#<-complely genuine

[pseudonemisis]

Neon fruit monster bones :)

I saw your ask and this is immediately what I thought, since I've gotten three consecutive fren shaped dinosaur bones. the one thing everyone agrees on is that I am full of bones<3

[arnault]

look away

[thespoonisvictory]

the incredible sinking lorelais is one of the best episodes of tv ever written

[osachiyo]

ʚ Morning Sweetness ɞ chuuya nakahara

➣ a/n: this was supposed to be a short drabble but I kind of got carried away.. not proof read so there might be some spelling errors. happy reading and I hope y'all enjoy 💙 (mdni)

Sunday mornings with chuuya are sweet and romantic. You woke up first today, your legs tangled with his and arms wrapped around each other. His head was on your chest, listening to your calming heartbeats as he slept like a baby. You could hear him softly snoring, some drool escaping his lips. God he was adorable. You tried to move, but he kept you in place, murmuring something ineligible in his sleep. You tried to move again, his eye peaking open to look at you sleepily, " 's too early.." You yawned, stretching your limbs before replying, "baby, it's 10 am.." He only sighed and nuzzled his face further into your bare chest, "mm.. don't wanna get up." You gasped dramatically, "you're the one who fucked the living daylights of me last night, mister! even after I passed out! and you have the audacity to compl− mmph−!" Chuuya slapped his hand on your mouth, effectively shutting you up as he glared at you with flushed cheeks, "I know what we did last night. you don't have to remind me!" He scoffed, gulping when his eyes land on the red and purple bruises on your neck and chest, even your shoulders weren't spared. He could feel his face heating up thinking about what occured between you two last night. He glanced at you and his heart immediately skipped a beat; the morning sun highlighted your features perfectly, casting an ethereal glow on you, your eyes holding so much love and adoration, a soft smile graced your lips, still swollen from last night. "you look so pretty when you smile.." He muttered under his breath, a hand cupping your cheek. His heartbeat sped up when you leaned into his touch, looking at him through your lashes, "are you saying I'm ugly whenever I don't smile?" You joked, earning a pinch on your cheek as he huffed, "dont put words in my mouth!" You rolled your eyes, playfully mocking him. "why you little−!" He growled, tackling you down and pinning you to the satin sheets, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. "haven't learned your lesson from last night?" You pouted, struggling in his hold but to no use, "hey! don't spank me again, okay?! my ass is still sore..." He laughed, kissing your cheek and smoothing the furrow between your brows with a thumb, "yeah? my baby wants to be treated like a little princess now? I can definitely manage that," he smirked, taking your lips in for a sweet kiss. You hummed, hands reaching up to play with the soft ginger hair on his nape, making him moan lowly into the kiss.

His hands travelled further, reaching up your bare sides before cupping your breasts, which were still sore and sensitive from last night's rendezvous with your beloved boyfriend. Instead of squeezing and slapping them harshly, his hands caressed them gently, smoothing over your hardened nipples and smirking when you moan into the kiss. "was I too rough last night?" He whispered against your lips, voice soft with genuine concern. Your heart fluttered, even if he fucked you like you were some cheap whore, he was still your Chuuya. The one who loved you more than he loved himself, you were the love of his life, after all. "a little.. but I liked it," you reassured, bumping your nose against his, making him laugh. "I'll make it up to you, sweet girl," he smiled, moving your hair out of the way before placing gentle kisses on your neck, kissing over every bruise and mark he left the night before.

You hummed, playing with his hair as he kissed and softly nipped at your chest, his hard-on resting against your thigh. You bounced your thigh gently, his breath hitching as you stimulate his cock. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you in place while he kissed every inch of your upper body, slowly making his way down to your lower region until he was face-level with your dripping cunt. "such a pretty pussy," he breathed, hot breath hitting your sensitive folds as you shivered. His tongue darted out to lick your soft mound, coating your inner lips with his saliva before laying the muscle flat against your cunt, feeling your pussy throb on his tongue. His hands gripped the meaty flesh of your thighs, gently rubbing his thumbs over the bruises left on your skin.

You softly bit your bottom lip when his lips wrapped around your clit, swirling over the sensitive pearl with his eager tongue. Your fingers were tangled in his silky ginger hair, jaw going slack as he worked you to your sweet release with his tongue, nose bumping against your clit every time he pushed his tongue into you, savouring your addicting taste on his tongue. Blue eyes observed every reaction you made from his ministrations, lewd slurping and sucking noises bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom.

you could feel your orgasm approaching, the scorching heat in your lower tummy growing hotter, pussy finally gushing all over his face. It wasn't an overwhelming feeling like the ones you've had the night before, but still felt euphoric. He groaned, happily gulping your juices down, licking your pussy clean. He pulled away once he was satisfied, plopping next to you, chest heaving as he flashed you a cocky grin, "felt good, yeah?" You were still catching your breath, smiling at him, "so good, baby." He was about to wrap an arm around you when you got up, crawling on top of him, eye-level with his raging boner. "what're you−!" He gasped when your lips wrapped around his tip before pulling away with a 'pop!' "you do want me to return the favour, don't you, darling?"

©ambrosiaa— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, likes and reblogs are very appreciated♡

TAGS »»————> @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie

@lxverss @lynxxyyy @nanamibeloved

@sorahatsumi @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @satohruu @honeycombflowers @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @poisonedslop @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @boba-is-good @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter @4xxxv @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @solandiss @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @qqingque @lunaeheroine18 @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @leftrunawaybanana @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @otakudul @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[ponderingmoonlight]

I LOVED the jjk men sharing a bed! How would they react if their confident s/o suddenly turned shy because of this compliment? Bonus points if they (jjk men) don't express their love verbally much and also a little shy. So, how about Yuuta, Geto and Megumi? If you write more, can you also maybe add Gojo? Thank you so much!

Please forgive me for not adding Gojo, the Megumi part just escalated too quickly and since I'm having a little bit of a Gojo addiction, one fanfic without him won't hurt 🤍 Let me know what you think!

JJK men turning the usual confident reader shy

Pairings: Yuta x reader; Geto x reader; Megumi x reader (fem is mentioned)

Warnings: tw for Megumi's part regarding body image (contains insults), reader doubts herself

Yuta Okkotsu

You look absolutely neck breaking gorgeous in your summer dress, body hugged in just the right spots. How is this the first time Yuta has ever seen you in something apart from your uniform? Unbelievable, how unacceptable.

“Hey Yuta! Do you even recognize me?”

Your sweet voice rings through his head while you wave at him with your breathtaking smile plastered on your face. Oh, he is definitely recognizing you.

He can feel his face heat up immediately as you start walking towards him, your partially exposed legs moving so elegant that he can feel his knees go weak. Of course he was always very aware of the fact that you are a striking beautiful person, but that summer dress does things to him he can’t quite comprehend.

“Pretty unusual to see me in something else than that uniform, huh? I thought that a change of scenery doesn’t hurt and it’s my day off”, you explain briefly with your firm but tender voice.

Pure confidence is dripping from your features, it’s like you know that the world belongs to you. Well, his world does in fact. And at the moment it feels like this world spins a thousand times faster than usual.

“You look like an angel.”

The second the words slip out of his tongue, he knows that he’s fucked. Yuta never complimented you, always admired you in silence. Why did this stupid words leave his mouth? You must think he’s a freak, that he’s a disgusting pervert-

“W-what?”, you stutter.

His eyes dart towards you in surprise. There you stand, completely flustered with your cheeks redden and eyes widen in a way Yuta has never seen before. Your usual composed facial features are completely screwed up, your hand covers your mouth in a desperate attempt to hide your…embarrassment.

Are you actually shy because he complimented you?

“I’m so sorry, (y/n)! I didn’t mean to irritate you”, he babbles out.

Oh, he screwed up. You’ll probably never talk to him again, he ruined not only your friendship, but made you feel uncomfortable too. But you are so precious, how was he supposed to contain himself when you come here on this lovely summer day, looking absolutely stunning in that dress?

“I…It’s just…I guess no one ever said something so genuinely nice to me”, you mutter.

You know by the glitter of purity in his wide-open orbs that Yuta truly meant what he said. But that something so nice would come out his mouth…Of course this wasn’t the first compliment you ever got, but oh how sweet it was. Not only was his lovelier than any before, but it came from him.

Yuta. The boy you’ve been admiring since he joined Jujutsu High. The boy you’ve always thought saw nothing but an ordinary girl in you.

“That’s a shame. Honestly, I thing you are one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. Not only externally, but everything about you.”

“Stop”, you hush, hiding your face behind your hands while grinning like an idiot.

Suddenly, you feel as insecure as never before, completely thrown off track by his words. It is a little ridiculous to be honest. After all, Yuta is a nice boy and his words were simple. But you can’t remember a single time he ever complimented your looks. Basically everyone else did, whether Gojo, Panda or even Megumi. But Yuta…hearing those sweet words from Yuta’s mouth is something completely different and forces even your confident walls down.

“I’m so sorry if I made you feel bad”, Yuta apologizes.

“Feel bad? I think I never felt so good in my whole life. You are just so…sweet. Thank you.”

Your words catch him off guard and make his very own cheeks redden in an instant. You just called him sweet. (y/n), the girl he always turns his head for, the girl that lingers through his mind all day, just called him sweet.

“Uh…Thank you, (y/n)”, he mutters, heart almost beating out of his chest.

“Hey, would you mind to…To grab something to eat with me?”, you questions shyly while mindlessly tucking a strand of behind your ear.

“Yeah…sure! Let’s go!”

What an absolutely stunning way to start a day. With a new summer dress, a compliment of none other than Yuta and him by your side.

Suguru Geto

He can’t help but stare at you while you tear apart your teacher with nothing but logical arguments. It is threatening and scary to be honest, the way you carry yourself with so much pride and wisdom in your eyes. But Geto is just so mesmerized by the way your beautiful mouth works wonders, leaving everyone in the room in complete silence – even Satoru.

“You’re absolutely annoying, (y/n). But fine. We’ll do it your way, then. Now get off my sight”, Masamichi Yaga hums, rubbing his temples in complete annoyance.

With a curt bow you leave the classroom, a relieved smile plastered on your features. He doesn’t know what got into him, but the second your hair waves a last goodbye, he stands up and follows you down the hallway.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

“Oh, Geto, how nice to see you! Are you doing well? I heard your last mission was quite difficult to handle.”

There you stand with your piercing gaze darted towards him, gun of a mouth draped into a gentle smile. God, why do you have to be so gorgeous? Why is it so hard for him to keep his composure whenever you’re around? You’re just so damn strong, confidence dripping from every pore of your skilled self. Geto admired you the second you joined Jujutsu High, the first time you outsmarted Satoru and your words of wisdom that helped all of them through tough missions over and over. While he doesn’t consider himself an introvert, your presence always made his knees go weak, heart beating out of his chest. Geto tried to stay professional, to ignore the stinging presence of your striking looks and brain, but today…Today he can’t contain himself anymore.

“You’re really making a difference, (y/n). You know that?”

Your heart stops for a second, eyes widen in disbelief. You are known for your arguments and tactical skills, but Geto’s words… His oh so sweet words repeat themselves over and over again in your head. Someone might think you heard praises on a daily basis, whenever about your looks or your brain. But no. Nobody has actually told you that you matter, than your impact is really making a difference. Especially hearing this from Geto’s mouth, who’s an outstanding jujutsu sorcerer and never really complimented you in any way makes your heart drop.

“Do you…really mean it?”

Why is your voice suddenly so quiet and fragile? And why the hell are tears starting to sting in your eyes? You never cry, after all weeping doesn’t solve any problems. But his words aren’t just a random compliment, they touched your soul and filled you with love.

“Of course I mean it…I should have told you way sooner, but I really admire you. I don’t want to imagine where we would be without you…Where I would be without you. I just thought that you should know that…”

And there it is, his signature smile. The smile that could end wars with how welcoming it is.

“I didn’t know that I needed to hear something like this”, you mutter while whipping your now falling tears away with your sleeve.

Geto stops in his tracks, arms embracing you in a tight hug before he is able to stop himself.

“Don’t cry because of a simple compliment that was long overdue. I should have told you that way sooner. To be exact, every one of us should do that”, he whispers softly.

“Thank you Geto. I will always think of you when I’m doubting myself”, you sniffle, avoiding his gaze at any cost.

God, how embarrassing. But what a sweet moment this is at the same time. After all, Geto doesn’t compliment and hold you in his arms on a regular basis.

Megumi Fushiguro

It was never your style to cry about anything or anyone. But his words. His cruel words repeat themselves over and over inside your head.

I always thought you’re a little ugly anyway.

Maybe lose some weight before you talk to me again.

C’mon (y/n), she’s just prettier than you.

You should have known better. You should have known that your now ex-boyfriend means nothing but trouble, that he was never really in love and spit his venomous words exclusively to hit you where it hurts.

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re sitting on the stairs on this lovely summer day while crying your eyes out. Maybe you really aren’t good enough. Your nose is too big, your eyes are too small, your face is a little too round to be lovely. And your body. God, at the moment you truly hate the way your own frame looks.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here, (y/n).”

Your body tenses up immediately while you try to wipe away your falling tears, hiding your face in sheer embarrassment. No, what on earth is Megumi Fushiguro doing here right now? You definitely don’t want him to see you cry, to admit that your ex was trash like he always said.

“Are you alright?”

His nearing footsteps vibrate through the stairs, making you fall into panic mode in an instant. No, please. You really want to be alone right now, you-

“Hey, what happened?”, his soft voice questions.

His long legs come to a stand to your left.

“None of your business, Fushiguro. I’m not in the mood to get picked at by you”, you mumble.

The second he sits down next to you, you immediately turn your body away from him. No way in hell is he seeing you cry today.

