had over Hajoon, and he really didn't want to get friendship dumped while this girl was in his apartment. He’s pretty sure his Yelp rating would drop a bit if he cried on the couch about you to his old hook up. 

He starts to speak but you cut him off before he can, “Don’t worry about it! I’ll see you later.” You force a smile before walking away, not allowing him to get a word in as you quickly step into your apartment and move to the furthest room away from your bedroom. 

You can feel the cold of your kitchen floor as you sit on your butt, back against your cabinets, the small twinge of defeat spreading within you. “This is fine. Maybe she’s just a friend. I can always tell him tomorrow,” you whisper out. But your fingers seem to think otherwise as they type out a message to Seulgi, informing her that the mission was unsuccessful and you’d be putting on The Notebook like you always did. It was basically protocol to do so when things went south in your life. 

She doesn’t even know how to console you, knowing she can’t tell you it was his loss or that he wasn’t worth it because she knows that’d be a lie and you wouldn’t believe it for a second. The only thing she can offer is coming over, but you’re quick to turn her down, deciding that being alone in the comfort of your bed as you inhaled the ice cream you bought for Jungkook would be best. 

Is being in your room the wisest choice when you know you share a wall with Jungkook—and he has a cute girl over? No. Probably not. But you figure if you hear anything explicit it’s just your dose of karma, so you accept it, turning up the volume of the movie a few levels just to soften the blow. 

However, Jungkook would definitely not be hooking up with her in his bedroom, or anywhere in his apartment for that matter. Luckily Aillie is blessed with the gift of reading the damn room and can easily spot the shift in Jungkook’s mood the second he shuts the door. She’s sitting on the edge of the couch now, hands gently placed on her knees as she gives him a sympathetic smile. 

“I get the vibe that somethings off.”

He looks up at her then, slowing his pace until he’s awkwardly standing in the middle of the room with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “My friend—my neighbor just wanted to talk about something. But everything’s fine.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and Aillie doesn’t believe him in the slightest. A small sigh fills the air as she stands up, collecting her bag and approaching him. “Look, I know deep talks really aren’t our thing so I’m not going to even try to dive into this, but you should go talk to your friend.”

A comforting hand is placed on his shoulder before she makes her way to the door to leave, Jungkook already following closely behind her. “No, you don’t have to go. You came all this way because I texted you with way too much tequila in my system.”

“Jungkook,” she laughs, opening the door with a smile. “You’re way too sweet for your own good. It was nice seeing you though.” Her eyes slowly move over to your front door before looking back at him, head cocking to the side in a very clear indication that he better go over. He can only nod in understanding, waving her goodbye and shutting the door once she heads down to the elevator. 

The action sounds of the movie they were watching continues to fill his apartment, whatever chaos was going on only making his brain whirl so he’s quick to grab the remote and shut it off entirely. Now he’s just stuck in complete silence, wondering if he should quickly make his way over to yours or play it calm and collected. 

The total silence allows him to hear the muffled mumbling of a movie he knew all too well. It draws him in, lures him into his bedroom until he’s kneeling on the mattress with his ear pressed against the wall to properly make it out. You were watching the Notebook, at a concerning volume, which could mean a number of things. Jungkook knew none of them were good, usually rooted in issues you had with your ex, or a tough day at work, or any particular day where you just felt like crying. 

With a deep breath, he’s slowly knocking along his wall, almost experimentally, hoping it's enough to grab your attention through the current scene playing. For a second he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep while watching the film, but then the room falls silent as you pause it entirely. 

Your hearts racing now, ears straining to hear anything else and hoping this wasn’t how the beginning of the explicit noises would start, but then another knock comes from behind you. It makes you gasp, like you’ve just been caught being the nosey neighbor you are, hearing the soft scrape of his hand sliding down the wall. The ice cream gets put onto your nightstand as you sit up properly, forcing yourself out of the mountain of pillows you were practically suffocating in and turning around to knock back.

Jungkook’s palm presses back onto the wall, smiling at your response before fishing his phone out of his pocket. His fingers find your thread of messages, further down the list than he was used to, and as he opens them up and sees the string of unanswered texts dating back to two weeks ago, it stings just like it did before. He pushes his pride aside though, knowing you had wanted to talk today in person, so he proceeds to quadruple text you. 

Jungkook 8:44pm : are you seriously watching the notebook again?

You’re unlocking your phone the second it buzzes, smiling at the dimly lit screen before typing out a response. 

Y/N 8:45pm : shut up, it’s my comfort movie

Y/N 8:45pm : do you wanna watch it with me? for old times sake

The device is locked and placed face down onto your sheets the second you hit send, sinking into the pillows once again as you try not to scream at yourself because you know he’ll hear you. Why would you invite him over when he clearly has company? You had seen her with your own eyes, had seen how cute she is, had seen how cute Jungkook is, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

Jungkook is quick though, texting back in agreement and heading over instantly. If you were watching your comfort movie then Jungkook wanted to make sure you were okay. Putting the past two weeks behind him, knowing you’d most likely have a good enough explanation—an explanation he would definitely be needing before the night was over—he’s knocking on your door before you can even check your messages. 