“To get picked at by me? You should know me better, (y/n). I can see clearly that you aren’t fine”, he responses, his tone showing his disappointment without a glimpse in his dark blue orbs.

Your eyes begin to water again at the sound of his voice.

“It seems like all I am is a disappointment these days I guess.”

He shifts his weight beside you, body drawing closer to yours. You are such a confident and outgoing person, it doesn’t suit you at all to sit on the stairs and cry. Something that really hurt must have happened. His features darken, hands balling into fists. Oh, he knows exactly what has happened.

“Did he say that, (y/n)? Did your boyfriend say such things to you?”

Megumi really tries to stay calm, to let his voice sound soft and unbothered, but he really wants to punch this jerk right now. It seems like he never really understood what a breathtaking gorgeous girl you are, that you could do so much better than this.

“He isn’t my boyfriend anymore”, you reply, your voice more bitter than you actually feel about that fact.

The relationship’s end isn’t what makes you feel this way. After all, you always knew that this was in no was a forever thing, that it was more like a pastime. But his cruel words simply leave you completely shattered, your heart scarred so deep that you can’t ignore it.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You snort while side-eyeing Megumi.

“Sorry? Don’t be ridiculous. You never missed a chance to pick on me about him”, you comment dryly.

Oh, if you only knew. Megumi would never admit it, but he simply hated the idea of you having a boyfriend like him – a boyfriend who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve it when he could. Megumi would give you the world, he would carry you on his hands through every highs and lows.

But he would never admit that to you. Instead, he makes stupid comments about every little thing you do in a frantic attempt to keep himself together. Because if you ever catch a glimpse of his true feelings towards you, you’d probably never talk to him again.

“Might be true, but you’re feeling bad already.”

Not this time though. Not when you’re sitting next to him while being a complete mess, not when your puffy cheeks are proof enough than you sat here and cries for a while.

“You boys just never fail to hurt me I guess.”

“I would never hurt you”, he responses immediately, tongue faster than his mind.

Slowly, you turn your body to face him and his heart drops. You look nothing like yourself anymore, heartbroken in every way. What the hell happened?

“I couldn’t care less about the fact that he ended things. But I just feel like it was my fault partially. I guess I wasn’t attractive enough for him”, you mumble through your veil of tears.

Megumi can’t help but stare at you in disbelief. Did you really just say that? Did that jerk make you believe that you aren’t beautiful, that you aren’t worth his puny self? How ridiculous to even think that.

But he can tell by the hurt in your eyes that it must be true. Thick anger begins to rise inside Megumi.

“Did he say that, (y/n)? Did he say anything that implied that you’re not good looking?”, he asks with empty voice.

You cleverly avoid his gaze as you nod carefully. Megumi’s world stops for a moment. It’s so ridiculous, so unbelievable wrong for him that someone called the most beautiful human being on earth anything less than that.

“You have to be kidding, right? Because all I’m seeing is that you’re absolutely stunning. I could watch you for a lifetime, (y/n). You are so breathtaking that it hurts, everyone turns their heads after you. Don’t get me started on the way you are probably the only one that looks good in ratty pajamas, your stunning hair, well-formed hips or breathtaking eyes. For real, I’m convinced that all love songs have to be about you. Don’t let a jerk like him bring you down, don’t you dare to believe a single word of the bullshit he said, you heard me?”

He breathes heavy while all you can do is stare at him. No more tears fall from your cheeks, no more sniffles are heard. No, complete silence hangs between the two of you while Megumi immediately regrets his words. Maybe he took it too far, you must think that he’s a total freak for saying such things.

“Is this…really how you feel about me?”, you softly ask, your arms crossed in front of your chest.  

Fuck, your body immediately slips away a few inches, your hands feverishly playing with your hair. But something about your face changes. Is this a slight blush creeping up your puffy cheeks? And it almost looks like a small smile is forming on your delicate lips.

“I always felt that way about you, (y/n). Don’t think I’d made things up just to make you feel better”, he mutters while scratching his head.

“Oh”, you simply blur out while swallowing heavy.

Why the hell is he always acting this dumb when it comes to you? Megumi should know better, he is very aware of the fact that you and him will never be a thing, that he simply isn’t in your league. But now he probably ruined your friendship too.

Suddenly, your arms grip his tightly while you press your face against his shoulder. His heart drops into his pants, eyes wide open at this outburst. The two of you didn’t even share a hug until now.

“Thank you, Megumi. Your words mean the world to me”, you cry out, grabbing his arms even tighter than before.

Is he allowed to…touch you? Carefully, he places his hand on your back and begins to rub it in small circles.

“And you mean the world to me”, he speaks out, more to himself than to you.

[99pluto]

'*•.¸♡ Passenger princess♡¸.•*'

Pairing: Jihoon/Woozi x reader

Tags: smut, OS, wrote this because i did a swipe game on tiktok, unedited, boyfriend!Jihoon

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: This ain't good, but Jihoon is a passenger princess tsundere, whom i am never forgiving for being a fake cutie patootie how the f is he so hot ???? Anyways stream Seventeenth Heaven, i'm obsessed with Monster.

─────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────

-"Come on Hoon, i see your friends more than you do, Soonyoung was so excited when I told him we were going.

Your boyfriend just grunts as an answer to your statement. He’s nested himself in the comfortable passenger seat of your BMW M8. The music of your playlist softly playing in the background while you drive in the city by night makes you forget your long day, you just love to drive and your boyfriend doesn’t, you’re basically the perfect match.

-I’m busy working, he mumbles.

-Yeah so am I babe, but I happen to find the time to like, live you know.

He grumbles something inaudible, and you peak at him, he’s wearing a big hoodie but his arms and chest make it look like a regular sized hoodie. He looks damn hot without even trying, he catches you glancing and shoots you one of those smiles, he knows. You swallow back the need to sit on his lap and kiss him passionately while having your hands in his hair, you can’t remember how long it has been since the two of you had plans outside, and indeed, Jihoon had been so busy with work and so did you, you feel like you haven’t had a date in ages.

Before he says anything, you glance back at him and state:

-You’re hot.

He still has that petty smile on his face, and you want to erase it one way or another.

-You’re cute.

His answer shoots some anger in your veins. Cute ? You were wearing the smallest black dress you had found in your closet, your ass was in direct contact with the seat, you looked smoking hot, your boobs and collarbones out, but he said “cute”. Yeah, that was Jihoon, a fucking tease.

You tighten your grip on the steering wheel and press on the gas pedal.

Jihoon holds the door for you to enter the restaurant, you approach the biggest table with fourteen seats. A few whistles greet you.

-Damn [Y/N], leave some for others.

You sit next to Mingyu who complimented you with the sweetest smile, Jihoon sits in front of you, next to Joshua.

-You’re bringing the most beautiful lady of the city to the restaurant and that’s how you show up Jihoon ? Asks Joshua.

Jihoon looks at you with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

-Yeah.

-You’re strong soldier.

-Y’all overdoing it guys, you chuckle.

And the twelve men start speaking all together, arguing in an angry noise that you’re wrong.

You did want to be pretty and hot for your man because you were going out, but you didn’t expect to be the center of the attention for so long and to the whole group.

Luckily the waiter interrupted all of it so you would all order drinks. You ask for sparkling water with a slice of lemon.

-You’re not having some champagne with us [Y/N] ? Asks Mingyu.

Jihoon’s soft voice raises.

-She’s driving.

Mingyu looks at you and you give him a small smile before pointing at your boyfriend.

-Passenger princess.

-As if you’d let me touch your BM-

-Never.

He scoffs, satisfied with your answer, knowing he was right.

There is some tension between you two, you can’t figure out what Jihoon is thinking since your brief conversation in the car.

Mingyu’s arm sits lazily on top of your chair while you sip your water and chat with Joshua and him.

-Hey what’s your perfume ? Is it a new one ? Asks the tall guy next to you, he’s close and towering you although he’s sitting, the height gap is still huge.

-Yeah I bought it last week, Zadig & Voltaire, I thought it was a refreshing smell.

-It is, it really suits you.

He gives you a genuine smile and you feel yourself blush a bit.

-You really are gorgeous tonight [Y/N], if I had known I would have dressed a bit better because you really make us look like fools, compliments Joshua with his chin on his hand.

-Stop it guys you’re going to make me blush, plus you’re talking nonsense, you could dress with a trash bag and still be the hottest guys alive. One day you guys will admit you’re a handsome only group of friends.

Joshua and Mingyu laugh and Mingyu answers.

-Yeah that’s why you fit right in.

You catch the way Jihoon finishes his glass of champagne without his eyes leaving you.

-What’s up with you guys, I’ve never seen you being such flirts.

-Come on, if it’s not us, Jihoon must be telling you all of those things.

You glance back at your boyfriend who looks up at Mingyu.

-By the way, any update on your part Mingyu ? I need to check with Seungcheol too but I’m missing your lyrics for the hip hop unit.

-Ah yeah, I’m nearly done, I’ll send them to you tomorrow, we can soon start recording, I just need to check a few things with Wonwoo.

Jihoon nods and crosses his huge ass arms, you can’t help but stare. He rolled his sleeves and your eyes are glued to his big muscled arms. Your mind goes blank and your thigh press together at the thought of his delicate hands around your throat while he-

You grab Mingyu’s glass and drink half of it at once.

-I need to go to the bathroom.

You stand up quickly without letting anyone time to answer.

You sigh while washing your hands, you were so excited about being with all the boys and your boyfriend tonight but something about the vibe was off for you. Was it Jihoon’s answer to you in the car ? The way he was painfully silent after that ? Were you just being horny and overthinking all of that ? Who knows.

You made your way back to the table and Soonyoung had stolen your seat to talk with Jihoon, he was his usual self, all hype and happy to see his favourite friend. Since your seat was taken, you joined the other part of the group, seating with Seokmin, Junhui and Seungcheol.

Minghao popped his head and just blankly stated the brand of your dress, you nod to him and he give you a wink with a smile.

-My girl got the greatest taste in fashion.

You smile and wink back at him raising Soonyoung’s empty glass to him.

You chat a bit with Junhui and you join Seungcheol’s laughter when Seokmin tells you about some weird encounter on his way to the restaurant. The waiter then comes back for you to order your food and a few minutes later you join your original seat to eat.

Hansol, Joshua, Jihoon and Mingyu are talking about work as you lazily look at your boyfriend being the most talkative he’s been ever since you left the car. Chewing on your pastas you watch Jihoon lean over the table mid-sentence, wipe the pesto off the corner of your lips with his thumb before licking it and continuing what he was saying.

You’re used to this kind of behaviour, sometimes he seems cold but actually he’s caring. He gives you a small wink when Hansol answers him and he smiles at your confused look.

The rest of the dinner goes well, Joshua and Mingyu seem in a hell of a flirty mood and you laugh a lot due to alcohol being heavily involved for them. You’re surprised Jihoon hasn’t said anything about his friends’ behaviour at this point, although they’re his closest friends they’re being heavy on the open flirting literally in front of your boyfriend. After an hour you stopped being caught off guard and you just play along and laugh about it.

-No cuz Jihoon’s so obsessed with masterpieces he had his girl to be one like, is this a kink ? Mingyu asks Joshua.

-I mean man got taste, thanks god he’s working with us.

Joshua uses a serious tone which makes you chuckle.

-Cheers to that.

And that’s how Joshua and Mingyu finish another glass while you’re now laughing, they’re cute and you’re finally having a great time.

-Guys, it was great seeing you again, thanks for tonight, but it’s getting pretty late and [Y/N] is working tomorrow, I’ll see you on Thursday at the studio and tomorrow at the meeting.

Jihoon spoke while slowly getting up. You furrow your brows as you look at him and sigh while the boys complain that it’s too early and they’ve only had seven bottles.

-[Y/N] come on say something you can’t be already leaving !

You shrug and answer Soonyoung.

-Passenger princess here isn’t wrong though.

More complains rise from the table but you’re already gathering your things, you had a good night but you’re still a bit upset with your boyfriend being weird. Mingyu squeezes your forearm and tells you to message the groupchat once safe at home. You smile at him and gives him a peck on the cheek, he returns your smile and you wave goodbye at everyone while two other bottles of alcohol arrive at the table.

Jihoon stops in front of the door and turns to you, he grabs the belt of your coat and closes it, securing your body in the garment. He looks up to meet your eyes and speaks softly.

-It’s gotten real cold, come on.

And he opens the door for you.

You blankly stare at the road, not really knowing what’s going on with Jihoon, so after five minute into a silent drive you give him a quick glance.

-What is it?

His elbow against the passenger’s door and his chin resting on his fist he turns his gaze to you.

-What ?

-What’s with you tonight ? Did you really don’t want to meet them ?

You pause.

-At some point I thought you were enjoying yourself, why are you being weird ?

He just stares at you, you can feel his gaze from the corner of your eye.  After a few seconds you turn your head to see his face.

-What ?

You’re completely lost.

-You’re asking me what is going on ?

He seems serious, you nod.

-Yeah…

He sighs.

-[Y/N] you dragged me out of home looking like the tastiest snack ever without even giving me the chance to taste that snack and I had to try and not fuck you in your car in front of that restaurant.

Your foot unconsciously lifts from the gas pedal as you hear him speak.

-You should have.

You finally say when stopping at a traffic light, then turn your face to look at him.

-Fuck I can’t with you anymore.

He gently pulls your face closer and gives you the slowest yet sloppiest kiss ever. You feel that familiar heat between your thighs and notice the light is green once he breaks the kiss.

You giggle and bite your lips. He was upset because he was horny all this time ? The same glint in his eyes, he stares at you and hums in frustration while grabbing your thigh and squeezing it. This enables you to press a bit more on the gas pedal.