It takes you a minute to untangle your limbs from your covers as you hastily try to get to your door, sock clad feet sliding along your wooden floors when you finally yank the door open. Jungkook wears a soft smile as he stares down at you, taking note that you had switched your outfit to your usual sad movie binge attire of baggy shirt and lounge shorts. His eyes zero in on your lips when he notices there's something lingering at the corner of them. 

“So, are you gonna share whatever the hell that is?” His finger points at it smugly, laughing when your tongue peeks out to wipe it away. 

“It was actually meant to be for you.” Stepping aside, you let him enter your place. Jungkook almost feels a little strange being here after the weird few weeks, but he pushes it aside, just wanting things to feel normal. 

“Does that mean there’s no more left?” His eyes playfully narrow at you as you step closer, moving on to stare at the kitchen table, and the coffee table in search of the tub of ice cream that supposedly had his name on it. The earlier nerves you felt slowly fade away when you realize he’s not visibly upset about what happened, but it only makes your guilt deepen that despite your ability to be a crummy friend, Jungkook would still try his best to come through for you. 

“There’s about half of it left, it’s probably a little soft now though.” You side step him to enter the kitchen, grabbing an extra spoon and handing it over as a peace treaty, smiling when he gratefully accepts it. “C’mon, I paused the movie.”

Jungkook is not a stranger to your bedroom, especially when sappy movies were playing, finding his spot easily on the right side where he typically handed you tissues whenever you cried. The tissues were missing this time, in place of them being the bag of snacks you had bought, his ice cream on the other nightstand. 

“What part are you on?” he asks, settling onto the bed after fluffing up the pillows, waving his hands so you could pass the tub of ice cream his way. 

“It just started raining on the boat.” Jungkook hums, scooping out some of the chocolate ice cream and into his mouth. He knew this scene very well, and when you press play, he mentally repeats all of the lines. Just as Noah declares he wrote her 365 letters, you awkwardly clear your throat, your own spoon slowly sneaking over to his side to steal some ice cream for yourself. 

“I’m sorry if I made things awkward with your date.” Your voice sounds timid, something he’s not used to hearing from you at all, so he chuckles, laughing harder when you swat at his arm. “I’m serious, I should have texted you before just showing up.”

“Really? When have you ever done that before?” The two of you never notified the other when they wanted to show up, Jungkook had even given you the code to his place once when he was at work and you were desperate for some fruity pebbles—you used that code to your advantage and Jungkook never hated it. But all things considered, it's fair why you think you would have to give him a heads up. 

“You didn’t make it awkward though.” It’s not the complete truth, you coming over is what had made Aillie decide to leave, but Jungkook had to take most of the credit for it. “I kinda made it awkward from the beginning.”

“Why, what happened?”

“I went out last night with Jimin“ —you immediately hum in understanding, knowing very well how convincing Jimin could be with alcohol— “and apparently I texted her to hang out today, had no recollection, so when she showed up I was definitely not ready.”

“Damn, this is how I know you’re a better person than I am. If that happened to me, the second I checked my peephole and saw someone I didn’t remember inviting over, I’m gonna pretend I’m not home.”

“Yeah well, she lives like an hour away so I’d feel like an ass if I did that. Don’t think I’ll be talking to her again any time soon though.” He sighs in thought, gently tapping his spoon on the surface of the softening ice cream. There was one thing weighing heavy on his mind, needing to know what important thing you had to talk to him about, wondering if you were actually going to friendship dump him earlier and he had just made it worse by coming over and hanging out like old times. 

He doesn’t want to come right out and ask it though, not wanting to set himself up for an awkward conversation in case that wasn’t what you wanted to talk about, so he settles for something safe enough that would allow him to get a glimpse. 

“So how are things with Hoseok?” Yeah, that’s a good start. 

“Huh?” Your spoon freezes in its spot, face clearly looking confused in the dim glow of the television, the movie long forgotten now that you were speaking. 

“Tinder guy? Yellow sunglasses guy that gave you mono?” 

It suddenly clicks again, having forgotten all about Jung Hoseok the second you had gotten home from the failed date and came to terms with your feelings. Your lie of having a cold must have been believable enough for Jungkook to genuinely think he had given you something like mono. 

“He didn’t give me mono!” Jungkook rolls his eyes with a playful smile, humming along like he totally believes you. “But I didn’t tell you?”

He frowns as he stares at you, not entirely sure how to take your tone. “Tell me what? That you’re engaged and the wedding is in June?”

“No way,” you laugh, swatting his spoon away with a clank as you grab some ice cream before shoving it in your mouth, fighting against the brain freeze to continue speaking. “Our date was a bust.”

“How? Was it that bad?” He desperately wanted to know, having convinced himself the date had gone spectacularly well and you were now an exclusive item. The small twinge of guilt is felt when he realizes he’s a little too happy that the date had been a failure, but he allows himself to have this small, tiny victory. 

“Mm, it was so good it was bad.” He looks utterly confused, and you don’t blame him, so you elaborate. “He was this perfect gentleman who just wanted to play games, like to the point where he had a notebook where he was tallying our points, and then he walked me to my car and kissed my cheek goodbye.”

“Oh the horror!” Jungkook gasps, setting his spoon down to clutch his heart in dramatics. “How dare he try to romance you with a game night.”

“Jungkook, shut up!” you laugh, finally feeling like everything was right again, sitting in bed with your closest friend as you teased each other. “Look, I’ll give him some credit. The date was nice, he was not the sleazy douchebag his profile made him out to be, and I’m sure he’ll find the perfect girl for him on Tinder. But he clearly wanted something serious and—“

“And you don’t want that right now. It’s fair.” Of course you would turn him down, you had just decided to embark on this new adventure in the single world. It was kind of dumb for Jungkook to assume one date with Tinder Boy would be enough for you to give up your short lived dream. 

You take a steady breath at his words before taking another scoop of ice cream, lips wrapped around the spoon as you slowly pull it out of your mouth. The nerves are trickling back in, making your heart skip and your eyes bounce around. If you don’t come out and say it now, you know you never will. 

Your spoon joins his in the tub of ice cream before you decide to move it back to the nightstand, forcing yourself to look back at him, seeing him turned away as he rummages through the plastic bag full of snacks. “I don’t want that with him.”

Jungkook freezes, the rustling of plastic ceases as his hands come back to his sides and he turns back around. With him. He was the king of jumping to worse case scenarios so his brain has no issues coming to this very horrible conclusion. 

“Have you been talking to Hajoon again?”

“No, Jungkook I haven’t.”

“Are you sure? I’m saying this now, but if you get back with him I will not hesitate to pop him in the face if I run into him in the halls. It’s fair game out there, neutral territory for him to get his ass beat—“

“It’s you.”

His brain short circuits at that, mini versions of himself currently running around and screaming in his head as he tries to make sense of this. The first instinct he has is to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t been talking to Hajoon again, and laugh it off. But you look a little too vulnerable right now, eyes nervously looking at him and then looking away at his lingering silence. 

“Wait, what?” It’s the only thing he can sputter out, caught off guard by your words, not wanting to say anything else in case the world was cruel enough for him to have completely misheard you. 

“I don’t want that with Tinder Boy or Hajoon, I want it with you.” It gets a little easier saying it a second time, but his reaction is hard to gauge. You had been expecting him to reciprocate the confession instantly, but the longer he looked shocked only made you think that you and Seulgi had been seriously wrong about his supposed crush. 

Jungkook is having a difficult time trying to go from you ghosting him to you suddenly admitting to liking him, the change in emotions not allowing him to say anything he had practiced in the mirror for so long. He can’t come out and give you a speech about how he thinks you’re the one, how you’re obviously a good match together, brain too focused on other details. “How long have you known this?”

“For the past two weeks, but deep down I know it’s been longer.”

His wide eyes glance over at you now, everything slowly clicking into place. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“Yes,” you mumble, embarrassed over the way you had acted. The last time you had avoided someone was in elementary school, having a best friend go ask your crush if he likes you while you hid in the bathroom, scared of the answer. “I like you Jungkook and I knew I wouldn’t be able to play it cool. I was scared to say something and have you not feel the same and then have our friendship be weird.”

Jungkook smiles in that adorable way you love, nose scrunching up cutely as he leans closer, large palms coming to cup your cheeks. He has wanted to hear this for so long, and sure, maybe it wasn’t some super romantic confession over a candlelit dinner like he had occasionally dreamed of, but this felt right. 

“You’re so stupid,” he whispers out, thumb softly caressing your cheek as he chuckles, feeling the way your lips turn into a frown at his harmless insult. 

“Jungkook, I’m being serious,” you whine, heart still pounding in your chest. Your hands come up to gently wrap around his wrists, allowing him to continue to squish your cheeks with that endearing look on his face. 

“I’m being serious too Y/N. Did you really think I wouldn’t feel the same?” Jungkook did everything he did with you out of pure friendliness, never expecting to get something in return from it, but there was a small sprinkling of a crush in every one of his actions. “I like you too, and I have for a really long time.”

The relief you feel comes instantly, lips slowly pulling into a smile when you finally have the confidence to look directly into his eyes again. If this is how light you feel after the two weeks spent freaking out, you can only imagine how Jungkook feels. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now, can I please kiss you?” You’re nodding the second the question leaves his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his hands glide down to cup your jaw, soft lips slowly pressing against yours. It’s a gentle smack of skin as he pulls back, a smirk on his lips when he opens his eyes, softly rubbing his nose against yours. 

“Wait,” he breathes out, chuckling softly. “Is he still looking?” He has the nerve to repeat the same question that had been the root of your guilt, and when your eyes shoot open and glare at him, he can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out. 

“I hate you,” you mutter out, not an ounce of truth behind it. 

“Mm, no you don’t.” 

His lips find yours again, falling into a steady rhythm, softer and less rushed than the first kiss you had shared at the club. There’s no pounding bass in the background, or the taste of liquor on your lips, but Jungkook prefers it this way. He likes the low hum of the movie continuing to play in the background, the sweetness of the ice cream lingering on your lips when his tongue gently swipes at the seam of them, the way your hands slowly slide around his neck as he deepens each kiss. 