Once your car parked and the garage closed, Jihoon storms out of the car and joins you, desperately throwing himself at you and your lips, you moan in his embrace and feel his hard cock through his jeans against your hips.

-How the fuck did you think that dress was a good idea.

It’s not even a question, he’s out of breath and speaking fast not to break contact with your lips and tongue for too long. Your hands grasping his hair you lean your back against the car behind you and lift your right leg against his hip.

-I was hoping you’d like it, you whisper while he’s busy making out with your neck.

He grabs you by the hand and makes you sit on the black hood of your BMW.

-You’re a witch.

You grab his hair as he leans on his forearms, lifting your dress over your hips, he kisses your cunt through your humid underwear.

-Spell it with your tongue.

He swiftly pushes your panties to the side and does as you requested. His warm tongue feels so good against you and a small moan escapes your throat.

-Enough.

You try and push him away, you want to play with him too. He groans and lifts himself up to meet your face and kiss you again, you can taste yourself on his lips.

Hopping down from the hood, you push him against it and undo his belt, his dick making his boxers ridiculously small. You kneel and look up at him, enjoying the way he is so expecting but patiently waiting for you to do things at your pace.

-[Y/N] you’ll be the death of me.

You finally free his shaft and give a small lick on the head, making he hiss.

-Don’t ever give me the tsundere treatment again Lee Jihoon.

And you take him in your mouth. You start bobbing your head and he places his hand on your head, another moan escapes you, making your throat vibrate around his cock. A gasp escapes him, you look up at his face, his mouth open his taking in the view of the hottest woman ever having his dick in her mouth.

-Fucking hell who sent you on Earth, you’re so perfect.

You can feel your wetness spread to your thighs, that’s when he pulls your hair to stop you.

-Stop, get up.

You get up and he lifts you again on the hood of the car, you immediately take off your panties, which makes him smile.

-Good girl.

He leans on his left hand and steals a kiss before grabbing your hips with his right one to have them closer to his. Your legs spread around him, he aligns himself and takes in the view of your pussy begging to be filled.

-Mine.

He says as he slams into you, making you scream in surprise.

-Fucking mine.

He starts mercilessly pounding into you, the rougher he gets the more you call his name, as if to bring you back down to Earth because he’s sending you to heaven with each thrust he makes.

You’re whimpering and trying not to collapse, your arms are weak and trying to support you through being angrily fucked by your boyfriend.

-[Y/N] I’m close.

After a few seconds and slower but harder ins and outs, he lets out a loud groan calling your name as you feel his cum flooding your insides.

You’re both out of breath, still deep inside you he kisses you passionately and you chuckle.

-Feeling better ?

You ask with a tender smile.

He grabs you by the ass and carries you out of the garage.

-No, I need to fuck the idea to wear that dress again out of you.

-Why is that ?

You giggle, his palms on your cheeks and you arms locked behind his neck.

-I won’t survive another night with Mingyu and Joshua verbally making out with you, he groans.

You kick the air with your feet amused by his jealousy.

-And get your car washed tomorrow, your ass is printed on your baby’s hood."

─────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train...(4)

Painted Windmills

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Eames and Y/n embark on their intel operation and Eames only has one rule for Y/n; do not be seen.

word count - 2.4k

warnings - hospitals, blood (so minor tho), sadness

a/n - finally we have them meeting!!! Also I know some people may disagree with Eames' reactions in this but remember he is thinking about how this job is important for Cobb and Y/n.

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Eames led me in with his hand on my back in faux professionalism but with genuine care. We had dressed up all nice and proper for our first day. The thick black dress hugged my curves in a way I was not used to, and revealed my legs way more than I could stand. It felt constricting compared with the jeans (which I’d had for years) and baggy shirts I usually wore on jobs. I fixed my newly acquired fake glasses and my disguise was complete.

We walked up the stone steps to the house that loomed like my private gallows. Why was I so nervous? Eames was right next to me, and this was hardly the first intel operation I’d done with him.

I wobbled about in my precarious heels and my ankles practically gave out when I reached the fourth step. My embarrassment was saved by Eames’ quick grasp of my elbow, righting me lest I draw attention to our entrance.

Our fancy dress shoes clinked in synchronisation and stopped to face each other before we breached the fateful doors. One last debrief.

“What are we here to do?” Eames prepped me.

“Gather as much information about the father-son relationship and see what we can use to our advantage. And you’re going to be studying Browning to mimic his movement, mannerisms, and speech.” I completed with pride.

“Very good baby Cobb.”

“Hey! I vetoed that nickname!”

“The most important thing is don’t be seen.” I raised my eyebrow at his ridiculous request. “You know what I mean, don’t draw attention to yourself. And whatever you do, don’t talk to Fischer.”

I laughed at how serious he looked holding my gaze. I tried to leave to go in, thinking the conversation was done. But I was held in place by his hand on my arm.

“Don’t talk to Robert.” He tilted his head, and I felt the meaning of his words. He’d seen me with the picture. I shucked his hand off my arm and left abruptly.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I seethed.

He met the quick pace I had formed so he didn’t see the distress I felt at his distrust. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust me, he thought he needed to manage me. Take care of me. Like I was a child.

We both arrived at the top of a dark oak staircase that exuded the feel of wealth and prosperity. The house was so quiet that my heels were like a gunshot in a library. I began to tilt my head up to look at the expanse of the house in wonder. It seemed it had more shadows than glimmers of light. The house choked on its own emptiness.

“Mr and Mrs Trent?” A perky blonde approached us as we walked around the first floor aimlessly.

I panicked at her assumption. “No, no, no, no. We are not a couple—not even--. Miss James.” I shoved out my hand hoping she and I would both forget my stuttering. Great first impression.

She reluctantly met my hand. “Okay, I see well if you both come this way, we can get you started. There is quite a lot to do due to Mr Fischer’s declining health. You will both be responsible for sorting through the different files; making sure, if an account is prepared, it is filed away, and if it’s not, it is highlighted to be looked at.” Eames’ and I’s mouths ached from the smiles we were forcing towards Little Miss Big Boobs.

But we both righted our faces to make it seem like we were focused on the 'challenging' task rather than admitting this kind of work was trivial compared to our own jobs. We placed our bags down, took the exaggerated lapel badges handed to us, and began to quickly complete our task. We had previously discussed that we would complete the task first, not wanting to have hindered the Fischer empire any more than we were already going to, then go about our snooping.

I opened my first file, quickly read it, then assigned it it’s place. I’d always had a mind that worked faster than most. Arthur used to joke that my projections run rather than walk. This meant general schoolwork had seemed mundane to me when I was a child. Kids can be cruel to the kid who always finishes first. No one likes a show off.

After I had read my 10th file in less than 5 minutes, I noticed Eames was gesturing and mouthing something towards me.

‘SLOW DOWN’ Ah I forgot. Don’t draw attention to yourself.

My job here wasn’t exactly defined, by Fischer or Eames.

Eames trailed Browning like a shadow, subtly mimicking every move in a sort of dress rehearsal. I tracked him with my gaze, in awe at his skill. Partially because his skill was slick enough to pass between everyone’s tired eyes.

All at once, a commotion began around my section. Some balshy intern had decided to push Browning for an answer on question he didn’t want to hear. He went on to sarcastically suggest that the intern should bring the question to Maurice himself. He strutted away and drove open the large double doors that blanketed the room. When the oak parted I found myself moving away from my corner to peek into the scene revealed.

Maurice Fischer lay on his hospital bed surrounded by equipment which stood in contrast to the dark interior that sat around them. Browning walked through and instead of approaching Fischer senior; he made his way to the window where a man stood. His back was to me, but his figure was distinguished. My feet edged me forward a little more.

“Argghh” Maurice flailed out his arms. In his frenzy, he had knocked down a picture from his bedside. The man turned at the noise and it was there I saw the face I had longed to see. Robert Fischer.

He moved to pick up the picture with a sort of meekness. And as he looked up to his father there was a sense of shame there. As if he was once again the height of a young boy. He rose, broken picture scarring his hand. I see Browning and Fischer exchange words. I inch forward more so that my frame centres in the doorway. Suddenly…

“Mr Browning, I have some—” CRASH.

The balshy intern from before slams into my shoulder and knocks me onto the floor. Papers fly everywhere and I audibly wince when my knees come in contact with the hardwood floor. Shit.

I compose myself, trying not to consider how obvious I just made myself. As I slide my pages back together, 2 more hands join my own. I stop in my tracks, registering the person before me. I reluctantly look up and fall into a pool of blue.

“Are you okay?” I sharply intake.

He studies my face as I fail to speak. When I see him poised for an answer, my brain snaps back.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Robert’s pov*

“I put it there.” My finger drags down the cracked memory. “He didn’t even notice.”

My thoughts are overtaken when a loud crash reverberates throughout the room. My head snaps up, annoyed at the offending noise, but when I look up, I am overcome. I see a girl on the floor struggling to clean up her mess. I rush to her aid, glaring at the man who had knocked her down. As I passed him, I gently stated,

“You’re fired.” He goes to argue but retreats back into the office.

I kneel in front of her rushed attempt at clearing up and chuckle at how she had just seemed to make more mess in her haste.

“Are you okay?” She met my eyes and my breath caught as I fully took her in. She was beautiful.

Minute long seconds passed of us just gazing. I could have stayed there a lifetime if she let me.

“Yes, I am fine. I am so sorry about the mess; I’ll clean it up and I’d understand if you want me to leave.” I stopped her rambling by clasping her hand in mine. I then picked strands of her hair to place behind her ears to reveal more of the face she was trying to hide. Her spew of words was like music to me and what interested me even more were her little laughs between thoughts, as if apologetic for what she said.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

My sputtering was pathetic, but I was rendered speechless when he held my hand. I quickly retracted the offending limb to push up my glasses as if they could save me now. My thoughts were equally filled with his words but also my warnings. I had to leave and tell Eames the mistake I’d made so we could rectify it.

Together we had collected the papers into a transportable pile, and I stood up. But I braved it too quickly and found myself stumbling in my heels once again. Robert hadn’t let go of me even as I stood up, making sure I was okay. My leg which had gone numb from my position on the floor gave out and pushed me into Robert’s awaiting arms.

I let myself sink further into the perfect feeling of being in his warmth. He felt like a warm beach in the afternoon sun. But I quickly remembered my place. I jumped back in fright.

“You’re bleeding!” Robert exclaimed. As I stumbled back, he had noticed drops of blood adorning my newly scraped knee.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I tried to placate his worry as I began to make my way to the exit.

“No, come, I’ll clean it up.” He grasped my hand and led me through his father’s room despite my protests.

“Mr Fischer, please, you are far too busy. I can sort it myself.” We had made it through another door that led into a room which was so uniquely childlike.

“Please, I’ve been looking for an excuse to leave.” He smirked at me and led me to sit down on the window seat. He went to a drawer for plasters and then another for disinfectant. He moved about the room with assuredness. He returned and lifted my leg so that it rested over his knees. I tugged down the end of my short-ish dress. He opened the disinfectant and dabbed it with cotton wool. As he went about this, I took in the room around me.

It felt busy but not cluttered. In the middle of the back wall sat a single bed with light blue cotton sheets. The sheets were decorated with multi-coloured windmills. The white bedside tables held many trinkets of a young boy. The chest of drawers was home to more pictures and framed memories. My head lifted higher, and I saw the sky painted blue and it held wooden planes that flew around the room with a freedom I believe the owner wished he had.

“This is your room, isn’t it.” I whispered.

He didn’t look up from my scar. “Yes.” He chuckled. “Not that I stay in it.”

We both laughed. “I could see you still squeezing into that.” I pointed to the neatly made bed.

“I have thought about it.” He remarked.

I braved my next words. “Or maybe you just want to sleep in a simpler time.” Our eyes met again.

I noticed a familiar picture which sat on the chest. And I realised it was the same one that rested on the window seat between us, covered by Robert’s jacket.

“Is that you and your dad?” I mentally smacked myself for such a stupid question.

“Yeah.” He spoke.

“How old are you here?” I picked up the delicate frame. I smiled at the picture of a young Robert blowing on a handmade windmill, sat in his father’s lap. I could feel the love radiating from this image. It now seemed so different to the coldness one felt in this house.

“10. The nurse said he may respond to being surrounded by happy memories. That was the happiest day of my life.” He placed his arms around me to join mine on the frame.  “I just didn’t think that it might not be one for him.” As I turned to face him, I realised how close we were. One gentle slip and our lips would touch. Each exhale was felt on the others face. “There’s something. Have we met before?”

What was I doing?!

I retreated back, freeing myself from his arms. I had to leave. Find Eames and get out of here.

“I am so sorry, but I have to go—I just—I--.” I barely even finished a sentence as I ran out, back to the office. I threw my hair in front of my face as if that would help me now. Eames, Eames, EAMES!

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Robert’s pov*

I ran back to catch her before she left. I was unsuccessful so I asked Browning. She’d left so quickly I’d never even gotten her name. But I knew I needed it.

“That intern, what’s her name?” I asked my godfather.

“I don’t know, why? Where did you just go off to?” He responded.

“I’ve had to be numb to a lot in my life, but just then I felt something.” I would see that girl again if it’s the last thing I do. "Something real."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

Eames and I were safely in our rental car, driving back to the warehouse. Eames seemed pleased at his progress and thankfully hadn’t noticed my absence.

“I have Browning down to a T and I think he is going to be the key. If we can somehow get Robert’s own projection of Browning to—” As he prattled on, I struggled to quieten my breathing after my speedy getaway. All I could do was watch the world pass by my window, willing my mind to forget everything that just happened. How Cinderella of me.

“You, okay?” Eames looked over to me concerned.

“Yeah. I think the bad relationship with the father is the way in. Everything about that dynamic is so…broken.” I softly spoke.

“Nice. I like a good gap to sneak through.” I rolled my eyes at his childishness but also couldn’t help but laugh.

“He saw me.” I admitted.

The car came to a grinding halt. I sat cowering hearing Eames’ heavy sighs. “I’m sorry.” I managed to stumble out through my choked throat. Eames’ head hung low in his hands.

“Why?” he huffed out.

“I didn’t really have much control over it!” I argued back. This wasn’t a complete lie, in more ways than one. It had to happen. “Please don’t tell my dad, I can’t have him thinking I blew this whole case. Because I didn’t okay, because it’s fixable! You know that! Please you can help me fix it!” I was now begging Eames by scrambling at his coat to force him to look into my apologetic eyes.

“I thought you were better than that.” He spat.

“So did I.” I slumped back in my seat. A minute of silence passed. We both just stewed in it.

“I won’t tell your dad.” I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding on to. “But-“ I gave him my entire focus. “You mustn’t get distracted. Promise?” He held his pinkie out to me. I giggled remembering fondly.

“I promise.” I finished, linking my pinkie with his and then we both kissed our thumbs together whilst making a corresponding sound.

We drove off once more. Eames satisfied in the promise he’d made me make. I was terrified that I would break it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

a/n - they've finally met!!

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer

[just-a-fragment]

Still mulling over how to word this properly but ough all I'm thinking about recently is how good the OD reveal is. When reading the novel, most of us already have had a clue about who YJH's sponsor is, who the "Most Ancient Dream" is, what lovecraftian being out there could possibly be the worst one even compared to the other outer gods/constellations we meet, what monster is cruel enough to impose the suffering of thousands of lives, and hundreds of worlds. Then we get to the reveal, and its just...a child. A child who doesn't believe in his own happiness. A child who only experienced love through his mother's sacrifice

Aside from how well executed, and heartbreaking it is, the OD reveal is just chef's kiss because it's perfectly interwoven in the narrative, and in the overarching tone of the novel. One of the best things about orv is how it seemingly goes about very adult narratives with an almost childlike wonder/curiousity. How ORV recontexualizes traditional myths is reminiscent of like how your grandparents used to tell stories, it's subversive not in the usual way where the author does a whole 360 on a story's genre, but in a way that really does a deep dive on the themes/motifs/characters.

Like the nice girl didn't turn cruel despite everything!! But why is she nice? what comples her? what made her be so genuine, yet so snarky so resolute yet so tender?

The OD reveal is so so good because truly, who else could this novel be for? other than a child god. A being that's supposed to be omnipotent but negligent of the suffering he has caused. The Oldest Dream being a literal child works so well for us readers and for the narrative.

Like the OD reveal was obviously meant to be this meta-narrative commentary on consumerism but because orv's storytelling is reader friendly in a way, this doesn't come across as pretentious unlike other stories that deal with meta elements. ORV doesn't try to be this new-age classic, It doesn't force you to analyze it, analyze the text. It's simply just a gentle reminder about what stories are truly like, all it asks you is to read it, whether you see this work as a masterpiece or you just wanted to read for the sake of it. And then when you've done just that, maybe you'll see how even a "shitty" story managed to save a child's life

[kataraslove]

Do you think Aang is a neglectful father to Bumi and Kya II?

going from just what we are shown in legend of korra through kya and bumi’s perspectives? yes. not intentionally, of course. but it’s important to recognize the amount of hurt that aang caused his children, to the point where tenzin’s idealization of him starts to falter, and he acknowledges that his father isn’t as perfect as he thought he was (or wanted him to be). don’t get me wrong - I think the fandom tends to exaggerate parts of aang’s parenting. like comparing him to ozai? that is the most ridiculous thing i’ve ever seen. but i also see pro meta glossing over kya and bumi’s concerns with him, which isn’t right. there needs to be more nuanced perspectives than “he was as bad as ozai!” or “kya and bumi really were just overexaggerating their grievances with aang. he was a great dad!”

i think here is where it’s important to discuss authorial intent: bryke have said that they had not meant for their writing to come across aang being a bad father who set out to intentionally neglect his children. rather, kya and bumi’s concerns and resentment likely stem from how they perceived his role to the world. legend of korra as a series offers a meta commentary on living up to legacy, the legacy set by the heroes in avatar the last airbender, and the legacy of living up to a critically acclaimed predecessor series. kya and bumi’s concerns also stem due to legacy: the legacy left behind by aang and how the world views their existence in accordance to this legacy - as the non-airbending children to the last airbender. kya and bumi feel that they deserve the right to be part of their father’s legacy (and they do) just as much as tenzin. i don’t think their insistence to be part of avatar aang’s legacy is due to a desire for prestige and fame, as they’ve spent much of their lives shying away from their father’s legacy. i think it’s out of a genuine realization that they are grieving and missing their father and want to celebrate his successes.

in print media, we actually get a different perspective to his parenting. kya and bumi offer good words about their father (mostly). in turf wars (2015), kya shares how he was “nothing but supportive” in relation to her coming out. she offers some interesting lore about same sex relationships among the air nomads, likely quoting something that her father could have directly shared with her. in avatar legends, it is confirmed that aang did teach both kya and bumi about their air nomad heritage, and kya internalized his lessons on philosophy, meditation, and balance:

Although she developed a slight resentment toward Aang for teaching more to Tenzin about his culture,[3] Kya internalized some of her father's lessons on philosophy, meditation, and balance.[6] She developed a stronger connection with Katara, who taught her to develop her waterbending combat and waterbending healing abilities to proficiency.[3][6] - Avatar Wiki

in bumi’s recent comic called the cat owl’s cradle (2022) released in patterns of time, i was surprised to find that bumi held a much more favourable perspective towards his father than before. he thinks about his father’s great smile all the time and tells his nephew that meelo’d smile reminds him of his father’s. he mentions that aang and him used to go fishing (a water tribe practice). he’s understanding of his father’s many duties to the world; why - as the avatar - he often didn’t have infinite time in the world to spend with him. most importantly, through the advice he offers meelo, it is evident that bumi has realized that an absence of airbending couldn’t possibly make his father love him more than he already did - that he is fine the way he is, with or without airbending. in this story, we discover a vast growth in bumi’s self-confidence, as he no longer feels a sense of inadequacy, in his own skills and in his father’s eyes.

to answer your question: if you were to only watch the legend of korra, i can completely see why you’d arrive at the conclusion that aang was a negligent father who deliberately focused on his youngest child over his other non-airbending children. if you factor in print and comic media, it tells the story of a father who was trying his best to balance his responsibilities to the world and his personal life, succeeding in some ways and failing in others. at the end of the day, it seems like kya and bumi’s genuine love for their father overtakes their grievances with him. what’s interesting is that it’s not like an “he’s my father so I’m obligated to love him” type of love. it’s more along the lines of, “yes we have our issues with him but we do believe he loved us wholeheartedly and we want to be included in his legacy.”

now, just because i’ve grasped (after so many attempts) on what bryke was trying to do in korra does not mean that i don’t have my fair share of issues with the way bryke went about writing that storyline. i dislike the fact that they blamed the fandom on the overexaggeration - if all sides of the fandom came out with the take home message that aang was a deadbeat father who gatekept his culture to his literal family, the onus is on your writing, not on the fandom. the balanced perspective years later in the comics is appreciated, but we definitely needed to see this in the show from the get go.

ultimately, if they have an interest in redeeming aang’s arc as a father (which i suspect they might want to do given post-korra material), they need to show us, rather than just tell us, that he wasn’t as bad as how korra makes him out to be. the perfect opportunity for this is in this upcoming adult gaang movie with the birth of baby bumi. we have no details surrounding this adult gaang movie, so i don’t know if bumi will be in it or not. but it is the perfect opportunity, if bryke are interested in going that route.

I will end off by saying that i’d rather have aang as a father than my own any day lmaooo.

[arxims]

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 ᶠᴼᵁᴿ

Returning to Seoul was a decision that you finally ended up in , given that it was the place where you spent your past years. Leaving your messed up past behind, you made the conscious choice to return to Seoul in order to breathe new life into your existence. Little did you know that this decision would change your life. For the good or bad. As you reconnected with an old friend from your past, you were introduced to his younger brother, whose presence became far more significant in your life in a twisted way than you thought.

Pairing : jungkook x reader 

genre/au : a lot of angst, smut, killer!Jungkook, non idol au, violence. 

Warnings : graphic depiction of violence and gore, lots of blood, mentions of rape, smut, sexual activity, toxic Jungkook, red flag Jungkook, psychopathic behavior red flag behavior, mentally disturbed characters, suicide, murder, depictions of torture, serial killing, lots of trauma, depression, criminal behavior, murderous tenancies, possible major character death, mentions child abuse and child pornography, unprotected sex, cumming, teasing, commitment issues. 

Rating : only suitable for mature readers 

Word count : 7.5 k

MASTERLIST

<previous chapter | next chapter >

"Jungkook's not here?" 

Jungkook's absence was immediately noticed by you as you entered Taehyung's home. Taehyung, visibly exhausted from a long day at work, was lounging on the couch, engrossed in a TV show. You took a seat beside Taehyung. With a weary smile, Taehyung responded, "He's out, God knows where." Over time, you had transitioned from being just a friend to feeling like a member of Taehyung's family, allowing you the privilege of entering his home without the need to knock.

As you settled in, a weight on your mind prompted you to share your concerns with Taehyung. "There's something, Tae. Something that bothers me," you expressed, your gaze shifting to the Korean comedy show playing on the screen. Taehyung, sensing the seriousness in your tone, sat up attentively and lowered the volume to listen intently. "What is it? I'm here to talk," he reassured you, meeting your eyes with a look of genuine concern.

"It's about Jungkook," you confided softly. Taehyung's protective instincts immediately kicked in as he inquired, "What about him? Did he say something?" The thought of Jungkook potentially causing you distress stirred a protective urge within Taehyung, who regarded you as a cherished younger sister. "No," you responded, "But I don't know what I am to him, Tae. He's not even giving me an answer. He loves me, he's my boyfriend. But he's not letting me make anything official.

Taehyung raised an elegant eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by the situation unfolding before him. Observing Jungkook's behavior, he couldn't help but ponder if his brother had finally found solace in a single relationship. Jungkook's constant chatter about you, both at home and elsewhere, with your name ever-present on his lips, led Taehyung to believe that Jungkook was deeply enamored with you. The intensity of Jungkook's feelings was unmistakable, mirrored in your own actions and words.

As Taehyung mulled over the situation, a furrow creased his brow, reflecting his confusion at the lack of an official commitment between you and Jungkook. "What do you mean it isn't official?" he inquired, his expression a mix of concern and bewilderment.

In response, you poured out your heart, expressing your inner turmoil. Despite being treated well and loved by Jungkook, the absence of a formal label for your relationship left you feeling unsettled. "I know he loves me and cares for me, but he hesitates to define our relationship," you confided in Taehyung, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. The fear of losing Jungkook to another woman weighed heavily on your mind, tugging at your heartstrings.

Taehyung gazed into your eyes, his own reflecting a blend of worry and contemplation. The question lingered in the air, "What is he up to?" The complexity of emotions and unspoken desires hung palpably in the air, creating a web of uncertainty and longing.

"You asked him about making your relationship official. What was his reply?" 

"He said he doesn't wanna put a label on our relationship," you sighed, feeling a sense of desperation creeping in. Despite this, you believed it was a risk worth taking. 

"All I want is to be with him, Tae. To build a life together, start a family, and grow up in a small home. That's all I yearn for," you pleaded, knowing that only Taehyung possessed the ability to navigate this situation. He was the sole individual Jungkook would listen to.

"I asked him to meet my parents and he acted like he… HeHe only loves me for sex” you gazed at Taehyung with pleading eyes, hoping for a solution. "Please, convince him to meet my parents."

Following a moment of contemplation, a glimmer of hope flickered in your eyes as Taehyung offered, "I will try. I'll try and talk to him”

It was late, almost nine when Jungkook returned after his meeting with Yoongi. He was proud of the widespread news of Hajoon's murder and echoes his glorious name - the shadow reaper. 

He slowly closed the door of the house. As he turned back, his eyes met with the figure of Taehyung with his arms crossed. “Look, We need to Talk, Kook” Taehyung's voice sounded serious, it worried Jungkook a bit considering the fact that Taehyung was rarely serious. 

“Hyung.. Talk about what?” Jungkook's eyebrow raised. “About you, (Y/N) and your relationship with her. What are you upto?” His arms uncrossed as he raised his voice slightly. A scolding tone evident. 

“What are you saying, hyung?”

“Aren't you two together?  Then why can't you just fucking meet her parents. Poor thing only asked you to make it official and You turned that down?” Taehyung spat. He clearly despises Jungkook's actions sometimes and this was one of them. 

“Because I didn't feel like it. Did she tell you about it? She came to you whining?” Jungkook talked back. He threw his coat on the couch putting his hand in his pocket. 

“The matter is. You're making her confused. If you're her boyfriend, you should act like it. You're acting like you don't even love he-”

“Because I don't. . I'm not sure about it, hyung. But I need her”

Taehyung felt like someone hit him with a brick. His eyes widened in shock. “What did you say?”

“I. Don't. Love. Her. I'm feeling something I never felt before. And I don't know what the fuck it is” Jungkook said in a whisper. Eyes piercing Taehyung's. “But Hyung, I want her. I need her. I wanna keep her. And don't you dare break the glass palace she made in her heart. Let her believe I love her. It's better. But don't force me to just meet her parents  and all that bullshit because I'm not planning to marry anyone.”