With each shared breath, you slide further down your bed, pulling Jungkook down with you until he’s hovering directly above you. His knees dig into the sheets, one hand pressed beside your head to keep himself stable as you urge him even closer to you. The delicate golden chain he wears kisses your skin, pendant settling onto your chest, the cool sensation is almost enough to distract you as his tongue slowly slips into your mouth. Jungkook groans when you let out a small gasp, your fingers slipping into his hair and tugging gently at the strands by the nape of his neck. 

He wants to remember this kiss instead of the one from the club, embed every gasp you let out into his brain, the way your chest pushes up to feel more of him, how your hands slide down his back, leaving a fiery trail in their path that makes Jungkook shiver. And when you slide your thighs further apart for him, innocently at first, he can’t help it when his lips freeze on yours as you slowly roll your hips upwards. It gives him the same automatic reaction he had gotten at the club, all the blood rushing to his cock instantly, except this time he doesn’t feel the shame he had felt before. There was no ulterior motive to what you were doing, sincerity shown in your confession, shared within each kiss, so Jungkook allows himself to bask in the want he feels for you.

“Y/N,” he groans out when you repeat the action, pulling away from your swollen lips to stare at you through hooded eyes. You’re licking your lips over as your eyes slowly open, a small glimmer evident in them as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what you’re doing.

“What?” you question, leaning up to kiss the edge of his mouth, giggling when he attempts to chase your lips as you pull back, choosing to kiss down his jaw instead. As your tongue gently trails along the side of his neck, you feel the harsh gulp he takes, his fingers bunching up in the sheets beside your head. His neck has always been a weak point for him, turning him into a puddle in seconds, you knew this from the unfiltered conversations you’ve had and it was something you were definitely going to be using to your advantage. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he grunts, eyes fluttering shut as you nip at his skin, a visible shiver racking through him. 

“Of course I am,” you hum, letting your hands roam his back, sliding around his front until you’re sneaking past the white fabric of his shirt. When your cool hands meet his skin, he tenses, the muscles on his stomach tightening up as your fingertips trail up his body. You’ve known Jungkook was well defined, lean and toned in all the best places, having seen him shirtless a few times. But being able to touch him like this, feel each stuttered breath and jump of his skin reacting to your touch fueled you. 

Jungkook knows you can feel the racing of his heart now, your palms flat on his chest, each thrum revealing his emotions despite the cool and calm exterior he was trying to have. His hips lower towards yours, resisting the urge to rut into you as you start to suck on his skin. The low hum you let out vibrates against his neck, mixed in with the feeling of your wet lips, and he knows he’s done for. The final blow comes in the form of you swiping your tongue at the blossomed hickey, sweet voice pulling him back to earth as you look at him once more. “I want you Jungkook.”

Oh god, he couldn’t do this. His face pulls into a grimace, begging himself to not instantly cum in his pants at what you just said. How many times has he fantasized about this? Hoped you’d beg him for anything in that same exact voice, dreamed of you kissing and sucking on his skin like you currently were. Jungkook isn’t sure any amount of mental preparation would be enough for this. 

“Say that again please.”

You giggle, finger pushing back a strand of his hair as it falls over his face, tucking it behind his ear. The normal doe eyed look you were accustomed to is nowhere to be found, pupils blown out in lust as he stares at you. Being on the receiving end of this stare fills your stomach with butterflies, the flapping of their wings intensifying as he nudges his nose into yours. 

“I want you.” It’s breathless, spoken so softly through the background noise like a personal secret just for him. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing you say it, that much is proven true when you repeat it in between kisses, trailing back up his neck in the same path you had taken until you're speaking the words directly against his lips. He swallows them down greedily, groaning into your mouth when his tongue tangles with yours once more. 

“Fuck, you can have me baby.” He chuckles against your mouth when you start to tug at his shirt, yanking the thin material until he has to pull back and slip the tee off himself. The balled fabric gets tossed aside without a care, dark swirls of ink on his arm fully revealed now, each tattoo reminding you of how long you’ve known him, remembering the two pieces that he had when you first met. When he leans back over you, taking his time trailing kisses down your neck, onto your chest until his own hands are slowly tugging your shirt off of you, you decide there’s other things to focus on besides his glorious tattoos.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you sigh, fingers tangling into his hair when he kisses the swells of your breast, warm tongue sliding over your nipple before his lips are wrapping around it. His large palm gropes the other, thumb flicking over the pebbled bud, smirking when you push your chest further out for him.

“What baby?” He pulls back to blow a gust of cool air on your nipple, the wetness of his saliva making your skin break out into goosebumps. 

“No teasing.”

Jungkook’s laughing now, eyes peering up at you through his lashes. “Oh, you think I’m not gonna tease you after what you did?” He tsks in disapproval as he continues to kiss down your torso, letting his hands trail down your sides, not stopping until he reaches the hem of your shorts. A kiss is placed above your navel as he pulls the shorts down your legs, toying with the waistband of your black underwear. “I’m gonna take my time with you.”

The build up before pleasure will always be your favorite part. The way his hands grip your thighs after tugging your underwear off, fingertips trailing up until his palm is pressing them further apart. It’s impossible to look at him now, the visual of his long hair framing his face as he starts to press wet kisses on your skin is too much to handle. You can feel the warm huff of air when he laughs as your head drops back onto the pillow once more, eyes slipping shut while you wait with anticipation. 

Jungkook wants to comment over how wet you are already, boost his own ego about being able to rile you up with just kissing, but he can see the way you’re already on edge, and he decides he can tease you some more later with what he has in store. Instead, he gives you what you’re mentally pleading him for. Finally pressing his soft lips to your folds, the short gasp you release as his tongue glides up before gently flicking across your clit has him shutting his own eyes, reveling in the way you react to his touch. 

His long fingers spread out your folds before he’s messily spitting onto them, watching the way the glob of saliva trickles down before he’s diving in, falling into the perfect pace with ease. It has your hips rutting up instantly, your hand uncurling its grip from your sheets to travel down your body and find its place tangled in his hair. Jungkook groans against your clit when your fingers grip tightly, yanking the dark strands as the prettiest moan flows out of you. 

“J-just like that, fuck,” you whimper, finally lifting your head up to stare down at him when he latches his lips around your clit and sucks. It sends a spark down your spine, stomach tensing at his rhythm, fully intent to have you fall apart. 

Jungkook wants to push you over the edge, knows he’s talented enough to get you there in record time—he was cocky in the best way—and the way your thighs tremble as he slowly sinks his finger into you proves his point. The slick coating your entrance allows a second finger to slip through with little resistance, a shuddering breath filling the air as he begins to spread his fingers apart, stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

It’s not until his fingers curl up, rubbing along the sweet patch inside of you and you moan out his name, that he realizes he has you right where he wants you. He can’t get himself to look up at you, to see the way your jaw drops as you plead for more. Jungkook knows if his eyes lock with yours too soon he’ll be too weak to be as cruel as he wants to be. 

The pleasure blooms inside you, hips rolling up into his in a way he welcomes, smirk spreading onto his lips when your moans get breathier. He eats you out with determination set in his brows, not satisfied until you’re tightening around his fingers, thighs threatening to close in on either side of his head. The messy way he slurps against you sends you reeling, rutting up into him with need, the wet thump of his fingers blending in with your moans of his name. 

“God, Jungkook, I’m gonna cum.” He believes you, eyes finally opening up to stare at you. The visual is enough to make his cock throb in his pants, your glassy eyed stare locked onto his, chest rising and falling in time with each choked breath. When he playfully winks at you, your walls pulse around him, seconds away from being pushed over the edge, and that’s when he pulls away. 

The warm glow of your orgasm approaching, just about to crest, gets ripped away from you instantly. It makes you gasp, thighs twitching as your hips attempt to push up back towards his mouth, but he’s having none of that. His shiny lips smile up at you innocently, head tilted to slowly kiss your trembling thighs, chuckling at the small cry of frustration you let out. 

“You taste good baby,” he hums, smooching the skin at the juncture of your thighs, circling around your clit without relieving the pressure you felt. The dull ache has your fingers releasing his hair in defeat, a frown etched onto your lips. 

“Jungkook, that’s mean,” you pant, sitting up and resting on your elbows to properly stare at him. 

“A little, but you deserved it don’t you think?” Jungkook didn’t want to tease you too much, he just wanted to get even for the past two weeks. “You could have had me between your thighs every single night if you would’ve said something soon, so I think you can be patient.”

A firm kiss is pressed to your swollen clit and it makes your whole body shudder, your head dropping back as you take a deep breath to control yourself. “I can’t be patient Kook,” you whine, head leveling back out to give him the most convincing stare you can muster. There's that crease between your brows that he likes when you pinch them together, hands gently raking through his hair, teeth pillowing out your lower lip as you bite down onto it. 

“Please, you can torture me later if you want but not now.” Your words have him cocking up his brow, hands once again gripping the meat of your thighs before he crawls back up your body. The feeling of his chain dragging up your skin has you shivering, breath catching in your throat when he hovers inches above you once more. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before his hand slips between your thighs again. A groan reaches his ears as his fingers circle your clit, covered in your arousal and his saliva, gliding with ease as he works you back to your ruined orgasm. 

His lips find yours, swallowing down the moan you let out when he quickens his pace. You can taste yourself on his tongue, tangling with yours with more urgency than before, messy and desperate in a way that had more arousal gushing out of you. The earlier pleasure reignites inside you, your hands sliding around his neck to keep him close, kissing him with fervor, quiet moans and whimpers slipping past between each smack of your lips. 

“Jungkook,” you barely manage to squeal, a few more flicks needed to finally push you over the edge. Your lips are slick with spit as you pull back, jaw slack as you lose yourself in the feeling, and Jungkook easily bookmarks this into his brain to go back to and daydream of whenever he’s bored at work. Your eyes are squeezed shut as the feeling flows through you, not able to see how Jungkook stares at you in awe. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers, slowly pulling his hand away when you keen at the sensitivity, thighs twitching on the sheets as the pleasure rolls through you in waves. You’re looking up just in time to see him slip his messy fingers into his mouth, tongue licking them clean and savoring the taste of you. Just as he slides them back out, your fingers wrap around his wrist and lead them directly into your mouth, sinking onto them with your eyes locked on his own. 

Jungkook’s cock jumps in its confines when you suck, tip of your tongue circling his fingertips before popping them back out with a smirk. There’s a brief moment of shock on his features before he’s jumping into action, quickly unbuttoning his jeans in haste that left you giggling on your sheets. 