Taehyung felt his hopes breaking into pieces. He was finally at peace when Jungkook found his girl. But he was more hurt over the fact that you've been hoping for a life with Jungkook more than anything. How are you gonna take this? Jungkook cannot lie forever. One way or another, you'll know the truth. Taehyung weakly sat on the couch “I can't believe this… You've been betraying her?” Taehyung's voice rose. “No. She needs to know.” Taehyung search for his phone on the table. But before Taehyung could reach it, Jungkook picked it and smashed it on the floor. 

“You're not telling anything to anyone, Hyung. Just remember this. The day she leaves me will be the last day I'll stay sane” Jungkook warned, leaving Taehyung in utter confusion on whether to save his friend from a lifetime heartbreak or keep his mouth shut for the sake of his brother's life. He knew Jungkook didn't make empty promises. Before storming off, he said one more thing. 

“(Y/N) is mine. She'll forever be mine and whoever steps into my way, I won't hesitate to end them.”

Though Jungkook rejected the proposal to meet your parents, he agreed to come with you to Jennie's wedding. Cause you whined a lot, of course. 

“You look perfect, baby. I'm jealous” You said, fixing his shirt as his hands rested on your waist, lips inches away from yours. 

“Are you sure we have to attend this wedding? cause you look so fuckable in that red dress baby.” He stole a kiss from your lips in the conversation. 

“No Kook. Keep your dick in your pants for once. It's important” You looked back at him. His line of sight met with your chest. “After the event baby. I'll let you have me” You just feather kissed his nose. “Don't tempt me wildcat, I might take you right there infront of the guests. Bend you over nicely. You want that?”

“As much as I want it, Kookie, we can't. I can't just ruin my cousin's wedding.”

Jungkook opened the door of your side as you stepped out of the car, at the wedding venue. Jennie loved peonies. So you were the one who designed the wedding venue decorations. And you tried your best to make it the most perfect one for her special day. 

“Baby, I'll go to the bride now. Socialize, okay?” You gripped his collar and pressed a kiss on his lips. “Uh huh” He grumbled, gripping your hips, leaning to get more kisses but you pushed him away. You turned your heals. As you took a couple of steps, you turned back and mouthed “Socialize. Love you” And you went to help Jennie.

As you mingled with the guests, ensuring everything was running smoothly for Jennie's big day, you couldn't help but steal admiring glances at Jungkook from across the room. His rugged good looks and charming demeanor never failed to make your heart flutter, even after all this time together.  

Watching him , laughing and making small talk with the other guests, you marveled at how effortlessly he seemed to fit in, his charismatic persona putting everyone at ease. No one would ever suspect the insecurities and self-doubts that he had confided in you during your most intimate moments together.

Your reverie was broken by the arrival of the dashing groom, Kai, looking every bit the perfect husband-to-be in his immaculate tuxedo. As he caught your eye and gave you a warm smile, you couldn't help but notice Jungkook's expression from across the room – his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, his jaw clenching with barely contained jealousy.

You smiled back at Kai, pushing aside the brief flicker of unease you had felt at Jungkook's reaction. This was Jennie's day, and you weren't about to let anything ruin it for your beloved cousin.

"You've really outdone yourself with the decorations," Kai said as he approached. "Jennie is going to be over the moon."

A swell of pride filled your chest. "I'm just glad I could make her day even more special."

As the ceremony began Jennie made her grand entrance, resplendent in her white gown, which was also chosen by you. As Jennie and Kai exchanged their vows, you felt delighted. You couldn't help but look up at Jungkook, who's supposed to be on the altar with you, saying vows to protect and cherish you forever. You couldn't help but imagine you and him there, you in your white gown and him in his tuxedo. Holding hands. It made your toe curl. Everything was going perfect 

The reception went really well. You really enjoyed it with your friends and your man by your side. And what made you proud is you got so many compliments. Especially on Jennie's wedding venue decorations and all.It was overwhelming.

“Thank you So much (Y/N/N). Thank you for making my day special” Jennie hugged you tightly before getting into the car with Kai. You happily waved them goodbye. 

After the wedding ceremony and reception had concluded, you excitedly approached Jungkook. Since Jungkook was showing no signs of seriousness in your relationship, you decided to take the initiative. You found him in the crowd as you dragged your steps towards him, your parents in tow. This was the perfect opportunity to finally introduce the man who had captured your heart to your family.

 “Kook” You immediately hugged him, pulling back, you turned back to your parents. 

"Jungkook, these are my parents," you beamed, gesturing between them. "Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Jungkook."

The moment the word 'boyfriend' left your lips, you noticed Jungkook's expression shift. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and a muscle in his cheek twitching - telltale signs that he was struggling to contain his rising anger.

"We've heard so much about you," your mother said warmly, seemingly oblivious to Jungkook's discomfort as she moved to embrace him.

But Jungkook deftly sidestepped her gesture, his body language becoming increasingly tense and guarded. "I'm not her boyfriend," he said through gritted teeth, shooting you a pointed glare.

You felt your cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. Jungkook had made it clear from the day before that he didn't want labels or anything too official, but you had hoped that after meeting your parents , he might be open to taking that next step.

"We're just...seeing each other," Jungkook continued, his voice low and clipped. "No need to make it more than it is."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group as your parents exchanged a bewildered look. You opened your mouth to explain, to smooth over the awkwardness, but Jungkook cut you off.

"If you'll excuse me," he muttered, already turning on his heel and stalking away.

As you watched him go, a sick feeling twisted in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook's aversion to commitment was nothing new, but the intensity of his reaction had caught you off guard.

Deep down, you knew there was more to Jungkook's behavior than met the eye. He claimed not to want labels, but his possessiveness and need to keep you close betrayed a deeper truth - he craved your love and devotion, even if he didn't fully understand the depths of his own feelings.

Jungkook was a man at war with himself, torn between his desire to possess you completely and his fear of the vulnerability that came with truly opening his heart. And as you stood there, reeling from his outburst, you couldn't help but wonder which side of him would ultimately win out.

Little did you know, the battle raging within Jungkook was far darker and more twisted than you could ever imagine. For beneath his charming exterior lurked a monster - a creature of violence and depravity that craved your light while simultaneously yearning to extinguish it forever. king 

He drew in a shuddering breath, conflicting emotions flickering rapid-fire across his chiseled features. When he finally spoke, his voice was little more than a hoarse rasp laced with a strange melancholy.

You followed Jungkook into his car before he started it and started driving to his home. You were determined to get to the bottom of his erratic behavior back at the reception. The car ride was silent as you battled with the inner emotions you felt. The whirlwind of doubts and questions you asked yourself ‘Am I wrong?’’Does he love me?’. The car pulled up into Jungkook's apartment. He swiftly left the seat and harshly slammed the door. His anger is still evident in each of his motions. 

"Jungkook, wait!" you called out as you followed him inside the home. "You can't just dismiss me like that in front of my parents." you finally decided to speak up after a silent ride. 

He wheeled around to face you, his expression thunderous. In that moment, he was practically a stranger, the warm familiarity you'd come to know and love eclipsed by clouds of anger and irritation.

"Dismiss you?" he bit out, his tone laced with derision. "I was merely being honest for once instead of playing along with this ridiculous charade."

You recoiled as if he'd struck you, struggling to process the venom dripping from his words. "Charade? Jungkook, what are you talking about?"

He closed the distance between you in two long strides, his movements almost predatory as he crowded into your personal space. You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, mingled with undercurrents of something that made your instincts screech with warnings to flee.

"Don't act so scandalized," he sneered, lips curling into a cruel approximation of a smile. "We both know I've never claimed to want any kind of label or commitment. So why go parading me around like some kept man, hm?"

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as hurt and confusion swirled through you in dizzying eddies. This bitter, unforgiving stranger was a far cry from the vulnerable soul you thought you knew – the tenderhearted man you'd given every piece of yourself to.

Sensing your distress, Jungkook seemed to rein himself in slightly, his expression shifting into forced neutrality as he struggled to regain control. When he spoke again, his voice was careful, almost gentle – but you could hear the tightly leashed menace lurking beneath.

"Look, baby..." he sighed, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. "You know how I feel about...attachments. About being tied down. It's not you, it's just who I am."

You flinched instinctively at his touch, and something flickered in Jungkook's eyes – a predatory light that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"But that doesn't change the fact that you're mine," he continued silkily. "Mind, body, and soul. I just can't do titles or anything too...official. You understand, don't you, sweetheart?"

As the full weight of his words settled over you like a suffocation, you realized that there was something deeply unbalanced about the dynamic between you. Something that extended far beyond his denial to labels. 

As Jungkook moved to gather you in his arms once more, his familiar scent and the memory of his gentler embraces, you wondered if you were finally getting a glimpse of the depths he had so carefully kept hidden. About what you are to him.

If so, the truth was more twisted and terrifying than you could have ever imagined. But even as dread coiled through your veins, some deep part of your heart still clung to the desperate hope that the man you loved was still in there somewhere, fighting to re-emerge from the gathering shadows.

"You know I want you, baby. All of you, forever." He reached out, calloused fingertips grazing your cheek with an odd sort of reverence. "But husband? Father?" A harsh chuckle rattled in his chest. "Those roles...they weren't made for a man like me."

Jungkook's gaze bored into yours, intensity and haunted desolation in those depths. For a beat, his guard seemed to slip completely, allowing you a glimpse at the tempest of darkness that dwelled within.

"I'm toxic, y/n," he said, each word carrying a strange shadow of self-loathing. "Poisoned to my rotten core by demons you can't even begin to comprehend. Giving me those kinds of titles, those kinds of...expectations..." He trailed off, shaking his head as he deciphered his next words. 

"It would only end up ruining your very existence."

“Isn't that what you're doing now?”You fired back, but your rear drenched lashes canceled out the intensity in it. Jungkook raised a hand, effectively silencing you with a look that mingled tender adoration with soul-deep anguish.

"I can't be what you want, no matter how much it kills me," he said simply. "The most I can offer is myself – the broken, damaged man who needs you with an intensity that terrifies me. Beyond that..." Another weary shrug, devoid of hope or expectation. "I'm not built for picket fences and babies, sweetheart. I can only ever be a wildfire, scorching everything in my path."

As he drew you into his embrace, you felt the truth of his words like injecting into your very spirit. 

Though you knew your choice had already been made long ago, every sane impulse in you urged you toward self-preservation, a voice that repeated in your mind, begging you to save yourself from the incarnation of hellfire in front of you. And you felt the need to keep yourself away from the impending insanity you're gonna drag yourself into by staying with him. You were hopelessly, inextricably bound to the tempest of his love . 

In the end, total devastation was inevitable for you. The only open question was the extent it'll reach in the aftermath.

You pulled back abruptly before Jungkook could claim your lips in that searing, desperate kiss. His forehead creased with a fleeting look of confusion that quickly gave way to resignation as you leveled him with an unwavering stare.

"What do you mean you're not made for this?" you demanded, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. "For having a real future together? Then why did you let me believe it was possible, Jungkook? Why give me that kind of hope if you knew all along it would lead nowhere?" you finally found your brain in the mayhem of thought whirling inside you and decided to speak up. 

He opened his mouth as if to respond, then seemed to think better of it, jaw ticking as he warred with himself internally. For several endless moments, he simply studied you intently, fingers flexing at his sides in wordless agitation.

"I never lied to you, (Y/N), " he said at last, voice low and tinged with a weariness that went bone-deep. "Not about the most important things. I told you from the start that I don't do commitments or pretty fairy tale endings."

 "But you..." He trailed off, seeming to struggle against the reins of his own restraint. "You burrow so deeply under my skin, baby. Make me want things I have no business craving."

You fought the urge to lean into that scorching familiarity, too raw and off-balance to surrender so easily. You have to. You can't go back to this agonizing cycle of pain you've been going through for seven months. 

"When I'm with you, it's like the broken shards inside me piece themselves back together for a few fleeting moments," he confessed, voice dropping to a hushed rasp. "Like I could actually be the man you deserve, instead of the warped, unforgivable thing I know myself to be."

He drew in an unsteady breath, agony writ large in the taut lines of his expression. "So yeah, I let myself get caught up in the fantasy sometimes. Deluded myself into believing we could make it work against all reason and logic."

“We can make it work. If you just let me. I'll make us work. I promise” Your voice seemed tired. You just wanted him to be with you. 

Stepping in closer once more, Jungkook cradled your face between his large, calloused palms, forcing you to meet the turbulent depths of his gaze head-on.

"But the truth is, I'm a fundamentally fractured thing, (Y/N)," he said, each word etched in harsh reality. "Dangerous and selfish to my core. Giving me a wedding ring, letting me put a baby in your belly...it would only end up tainting the light I love most about you. Twisting it into something as warped and wretched as the demons that ate away at my soul from the inside out years ago."

“ I don't understand. Jungkook. Did you lose your mind?” You whispered against His thumb which skirted the plush swell of your lips, his touch feather-light yet carrying the banked heat of a thousand barely leashed desires. "I lost it a long time ago. I'm not built for a forever baby. I can only ever be ashes and ruin in the end."

As the weight of Jungkook's grim self-assessment washed over you in chilling waves, you found yourself caught between two impulses - the driving need to soothe the haunted parts of him, and the screaming instinct to cut your losses before this pain of realization manage to pull you under as well, crush you under the weight of pain, suffering and agony that your dreams have been withered in breeze. 

In that moment of reckoning, you were forced to confront the truth that the man you had poured every ounce of your limitless devotion into has never wanted to spend the lifetime with you, let alone be tamed by something as precious and fragile as the dream of family you still clung to.