“What happened to patience?” you tease, laughing harder when he pauses with one foot stuck in the hole of his jeans, a playful glare thrown your way. 

“Oh, now you want patience?” He kicks his pants the rest of the way off, slowly shuffling towards you as he stands beside the bed in just his boxers. Your hands make grabby motions for him, reaching for the waistband of his underwear to tug them down, licking your lips over as his cock springs out. It bobs in the air for a second, thick and heavy, precum collecting at the tip with the prettiest veins on the underside of it. Of course Jungkook and his pretty privilege would have a dick worthy of leaving you speechless. 

Jungkook allows you to ogle at him, confidently wrapping his palm around the base of his cock, hissing slightly at the sensation as he looks down at it, allowing spit to accumulate behind his lips before a string of it escapes and lands right onto his length to help the glide of his palm. Your eyes widen at the sight, hand replacing his as he guides your motions, giving an experimental squeeze and enjoying how his abs tense up. 

“I’ve been patient for a long time Y/N. You said you want me right?” You’re nodding instantly, eyes looking away from his shiny length to stare up at him. “How do you want me?”

“Jungkook, just get over here.” He doesn’t resist when you let go of his cock, hands gripping his arm to yank him back onto the bed in a clumsy heap. His legs are a tangled mess, nearly ramming his forehead with yours from the force, shared laughter filling the air as you situate yourself. Jungkook had pictured this a thousand times and this is exactly how he imagined it, full of soft kisses, hushed laughter and goofy smiles, playfulness mixed in with lust all coming together perfectly to make the two of you. 

As he settles between your thighs, your sodden folds inches from his length, you can see the look on his face as his eyes glance in between both of your nightstands. Already knowing the question that was about to spill out, you beat him to the punch. “You don’t need one, if you don’t want to. I’m on birth control, and haven’t been with anyone since…” you trail off, not needing to specify.

Jungkook tries not to look too excited, really, but it’s hard. Every one of his lewd fantasies had involved being able to feel you entirely, and if your thoughts from that night were anything to go by, you definitely want the same. It takes him a second to speak, having to swallow properly to prevent himself from choking on his saliva and embarrassing himself in front of you. “I’m clean, I promise.”

“I trust you,” you smile, biting down onto your bottom lip as he fists his cock, slowly leading it to your dripping center. His free hand rests on your inner thigh, softly palming the skin as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscles and into your heat. With his gaze locked down to where you connect, he sees inch by inch sink into you, finally bottoming out with a shared gasp.

Jungkook leans over you properly now, hand sliding up to lace with yours as the other rests beside your head, just taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You welcome the stretch, the curve of his length inside you, how he cages you in with his body, eyes full of want staring directly at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze because he knows he can’t properly form a sentence right now. 

“Fuck me, please.” With his hips pressed flush against yours, he’s slowly inching back, letting you get used to his size with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before he’s rearing back entirely, thrusting forward with a wet squelch, corner of his lips curling up into a smirk when you moan out his name. Your hand curls around his shoulder, fingers digging into his back to keep yourself steady from the force of his hips. 

Each time the head of his cock would nudge against your bundle of nerves, your nails would sink into his skin, leaving half moon indents that left him groaning in pleasure. Jungkook hadn’t outright told you, but it had become increasingly obvious that he has a slight kink for pain, practically mewling above you as you scratch his back, fucking you with more determination than before. 

“You feel so good,” he rasps, slotting his lips with yours in a messy kiss. The back of your headboard starts to rattle against the wall, bouncing back in time with his hips, and it brings you back to the filthy thoughts you had before. How often you’d hear the same sounds on the opposite side, mixing in with the sharpness of skin connecting together, and you want it. So badly.

“J-jungkook,” you breathe out, letting him pepper more kisses onto you, hips never slowing down. “Can you do something for me?” The tone you use, coated in sugar so sweet he couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

“Anything.”

It’s hard to concentrate on anything else while his cock continues to fuck into you, turning your mind into mush each time he sunk all the way in. He can see the way you try to focus, eyes falling shut with the cutest pout on your kiss swollen lips, finally grabbing onto the reigns of your mind as you spit it out. “Wanna feel you—fuck—spank me, please.”

Only then do his hips slow down, cock throbbing inside of you, fighting the urge to cum before fulfilling your request. The only confirmation that he was agreeing, wholeheartedly, comes when he pulls out of you, moving too quickly for you to protest at the loss of contact. The room spins for a second as his hands grip onto your hips and flip you over with ease, palms gripping the globes of your ass and softly patting them with a chuckle.

“Of course baby,” he murmurs, hooking his arm underneath your stomach to haul you up onto your knees, allowing you to steady yourself before he’s sliding into you once again. The change in position has you keening, his cock sinking deeper than before, the wetness dripping out of you helping him maintain the earlier pace he had. Your hands fist the sheets beneath you, back arching in ecstasy as he hits your g-spot with precision, a tiny shriek of his name making him smile.

Jungkook keeps you on edge, strong hands gripping the skin of your hips tightly, mouth dropping open while he pants at the way you pulse around his cock, leaving it coated in your slick. His hand slides down to your ass, a gentle touch being your only warning before he’s pulling his hand back and delivering a swift slap to your skin. Your reaction is immediate, an unrestrained moan sounding like music to his ears. The sharp sting spreads directly to your core, your head bowing forward as you mentally beg him for more, your wish being granted seconds later when he repeats it on the other side.

If the wet sounds of his cock fucking you weren’t filthy enough, the added slap of his palm across your ass definitely topped it off. Jungkook had never seen you so needy, thighs coated in your arousal, gushing around him each time he spanked you until you were creaming his cock. The greedy way your walls suck him in, wanting him closer, deeper than ever, left him mesmerized. 

His hand soothes the dull throb on your skin, a trembling breath reaching his ears as he leans over your back, lips kissing up your spine up until reaching your shoulder. Hot pants of breath hit your skin, making you shiver as his lips trail along the edge of your ear. “Feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you mewl, voice trembling from the pleasure, rutting your hips in time with his. 

Jungkook’s way of love was a breath of fresh air for you, rough enough to exhilarate you, the force of his hips leaving you scrambling for purchase to prevent you from face planting onto the sheets, gripping onto your hair and tugging it back with enough force to make your body tingle. But it was intertwined with adoration, sweet praise whispered into your ear, lacing his fingers with yours to let you feel secure.

“You’re never getting rid of me baby,” he groans out. The low rasp in his voice makes you tremble, neck straining from his grip in your hair but the burn feels too good to pull away. His small confession has your heart skipping, eyes slipping shut to bask in the overwhelming feeling surrounding you.

“Good,” you manage to pant, “would never dream of it.” After four years of friendship, the beginning stages of getting to know each other, figuring out the right ways to flow with your different personalities, it's all out of the way now, so it’s incredibly easy for you to picture a steady future with him. The breakfast gossiping, shameless club outings, chaotic game nights with snacks thrown at each other, you want everything you already have with him and more. What you have, so rooted in sincerity, built off mutual respect for each other, blossoming into love so pure, you can’t imagine having this with anyone else.

“Y/N,” he gasps, the pulsing of your walls bringing him closer to his climax. “I’m close.”

You can only hum in agreement, burying your face into your pillow when he releases the grip he has in your hair, nipples rubbing against the sheets in time with his thrusts, the sensitivity sending sparks throughout you. Both his hands grip your hips again, dimpling the skin as he quickens his pace, the tantalizing roll of his hips intent to send you over before him. His eyes trail over the curve of your back, how you arch it further to feel more of him, sliding down to your ass, seeing the way it bounces back with each snap of his hips, how you weakly rut back onto him, pussy clamping around his length as your orgasm approached. 

Jungkook slides his hand around you, trailing across your tummy before slipping between your thighs to the spot you needed him most. Even with your face buried in the sheets, the moan you let out is loud enough for Jungkook to hear perfectly, body shuddering as he flicks across your clit in tight circles.  

“Kook, I’m cumming—fuck,” you shout out, white heat enveloping your body as you get sent over the edge. Your mind blanks for a minute, the intensity of your orgasm crashing over you so suddenly, making your limbs tense up while every nerve ending lights up. The only thing you can think of is him, chanting out your name while you pulse around him, sweet words coaxing you through your high, thumb rubbing along the skin of your hips as he never slows his pace. 

As he fucks you through it, groaning out at how tight your walls are around him, you have to turn your head to gasp in a breath, face feeling hot from it all. You can feel how sweaty your skin has become, the back of your neck feeling sticky as your turn to get a glimpse of him, body still shuddering from the aftershocks. 

Jungkook doesn’t have a care for his own volume now, moaning unabashedly as he pistons his hips into you with less grace than before. The soft mewls of overstimulation you let out just bring him closer to his release, thrusts getting sloppier as the pleasure takes over him. 

“Fuck, baby-” he grunts out, mouth dropping open as he moans even louder, finally falling apart. He pushes further into you, head falling forward as his hips press flushed against your ass, warm spurts of his cum filling you up in a way that fulfills your dirtiest fantasies. A few more shallow thrusts has the two of you gasping, hearts pounding in your chests, coming down slowly as he finally stills.

A serene silence falls over you, the movie long turned off in the background, only the low glow of the television letting you know it was still on. With great hesitation, Jungkook finally pulls out of you, gulping when he sees the thick globs of cum spill from your core, dripping down your thighs before landing on the sheets in a sinful mess. Your sheets are well and truly ruined, Jungkook would honestly suggest tossing them in the trash judging by the damp spot directly beneath you.

With a small groan, you’re flopping fully onto your stomach, thighs no longer able to keep yourself up, the exhaustion creeping up on you. Jungkook chuckles when he hears you, soothing your back with a gentle massage. “You’re not sleeping in here babe.”

“Why not,” you slur, cheek pressed against your pillow, eyes already shut. All you wanted to do was lay here, preferably with his arms wrapped around you, but Jungkook clearly has other plans. 

“Because it’s disgusting,” he laughs, giving you a few more seconds of rest before he’s moving around. The dip in the bed lets you know he’s gotten off, one eye peeking open to search for him, seeing him gathering his belongings from the floor.

“Where are you going?”

He shimmies back into his clothes with a grimace, gathering your own items before approaching you once more. “We are going next door and sleeping in my totally clean bed, c’mon.”