Jungkook was the wildfire he had always claimed to be - beautiful in his fury, yes, but ultimately destroying all in his path to  ash if allowed to burn. And you, solely, with burning heart, decided to rescue yourself from his scotching fire which could potentially set your sanity ablaze. Only if it already isn't destabilizing. 

Tears traced  down your cheeks as the full, devastating weight of Jungkook's words finally penetrated the fabric of your naive denial. This man – this beautifully destructive force of nature you had given every piece of your heart and soul to – he was never truly yours to possess or nurture into something sustainable.

"All of it was a lie," you murmured, more to yourself than him as your vision blurred and swam. "This whole time, you let me believe we could have...everything. A real future."

Jungkook made a choked, anguished sound low in his throat, reaching for you instinctively. But you stumbled back, wrenching yourself from his touch as if it was a poisoned Thorne. 

"Don't," you bit out, mustering what little remained of your fragile composure. "I can't...not again. Not after hearing the truth straight from your lips."

He froze then, every hard line of his body going rigid as you seemed to age a thousand years before his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Jungkook rasped, each word dragged from the deepest wellspring of his shattered soul. "You have to know, hurting you is the last thing I ever wanted—"

"But you did hurt me," you cut him off, voice little more than a wobbling whisper through the maelstrom. "You just admitted to living a lie, letting me pour every ounce of myself into an illusion because facing the ugliness inside was too hard. Despite my condition. You still made me…"

A solitary, broken sound escaped him. But you couldn't bring yourself to look, to let the all-consuming intensity of his presence draw you back under before you'd found the strength to break its spell once and for all.

Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, you straightened your spine and lifted your chin, channeling every last ounce of your battered self-worth and respect. 

"This...this is the only way then," you said, each word like shards of jagged glass scoring the delicate flesh of your heart and soul. "Clearly, we want different things, Jungkook. Things you can never give me, no matter how much we might try to force it. We shouldn't...we can't see each other again," you concluded, the taste of your own damnation on your tongue. "Not after laying it all bare like this."

Pivoting on your heel, you turned away from the man you loved – the demon who had consumed you, piece by precious piece – before your resolve could splinter anew. Each step struck through you like shrapnel, until you were certain there could be no greater anguish than the sensation of having your very essence unmade. You were completely broken, each step making the pain worse. 

"No," he bit out, the single syllable ringing with the weight of something Biblical, inescapable. "You don't get to just walk away from this, from us."

You barely had time to process his meaning before Jungkook was on you, crowding into your space with the fluid, predatory grace of a big cat cornering its prey. His broad frame boxed you in against the wall, palms slamming against the plaster on either side of your head as he caged you beneath the scorching brand of his body.

"I warned you, baby," he growled, the words half snarl, half plea as his gaze bored into yours with intensity. "Tried to make you understand that I'm not made for happily ever afters and diamond rings."

Unbidden tears sprang to your eyes anew, cutting blazing tracks down your flushed cheeks. You opened your mouth – to protest or surrender, you didn't know. But Jungkook sealed his lips over yours in a punishing, soul ripping kiss before you could give voice to either decisions.  

It was anger and adoration, tenderness and possession taken to their most primal extreme. A devouring fusion of everything you had tasted in simple sips during your time as his lover, his obsession. 

When he finally wrenched himself away, you were trembling and lightheaded, the shreds of your anger all but extinguished in the wake of his unrelenting onslaught.

"I'm a force of nature, baby," Jungkook murmured, trailing a path of searing kisses along the slender column of your throat as you fought to catch your breath. "Wildfire and in my wake. I'll only ever leave you in ashes if you tie the knot with me." 

He nipped at the juncture of your shoulder, tongue laving over the heated imprint his teeth left behind in a maddening caress. "But I'll be damned if I let you slip through my fingers without taking everything you have to give first."

His voice dropped to a rasp, resonating straight to your very core. 

"That pretty, pretty soul of yours?" A low, rasping chuckle that carried more than a hint of a threat even as he peppered your swan like neck with adoring, reverent kisses. "It was mine the moment you fell into my gravity” 

White-hot lances of your fear to lose you sanity and desperate, untamed yearning licked through your veins in equal measure at the promise blazing in his eyes. 

You were his – an ember caught in the blaze he had stoked from the moment your paths first crossed. And no matter how many times the flames licked your faith and sanity to tinder, you would keep rising from the ashes, drawn back into his searing, ruinous embrace.  

Because for better or worse, Jungkook had awoken something just as wild and merciless within you. Something that recognized its perfect other half in him, two noble, tragic souls locked in an intricate perfection.   

Just as Jungkook leaned in, his lips a hairsbreadth from claiming yours in that searing, possessive kiss, you managed to summon the tattered remnants of your willpower and pull back abruptly.

"Stop this...this bullshit," you rasped, propping yourself against the wall in a futile attempt to put much-needed space between your overwrought senses and his overwhelming presence. "I can't...I can't do this anymore, Jungkook."

Your voice broke on his name, the single syllable carrying the weight of every shredded dream, every shattered promise between you. Fisting your hands in the fabric of his shirt, you met his blazing gaze head-on, willing him to see the truth laid bare.

"Don't you understand?" The words ripped from your throat in a wounded rasp. "I'll lose it. Lose myself completely if I let you pull me back under. I'm going crazy now. I can't even think properly. Stop this before I go insane"

Jungkook's expression didn't so much as flicker, that ferocious intensity pinning you in place just as surely as his body had moments before. His eyes burned, amber and smoldering, daring you to tear yourself away from the irresistible gravity of his orbit.

"You're already lost to me, baby," he murmured at last, each word a husky brand against the heated flush of your skin. "Have been since the moment I caught your scent on the night breeze and decided to make you mine."

A tremor lanced through you at the implacable vow, the delirious hunger underlying his promise. 

"I'm not some pretty little dream you can just walk away from when the night turns bleak, (Y/N)," he growled, and you felt the words reverberate through you like an electric impulse. "I'm the shadow over your heart, cast in every color of sin you've ever tasted and a thousand more you haven't even begun to name. You think you can just leave me like that?"

Try as you might, you would never fully escape the inescapable gravity of his making.

"You don't get to cut yourself free now, not after letting me inside to fester for so long," Jungkook continued, lifting his gaze to yours in a silent demand for your surrender. "That choice was made the night you whispered yes and guided me into that secret, sacred space you'll never be able to take back."

Hot, traitorous tears spilled over the brittle confines of your lashes, scoring blazing tracks down your flushed cheeks. In that moment, you realized the unvarnished truth of his words, accepted it with every aching fiber of your being.

You were bound to this elemental creature – this wildfire made flesh. You have to turn back. Now or never. Leaving behind love, the obsession, the devotion you utterly held for him. To save yourself from the rusted cell bars of the psyche ward. You were losing it. 

You harshly shoved Jungkook away, desperate to create space between you. "Stop! Stop this, please," you sobbed, sliding down the wall until you were crumpled on the floor. 

The tears flowed freely as you shook with the force of your anguished cries. Raking trembling hands through your disheveled hair, you squeezed your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions crashing over you in waves. Each shuddering breath felt like shards of glass piercing your lungs.

You couldn't do this anymore - this constant push and pull, letting Jungkook drag you to the brink of shattering over and over again. Didn't he see how he was unraveling you, stripping away every last piece of who you were until there was nothing recognizable left?

Opening your reddened eyes, you fixed Jungkook with a haunted stare, reflecting back the myriad fractures now marring your wounded spirit. "I'm breaking, Jungkook," you confessed in a tremulous whisper. "Shattering into pieces under you. If I let you sweep me back into the chaos, I may never be able to put myself back together."

His words were a darkly seductive vow as his lips hovered a hairsbreadth from yours. "Let go of the remnants of who you used to be, and rise from the ashes as you were meant to - savage, merciless, and utterly, devastatingly mine."  

 

"Burn me to ashes," you whispered in utter capitulation. "Complete your terrible work and unmake me utterly. Then you can be free to find your next victim." your body shook as you were holding onto your last string of mental control. 

"I don't want to see you again," you stated, mustering every ounce of determination as you met his smoldering gaze head-on. 

A pained frown creased Jungkook's brow, but you pushed forward before he could protest. "We should not see each other again. Ever again." you stated. 

With shaking hands, you smoothed your rumpled dress, willing your voice not to waver as you took a fortifying breath. "Ever."

The idea of walking away from Jungkook's gravitational pull, from the searing intensity you had allowed to consume you utterly, felt like carved away pieces of your very soul. He had become the obsession around which your world orbited.

But you couldn't - wouldn't - let him reduce you to ashen ruins the way others had before. Not again. The memory of that heart-rending, soul-shredding agony was still too fresh. You have to do this. For the people who actually love you. 

Jungkook seemed to sense the shift in your demeanor, the implacable walls being erected to strengthen your decision. His lips parted as if to give you commands or pleas. You didn't want to know.

But you were done being a hapless pawn in someone else's blaze. 

"Don't," you warned, holding up a hand to forestall whatever soul-scouring onslaught he prepared to unleash. "I can't...I won't survive having my heart shattered into those many pieces again. Not even by you."

For a suspended moment, the air was thick with the weight of a thousand unvoiced farewells

Then, drawing every remaining reserve of your battered strength, you turned on your heel and simply...walked away. Each step sent an agonizingly painful ripple throughout your veins. 

You didn't look back to see the expression on Jungkook's face, didn't let yourself open to the pleas and sugarcoated words you knew would come. Just pressed onward, one agonizing footfall after another, until you had created enough distance to safeguard what little remained of your tattered, grievously wounded heart.

It would be a long, horrible journey to self-reconstruction from here, you knew.  But this time, no matter how many times the phantom pyre called out, you vowed to safety in the still, small quiet that follows in the wake of even the most cataclysmic blaze.

Because for all your beautiful ruin and tragic devotion, Jungkook's love had always been a wildfire - devastating as it was brilliant. And rising like a phoenix from those particular ashes was a feat your battered soul could no longer muster.

The familiar surroundings of your childhood home provided little solace as you stepped through the doorway, your dad's worried gaze immediately finding you.

"Sweetheart?" He crossed the room, wrapping you in the comforting embrace you hadn't realized you were desperately craving until that moment. "What happened? You look..."

"Broken," you supplied hoarsely when he trailed off. "I feel broken, dad."

Your mom appeared then, features creasing with maternal concern as she took in your disheveled appearance and the sorrow etched onto your face. "Oh, honey..."

You brushed away the tears that had already begun trickling down your cheeks anew. "I...I need to tell you both something. About Jungkook."

They exchanged a weighty look, but remained silent as you guided them to the cozy living room, sinking into the overstuffed armchair that had cradled you through so many tears and triumphs over the years.

And then, like a dam finally fracturing under inexorable pressure, the entire story came pouring out in a torrential swell. You laid bare every intoxicating high and devastating low of your relationship with Jungkook - the obsessive passion, the soul-scorching connections, and the alarming moments where darkness and volatility took the helm.

By the time you finished, your parents' expressions had shifted from shock to heartbroken empathy...and something else you couldn't quite put a name to. An emotion that looked suspiciously like disappointment.

Your dad was the first to break the heavy pall of silence. "Sweetheart, I can't say I'm surprised that boy turned out to be more trouble than he's worth." He sighed, raking a hand through his graying hair. "I knew we can't trust this Jungkook guy"

You blinked owlishly, surprised by his revelation. In all the turmoil of your relationship, your parents' approval had been the last thing on your mind.

Before you could respond, your mother reached over to clasp your hands in her soft, familiar grip.” It's okay sweetie. We are here for you”

Tears stung your eyes anew at her plaintive words and the unvarnished concern on their faces. Your parents had been silently standing vigil through the entire storm, hoping against hope that you would eventually see the gathering darkness for what it was.

"We never wanted to overstep, baby girl," your dad continued gruffly “But don't be blind again. And I'm glad you realized he's not good for you”

He leveled you with an intense, soul-searching stare that bordered on paternal command. "You need to get as far away from that boy as possible, you hear me? Cut every tie until he's nothing but a memory."

Your mother squeezed your hands, nodding . "It's the only way you'll ever begin to recover, find your spark again. That man...that relationship...it's not good for you baby. And I can't lose you again."

Unconsciously, you found yourself nodding along with their grave pronouncements, accepting the heavy truth of their concerns. You had been well on your way to obliteration at Jungkook's hand. No matter how brilliant and all-consuming the heat of his love burned, it was a pyre that would inevitably reduce you to scattered embers.

"You're right," you rasped, the words tasting of ash and resignation on your tongue. "I can't...I can't keep letting him consume me like that. It'll only end in total ruin eventually."

A tremulous inhale, followed by a fragile, failed attempt at a smile you hoped looked more reassuring than it felt. "But I could use some help picking up the pieces. Becoming myself again, for the first time in...I can't even remember how long."  

You dad nodded resolutely. "Of course, (Y/N/N). Anything you need." His expression softened then, suffused with naked paternal affection.

A week passed. You never went out of your house nor let Jungkook reach out. He's been wandering in your mind as well as your premises for the week. You were sitting on the kitchen counter as your mom made breakfast. Your dark eyebags evident. He's everywhere. In your dreams, in your bathroom mirror, beside you in bed. He doesn't seem to let go of your mind. 

Your phone screen lit up in another silenced message. Then you noticed the train of 56 missed calls from none other than the destroyer himself. Control (Y/N)

"Did I ever tell you about the plans your uncle has been cooking up?" Your dad started. 

You furrowed your brow in silent question, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, you know your childhood friend Mingyu has been sweet on you for years," he said wryly. "And between you and me, his father has had dreams of officially joining our families through marriage for about just as long."

You and Mingyu had been fast friends since you were young, bonding over afternoons spent pulling pranks around his family's sprawling estate. You admit that you had an undeniable crush on him since childhood. And you once told him that you'll marry him for sure. 

But you were too broken for finding love now. No. You're done with that bullshit. Your parents will only do the best for you. You knew it might seem sudden and hard to accept. But Mingyu is a gentleman and he could potentially help you get the reminisce of Jungkook wandering in the expanse of your mind. 

"Oh honey, don't look so scandalized," your mother laughed lightly, waving off your sudden bashfulness. "We would never push you into anything remotely serious right now, not after the hell you've been through. But you can consider. They're willing to wait"

Her expression softened, turning tender and reassuring in a way only a mother could as she reached out to brush a stray tendril of hair from your face.  

"But...if you're open to it, maybe reconnecting with an old friend might be just the gentle balm your poor heart needs right now? A chance to remember what feeling cherished and adored is supposed to look like, without all the sound and fury?"

As your parents exchanged a hopeful look, you knew this newest development might catalyze the journey on the road of healing ahead. Your parents were relieved that Mingyu’s family was oblivious to your little boyfriend. Your battered spirit would require more meticulous tending and time than a simple rebound could provide.

But at the same time, something in you unclenched slightly at the idea of allowing yourself to open up to the softer, steadier affections of someone who had been woven into your life since childhood. Someone inherently safe - who could teach you how to breathe easy with the assurance of a solid, labeled relationship. 

Perhaps Mingyu could help chart the path back to the person you had been before Jungkook's wildfire had scorched away every remaining sliver of recognition. It was a lifeline, a steadying tether you realized you desperately needed in order to keep your chin above the tides of despair that threatened to drown you utterly.

So you lifted your chin, mustered the ghost of a tremulous smile, and looked into the warm, hopeful eyes of your parents as you answered the only way you could.

"Reconnecting with an old friend actually sounds...really nice. I'll consider it” 

Why do I feel like I messed this chapter up. I felt like (Y/N) Mingyu thing was too abrupt. Cause (Y/N) is heartbroken and blah blah blah. Idk. Do you feel like it was in such a rush?

Finally a long chapter. I'll take a mini break. Probably for a week or two, if I feel like it. I like writing but I was lacking confidence in my writing, which made me not publish my stories for so long. But yeah. I do have some cringe story drafts. Long way. Talking about moonstruck. It'll be only traumatizing as it progresses. Some um expected moments and, idk. I don't wanna spoil it. I have a shitload of ideas in my head and most of the events in Moonstruck now weren't even planned when I first planned out the plot. Still, the important parts are yet to come… see ya in the next part. Feel free to let me know your thoughts. Honestly I love when readers comment I'm living for this. Love yall 

- Mars

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ : @looneybleus @ttanniett @jjk174

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Twenty-One

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The sky blushes with the hues of the setting sun as you and Shanks step into a soft, grassy clearing. The world around you seems to hold its breath, wrapped in the golden embrace of twilight. The trees form a natural barrier, their leaves rustling gently in the breeze, creating a melody that dances through the air.

You walk side by side with Shanks, your fingers now constantly seeking to brush against his. Each touch sends a thrill through your veins, a thrill you are trying to hold onto while not allowing the tension of your argument to ruin your mood. You glance up at him, catching the way the dying light paints his features in shades of gold and bronze. His red hair catches the sun's rays, turning into a fiery halo around his head.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Shanks' voice breaks the silence, low and rich.

“Very much indeed,” You reply, still staring at him. Shanks chuckles and eyes you.

"I was talking about the scenery," You laugh softly, and lean into his side on your next step.

"So was I," you retort, your gaze remains fixed on him. "He is painfully handsome I must admit.”

Shanks leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "And you, treasure, are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

You feel a flush creeping up your cheeks, and you playfully push him away. "Stop it, or I'll start thinking you're trying to win me over."

He laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "Win you over? I thought I already had."

"Maybe," you say, tilting your head playfully. "But it never hurts to keep trying."

Shanks grins, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Challenge accepted." His smile began to fade and you can see his thoughts turning away from playful banter. You needed to talk, this was a most intimate place to hold such conversation. The playful atmosphere dissipates, replaced by the weight of unspoken words. You step away slightly, your smile fading from your lips. Shanks takes a deep breath, catching your elbow and turning you so you face him. His eyes lock onto yours.

"Aria," he begins, his voice steady but filled with an underlying tension. "We've been avoiding this for too long. I can't keep pretending that everything's fine."

You cross your arms over your chest, a defensive gesture you can't help. "What are you trying to say, Shanks?"

He takes a deep breath, his one hand running through his red hair. "I don't want to hold you back from exploring the world. You've got so much ahead of you, and I can't be the reason you miss out on any of it."

Your heart aches at his words, but you push down the rising emotion. "And what if I don't care about all that? What if I just want to be happy? Is that not enough?"

Shanks steps closer, his eyes searching yours for something. "I want you to be happy too. But being with me means danger, uncertainty... a life constantly on the run. Your longing for exploration is limited."

You take a step back and run your hand through your hair, the frustration bubbling up inside you. "You think I'm naïve? That I don't understand the risks?"

Shanks shakes his head, his jaw tightening. "That's not what I meant. I just... I don't want you to regret this later."

"Regret?" Your voice rises, filled with incredulity. "The only thing I'll regret is not kicking your ass for being a complete imbecile. Do you even understand what it was like for me? Trapped, suffocating under that life they planned for me!"

His eyes flash with something—anger, guilt, something more complicated than either. "I know what you've been through, Aria. But running away from one trap doesn't mean running into another is the answer."

Your fists clench at your sides. "This isn't a trap! This is freedom! And you are trying to take it away from me because you're scared."

"I'm not scared," he snaps, but the look in his eyes betrays him.

"Then what is it?" You demand, stepping closer. "Why are you pushing me away?"

"Because I love you!" The words explode from him, raw and unfiltered. His chest heaves with the effort of containing so much emotion.

"Then why are you trying to make this so difficult?" You shout back, grinding your teeth together to stop yourself from speaking words you might regret.

"Because loving you means wanting what's best for you," Shanks says through gritted teeth. "Even if it means letting you go."

Tears blur your vision, but you blink them away furiously. "I don't need you to decide what's best for me, Shanks. I can make my own choices."

His eyes darken with a mix of frustration and longing. Before you can react, he steps forward and grabs your shoulders, pushing you back against the trunk of the nearest tree.

The rough bark bites into your back as he looms over you, his breath hot against your face. "You drive me crazy," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

"Oh, like you don't return it ten fold?" You fire back at him, eyes blazing with fire. Shanks doesn't respond, instead his lips dive down to yours. You gasp against his mouth, but then your arms are around his neck, pulling him closer as every ounce of tension between you ignites into something far more powerful and consuming.

You can taste the desperation on his lips as he kisses you, his tongue searching for yours and tangling together in a heated dance. His hand moves from your shoulder, sliding down your arm and intertwining with your fingers. You feel his calloused fingers against your skin, the sensation sending shivers down your spine.

Shanks deepens the kiss, his lips pressing harder against yours as he leans into you, his body pinning you against the tree. Your heart races in your chest, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes. You can feel the intensity of his emotions, the passion and longing that has been building up between you for so long.

As the kiss continues, you become aware of the world around you fading away. There's no ship, no crew, no pirates or marines. It's just the two of you, lost in the moment, caught in the storm of your emotions. The only sound is your ragged breathing and the soft moans that escape your lips as Shanks' tongue explores the depths of your mouth.

His hand leaves yours just as quickly as it had taken it, traveling up your arm and resting on your cheek. He cups your face harshly, his thumb caressing your skin as he pulls your face deeper into the kiss and you feel as if he intends to devour you. You wouldn't complain.

Shanks tears his mouth away from yours, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare up at him, your emotions a chaotic storm. Without warning, he releases your jaw and grabs his knife from his belt, the blade catching the last light of the setting sun.

"What are you doing?" Your voice is a mix of breathlessness and confusion, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he slices through your shirt with a swift motion, the fabric falling away in tatters.

"Shanks!" you exclaim, trying to cover yourself with your arms. But he's relentless, his eyes dark with desire as he runs the tip of his knife between your skin and bra. The poor bra drops from your body as you make another noise of outrage in the back of your throat.

"I'll buy you dozens more," he promises, his voice rough and low. "But right now, I need you bare, treasure.”

Before you can protest further, his mouth descends on your breasts, hot and demanding. You let out a moan and dig one of your hands into his hair. His tongue flicks over your sensitive skin, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your body. You gasp and arches your back, pushing your breast into his mouth as his lips work their magic.

His mouth suckles your breast, tongue laving at your nipple with a hunger that rivals a starving man. His hand drops his knife in favor of cupping the breast yet to receive attention.

You can feel the heat of his desire radiating off him, and it only fuels the fire burning inside you. You arch into him, squirm against his body, your fingers pulling on his hair as you let out a soft moan.

"Shanks," you breathe, your voice trembling with need. His name on your lips is bar far the sweetest he has ever heard and he desires more. More of you.

Shanks pulls away from kissing your bare chest, his lips leaving a trail of heat against your skin. His breath comes out in ragged pants, matching the rhythm of your own racing heart. You watch him with wide eyes, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

"I want to taste more of you," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

Your eyes widen as he sinks to his knees in front of you, your arm around his neck dropping against he shoulders for balance while his hand moved with practiced ease to the waistband of your trousers. His fingers work deftly on the buttons, each one coming undone with a soft click. You shudder as he tugs the fabric down over your hips, exposing more of your skin to the cool evening air.

"Shanks..." you whisper, your voice trembling. The sight of him kneeling before you sends a rush of heat through your body, making you feel both vulnerable and incredibly desired.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust and something deeper—something that makes your heart ache with longing. "Trust me," he says softly, his hands gliding down your legs as he helps you step out of the trousers and underwear.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the anticipation building with each passing second. His one hand grips your hip, steadying you as you lean back against the rough bark of the tree and dig your fingers into the bark.

The cool evening air brushes against your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Shanks' body. You shiver, but not from the cold. Shanks looks up at you one last time, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper that makes your heart ache.

"Trust me," he murmurs again, his voice sending a thrill through your veins.

You nod, unable to find your voice. Shanks' lips curve into a small smile before he lowers his head further. The first touch of his mouth against you sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. You gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair.

His tongue flicks out, teasing and exploring, each movement sending waves of sensation through you. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it escapes anyway, raw and desperate.

Shanks' hand on your hip tightens its grip as he pulls you closer to his mouth. His tongue moves with practiced skill, finding all the right places to make you shudder and gasp. You brace yourself against the tree trunk, your fingers digging into the rough bark as you struggle to keep yourself upright.

Your world narrows down to the sensation of Shanks' mouth on you, the heat and pressure building with each flick of his tongue. Shifting against his mouth, your indulgent noises turn to desperate whines and your fingers sharply pull on his hair. But that only seems to fuel his fervor.

"Shanks..." you moan, your voice trembling with need. Your legs begin to shake, but Shanks' grip on your hip keeps you steady. He hums against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Your breaths come out in ragged pants as Shanks continues his relentless assault on your senses. Then his tongue circles your clit repeatedly, each movement pushing you further towards release. You can't hold back the pressure in your abdomen any longer. With a cry of pleasure, you arch your back and let go as Shanks drives you over the edge.

Your world explodes into a million stars, your body quivering as waves of pleasure ripple through you. The intensity leaves you breathless, your fingers still tangled in Shanks' hair. As you come down from the high, Shanks rises to his feet, his face glistening with your essence and eyes burning with raw desire.

He makes quick work of the strings of his trousers, his movements efficient and almost frantic. The anticipation builds again as you watch him, your heart pounding in your chest. When he frees himself, his cock stands erect, a testament to his arousal.

Without a word, Shanks grabs your leg and pulls it against his waist, the roughness of his movements only heightening your need. His cock presses against you, hot and insistent, and he begins to rut against your still-quivering body. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, reigniting the fire that had only just begun to subside.

You grunt and whimper, gripping his shoulders for support, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. Each thrust brings him closer, the head of his cock brushing against your most sensitive spot. Your breaths come out in ragged pants as the pleasure builds once more, threatening to consume you entirely. He wasn't even in you yet!

"Don't tease," you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

Shanks' eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and something deeper, something that makes your heart race even faster. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you breathless. His tongue dances with yours, a wild, desperate tangle of heat and need. You can even taste yourself on his tongue. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you locked in this fervent embrace.

You gasp into his mouth as he positions himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing insistently against your slick folds. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he pushes forward, filling you bit by bit. The stretch is intense, almost too much, but the pleasure that follows is all-consuming.

Shanks pulls back slightly, his breath hot against your lips. "Aria," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "You feel incredible."

You can't form a coherent response, your mind too clouded with pleasure to think clearly. Instead, you tighten your leg around his waist, urging him deeper. Shanks groans at the sensation, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself inside you completely.

The rhythm he sets is aggressive and wild, each thrust driving him deeper into your cunt. it makes your back scrape against the bark your pressed against but the kiss of pain only heightens the pleasure. One of your hands makes it way to his jaw and you pull his lips harder against yours, urging them to part so that you may drink in his taste. Rather than give you what you want, Shanks' tongue snakes out and takes control of yours.

You're lost in the intensity of the moment, the raw hunger of Shanks' kiss, the feel of his body moving against yours, inside yours. The world around you is nothing but a blur, the sounds of the jungle fading into insignificance compared to the pounding of your heart and the ragged gasps of your breath you make against his tongue.

Shanks' hand moves from your hip, sliding between your bodies to find that sensitive bundle of nerves. His fingers work in tandem with his thrusts, each movement of his hand matching the rhythm of his hips. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a coiling tension that threatens to overwhelm you completely.