You only put up a fight for a second, secretly enjoying the way he helps you get dressed in your earlier clothes, heart swelling in your chest at how domestic it all feels. The mess in your room would have to be dealt with another day, the only important item being the ice cream that finds its way back into the freezer as you both head out of your apartment and swiftly enter his next door.

He’s just as delicate and careful in the shower, taking turns cleaning each other, large hands gripping your ass and giggling like a child when you wince at the small throb of pain you feel. Soft kisses are shared under the showerhead, warm water soothing your body as the room fogs up, sweet confessions scribbled on the glass in his messy writing, topped off with a heart. Jungkook stops you before you can wipe it away, shyly telling you that he’d like to see it reappear the next time he showers.

His bedroom was one you weren’t too familiar with, used to lounging in his living room the most, so as he settles into his bed after getting cozy in his pajamas, you wait for him to call you over before joining him. The coolness of his sheets has you sighing, snuggling into his side with a smile on your lips, one that Jungkook sees as he stares down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Seeing you draped in his clothes, cuddled up beside him in a way you’ve never done before, makes him feel like a giddy teenager. 

“Can I be honest?” he wonders, arm wrapping around you to pull you even closer to him. When you hum in confirmation, he laughs sheepishly. “I thought you were going to friendship dump me today.”

“What, why?”

Your head bobs up as he shrugs his shoulders. “The way you were acting reminded me of the last time you told me you wanted to focus on your relationship. I was just scared I was going to lose you again.”

The tone he uses makes your heart ache, the same guilt you felt these past few days coming back when you put yourself in his shoes. You had no idea that the way you were acting would affect him this way, never once imagining that he thought you would cut off this friendship while you were just coming to terms with the fact that you harbored strong feelings for him. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you sigh, palm resting on his chest, feeling each beat of his heart, no longer racing like before, confident and steady in it’s pace because he knows you’re not going anywhere. “I’m stupid, and freaked out after what I did, and just needed to gather my thoughts before saying anything.”

He cranes his head away from you, a confused look on his face. “After what you did? What did you do?”

Fuck.

“Uhm,” you start with a strained laugh, refusing to look up at him out of embarrassment, but the truth has to come out so you power through it.  “So, the night of the date, I sort of got home earlier than I told you I did.”

His eyes narrow at you, refusing to give anything away before he knew where this was going. “Okay, go on.”

“And I sort of heard you through the walls.” You look up at him now, your guilty stare spelling it out for him. His eyes widen before he can conceal his surprise, cheeks warming up instantly because oh boy, he knew exactly where this was going. “And then, I sort of...joined.”

“You lied to me!” he shouts, shocked smile on his face as he recalls the way you had replied to his texts, telling him you had just gotten home and going the extra mile to say you were in a totally different room when in reality, you were sprawled out in your bed after just getting off to the sound of him.

Filthy. And also kind of hot. Jungkook was definitely into that, something he’ll totally proposition you into doing again because why not.  

“I know! I couldn’t help it, it was so hot, and I felt so guilty. But, you’re technically the reason why my orgasm gave me my epiphany and let me realize I really do like you. So, I think I did us both a favor by being a dirty liar.” He’s laughing instantly, fingers gripping your cheeks to turn your head up, planting a firm kiss onto your lips obnoxiously.

“Alright, you’re forgiven. Plus, consider us even because I have definitely heard you getting off on your own plenty of times too.” A squeal of surprise fills the air as you swat at his chest, burying your face into his shirt and feeling the rumble of his laughter. It really wasn’t ever intentional. The walls are thin, you weren’t exactly quiet, and he couldn’t just lay there and ignore it. So call him an opportunist, or a pervert, because you were one too. 

Jungkook is cheeky though, knowing how to get under your skin in the best way, and you can already tell you’re in for a ride when he gets close to your ear and whispers, “You wanna show me how you did it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you snort, peering up at him with mischief in your eyes.

“You did say I could torture you later.” He smiles innocently, fingers pinching your chin as he kisses you again. “It’s later.”

The sweet laughter that escapes you makes his heart skip a beat, still not able to come to terms that this was happening and wasn’t some dream of his that he’d wake up from. He kisses the tops of your cheeks first, then your nose, before reaching your lips, his hand gently caressing your skin. Jungkook had no intention of torturing you tonight, knowing how tired you typically were after work on a normal day, and after drawing two orgasms out of you that left you shaking, he knows how close you are to sleep with the way your eyes droop. 

“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on crushes and love?” he mumbles against your lips, inching back to stare down at you. 

“I’m glad I stopped looking for it in the wrong places.” Your hands wrap around his neck, toying with his hair before pulling him back to you, reattaching your lips because you just couldn’t seem to get enough of him. 

Every single moment you shared, from moving in and awkwardly trying to get to know each other, the ups and downs of failed relationships, the push that started it all at the club, and every almost moment in between brought you full circle to right now. There probably won’t be a moment where you don’t wish you had done this sooner, worked past your worry of ruining a good friendship in fear of what could happen, but the past helped mold you into who you are, strengthening your relationship to be the way it is now.

Right now had you thinking of the future, and there was nothing more exciting than that.

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