You break the kiss, your head falling back against the tree as you let out a moan that echoes through the quiet grove. Your body tightens around Shanks, your muscles trembling with the effort of holding back the tide of pleasure that's threatening to crash over you. Even your leg around his waist begins to tremble and shake against his body.

"Let go, treasure,” Shanks growls, his voice low and husky in your ear. "I've got you."

His words are all it takes to send you spiraling over the edge. You cry out as the pressure inside you shatters, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you as you cling to Shanks for support. Your body convulses around his, the contractions of your release drawing a deep, guttural moan from his lips.

The intensity of your release leaves you trembling, your body quivering against the rough bark of the tree. Shanks' breath is hot against your neck as he groans, pulling out of you with a swift, deliberate motion. The sudden emptiness makes you gasp, your muscles still spasming in the aftermath of your climax.

Shanks rests his forehead against yours, his breathing heavy and ragged. His eyes are dark and filled with a mix of desire and something deeper that makes your heart ache. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the evidence of his own arousal still pressing insistently against your thigh.

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The jungle around you is silent, the only sound the mingled rhythm of your breaths. You reach up, cupping Shanks' face in your hands, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingers. He leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as if savoring the sensation.

Then he opens them again and meets your gaze with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. Without a word, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that's both tender and possessive. It's a stark contrast to the wild passion of moments before, but it sends a different kind of thrill through you.

Your lips move against his in a slow, deliberate dance, each touch igniting sparks of pleasure that linger in the aftermath of your high. You can taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of just how intimately you've been connected. Shanks' hand moves to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

You lose yourself in the sensation, the world narrowing down to just you and Shanks. His mouth is warm and insistent against yours, each movement conveying a depth of emotion that words can't capture. It's as if he's trying to tell you something with every touch of his lips, something that goes beyond desire.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless. He rests his forehead against yours once more, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something. At the very least, thoughts of your argument had long since left your minds. You sigh and press your fingers into his cheek.

"You are going to have to give me your shirt because I am not walking back to the ship topless." The sly grin that slowly makes its way onto Shanks' face is all too telling of how much he is enjoying this moment.

Shanks chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Fair enough," he says, reaching down to the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, he pulls it over his head and hands it to you. His chest is bare now, the muscles rippling under his tanned skin. You can't help but admire, a pleasant smile blooming upon your lips. At least the view you will have walking back is more than enough to make up him ruining your shirt and bra.

Date Published: 6/24/24

Last Edit: 7/29/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[paintbrushnebula]

Intermission (2/?)

(1/?)

Gwen’s eyes searched for Miles only for a second, and found him at the center of the room.

She gasped.

Wherever Miles went, he carried the lucid, prismic visage and bold colors of his universe with him, like he himself was a proud monument to where he came from for all to see. A brand new ocean of color erupted from his form and stained her walls with yellow that bled out like streams into the surrounding hues, creating marigold at the ends of the yellow streams. With Miles at the very center of it all, his mahogany complexion glowing from within the golden psychedelia his presence in her world produced, it looked like sunflowers.

A bouquet of sunflowers just for her. The sight had an insatiable hold on Gwen’s gaze and wouldn't let go. Not that she was pleading for it to.

Miles was marveling at the visage of Gwen’s world, his hands clutching at his temples as his breathing shallowed (Gwen was genuinely worried he might start hyperventilating), his legs going on autopilot as he took slow, hypnotic steps to explore the room, like it was the greatest art museum he'd ever been brought to.

Then Miles’ eyes found Gwen.

Now it was Miles’ turn to gasp, his hands falling from his head to go palms up like someone surrendering as he stepped away from Gwen in absolute awe. His eyes sparkled in captivated wonder as they danced up and down Gwen’s entire form, which she just remembered must’ve been enveloped from head to toe in lush, pastel flecks, as if painted on her by an artist from a higher, divine plane.

Time seemed to stop for both of them as they finally locked eyes. Miles’ full lips grew into a smile so wide the fat of his cheeks squished up into his teary eyes causing them to squint in disbelief at the saccharine visual splendor that was happening all around them.

Gwen’s lips formed a wobbly smile that broke into a still almost-quiver, her widening eyes stinging with unshed tears as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Miles had Gwen's world spinning like a ballerina in a music box dancing to the most otherworldly psychedelic music.

The pair’s shared unrelenting state of wonderment at the other had come to a screeching halt when Miles’ eyes finally fell onto the demolition that surrounded their feet. “Oh my God, did someone break into your house?!”

Gwen was touched by her dad’s haste to quit, but she really wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t prioritized it over tidying up after her departure.

Gwen waved it off. “Eh, opening a portal indoors can leave a pretty big mess behind. This was the second one today.” She sucked her teeth in self-reproach. “Shoulda opened it on the rooftop. I’m a—” Gwen tapped her finger to her temple “—forgetful spider, Miles." She trotted nonchalantly over the wreckage to her bedroom door, her excitement at seeing her room again growing with each step. Her lips were starting to curl into an unexpected smile.

It was left slightly ajar, just enough to see inside. Enough for Gwen’s eyes to immediately spot a few posters, some favored tops hanging in her dresser, and other cherished possessions that the mere sight of them again had nostalgia blossoming in her heart. After a brief hesitation, Gwen gingerly swept the door open, her palm remaining on its cracked surface a few seconds more before departing.

Her steady eyes wandered the walls of the room she grew up in, traces of her childhood days on full display like it was an exhibit on the life of Gwen Stacy.

Gwen’s hand hovered over everything that was near where she walked, ready to touch, feel and hold anything that gave her a strong recollection.

Her hand eventually landed on sheets of music layed out on her vanity. She picked up the one sitting on top and brought it to her eyes. MJ had begged Gwen for months to offer up her own songwriting talents for the band. All because her songbook just had to be left out in the open on her vanity unattended when MJ dropped by to lend her a studded blazer. And MJ just had to be completely blown away by Gwen’s work. And Gwen just had to be an insanely talented (and wildly closeted) songwriter. The song now sat there unfinished, collecting dust. Just one of many forgotten, unfulfilled promises she’d made to others.

The Mary Janes. It felt like Gwen's heart had just been stung by a bee at the mere thought of them, guilt and shame spiking within her. Just thinking about their last encounter–the afternoon before Gwen was practically banished from her dimension–it made her queasy. Now, she wanted to go back. Turn back the time and let them in. Let herself lean into their support. Friends that could've happened.

Connections that could’ve been made. Connections that could have kept her from being alone and isolated for nearly two years. And she turned her nose up at all of it.

Gwen remembered how she would always brood over how much she hated her life, how she wanted to leave it all behind the moment she hit 18. She’d grab her cassettes, her guitar, a knapsack, and just jump into some rundown van with those flaming rainbows painted on the sides, and head south. Make her living playing music to quirky, like-minded locals in Virginian hamlets.

Now, Gwen longed for all that was still here, in her possession.

[hussyknee]

Somewhat put off by the spoilers I've read about Mary and George. There's no doubt nearly all relationships in the British court were some level of sordid, but King James, to all intents and purposes, had genuine feelings for his three male favourites, most especially George Villiers. He was no Henry VIII. I don't know why they wanted to reduce the most famous and open homosexual relationship in European royal history to a comedy between a "cock-struck" old lech and a conniving courtier that led him by the nose and then betrayed and murdered him.

All evidence points to George at least being loyal to James (if you discount his love letters as simply sucking up to his benefactor) and even had a fond relationship with his Queen and his son Charles. He was in fact in France when James died, and reportedly cried when he heard the news.

It's even a little heartbreaking because this is right after Nicholas Galitzine played the closeted gay Prince Henry in Red, White and Royal Blue, who in the book is proud of the open and unashamed love between his ancestor and his lover, and the way even James's son Charles I honoured Villiers for accompanying him to the Spanish Court to ask for the hand of the Infanta.

“Actually . . . you remember how I told you about the gay king, James I?”

“The one with the dumb jock boyfriend?”

“Yes, that one. Well, his most beloved favorite was a man named George Villiers. ‘The handsomest-bodied man in all of England,’ they called him. James was completely besotted. Everyone knew. This French poet, de Viau, wrote a poem about it.” He clears his throat and starts to recite: ‘One man fucks Monsieur le Grand, another fucks the Comte de Tonnerre , and it is well known that the King of England, fucks the Duke of Buckingham.’” Alex must be staring, because he adds, “Well, it rhymes in French. Anyway. Did you know the reason the King James translation of the Bible exists is because the Church of England was so displeased with James for flaunting his relationship with Villiers that he had the translation commissioned to appease them?”

“You’re kidding.”

“He stood in front of the Privy Council and said, ‘Christ had John, and I have George.’’

“Jesus.”

“Precisely.” Henry’s still looking up at the statue, but Alex can’t stop looking at him and the sly smile on his face, lost in his own thoughts. “And James’s son, Charles I, is the reason we have dear Samson. It’s the only Giambologna that ever left Florence. He was a gift to Charles from the King of Spain, and Charles gave it, this massive, absolutely priceless masterpiece of a sculpture, to Villiers. And a few centuries later, here he is. One of the most beautiful pieces we own, and we didn’t even steal it. We only needed Villiers and his trolloping ways with the queer monarchs. To me, if there were a registry of national gay landmarks in Britain, Samson would be on it.”

Henry’s beaming like a proud parent, like Samson is his, and Alex is hit with a wave of pride in kind.

He takes his phone out and lines up a shot, Henry standing there all soft and rumpled and smiling next to one of the most exquisite works of art in the world.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking a picture of a national gay landmark,” Alex tells him. “And also a statue.”

Like all white liberals, Casey McQuiston tends to romanticise the crime against humanity that is royalty and also that house built by bunch of slave owners that has since housed a progression of genocidal war criminals. There's very little to like about any British monarch. But the relationship between James and Villiers is a significant part of gay history and there's no need to smear it even more than it's already been smeared the last four hundred years, contrary to the actual known facts.

Idk man. I'm sensitive to this stuff Ig. Maybe I'd be a little more positive about it if I watched it, but the trailer gave me "tee hee they're gay" vibes so Idk if I want to.

Edit: so it seems the trailer is misleading and the story is more complex than a "tee hee gay" comedy. I might watch it after all, even if the starkly visible age difference makes me a bit queasy. How tf is Galitzine nearly thirty and a babyface with those razor cheekbones?? Perfect to show how uncomfortable it looks for a middle aged man to get with a kid of twenty.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Verisimilitude (long thoughts about writing)

Sometimes I get mailed random books to consider for course adoption. The first one I looked at the other day was so incredibly bad I could not make it past page 12--"oh my god I hate books" bad; "trees were wasted on this!!" bad. And then there's this one. I've made it to page 30-something and I could have told you 20 pages ago that Oliver Twist it would remain, but I am still reading it to read it, and maybe keep it to recommend extracurricularly. (The protagonist Alva is a weeb for American culture, whatever the word is for that, which I think could make for interesting study!) But that's all context to say,

AH YES THE INTERNET RABBIT HOLE OF NARUTO FAN FICTION, HENTAILORD. WE'VE ALL BEEN THERE.

SO...

BLEACH MENTION WHEN????

Based on the style of her screen name, the Naruto porn, and her listening to My Chemical Romance and Linkin Park, this girl is definitely living her teenage life in the mid-00s, in ways that are searingly obvious. Which feels like it should be a massive success in terms of using verisimilitude to pinpoint a particular time and place and, by extension, person. But I don't think it does?

In thinking about why this doesn't work for me as a reader:

1. As a general rule, I tend not to enjoy "fandom" subculture references like this in fiction, because they have never felt true to my experience of fandom, or even my experience of others' experiences of fandom. The specificity is there but not the verisimilitude. Whether this is because of an inability to articulate the breath of life that animates fandom spaces, or a feeling of needing to at least kind of translate it for the uninitiated general audience, I don't know. Not that Alva's narrative goes far enough to merit this discussion; she's just reading Naruto porn for one sentence, but it just doesn't land right for me. (Sidebar, this is probably also why I don't enjoy acafandom or fandom essays that aspire to acafandom; there's usually this attempted, manufactured critical/"objective" distance from the text that often feels performative, or at least the wrong [or less interesting] tool for the job. And even where 'in-group' positionality is addressed, the translation required to make these things legible to the out-group is just--well, not what I want in life, I guess!)

2. I am a great believer in drawing greatly from what you know and feel and all those random thoughts and behaviors and emotions and tics that make life interesting, and giving them to fiction. In fanfic especially, I am a great believer in seeing the author's hands in a text, making the story (and the original canon) unmistakably theirs. But I kind of always want them to be hands that are in the act of giving. By which I mean, I think there's a difference between all these things existing in a story and having been given to a character or a world or a story, and integrated genuinely into them.

Like, all I can think about while reading this book is how the author definitely lived through the mid-00s in a particular and very familiar way. Rather than create a richly immersive world, the details jump out of the page and leave the story behind. They don't feel like they belong to Alva (or perhaps Alva does not feel like a character with the depth to hold them and make them hers). They belong do the author, and to me, and to history, but Alva falls out of the equation. And if this is going to work, I feel like Alva can't fall out of the equation.

3. I was talking to a friend about something similar a few months ago. She was complaining about a historical fiction book she was reading with a book club she leads at the library she works at--how it was clearly very well-researched, but dry as hell. The information was not animated by the story itself. And I compared it to a fanfic I'd (not) read, where the author was very proud of all the research they'd done and how accurate-to-life its setting was. (To be clear, I'm not subtweeting Bleach fandom. Completely different fandom! Also this fanfic was published like 16 years ago.) The fic did bring in lots of specific details about trees and highways and city names--things I knew well, too, because it was set where my sister lives--but rather than be as exciting and, again, rich, as I feel like that familiarity could have been, it all felt dead. Because all these things were described specifically, but not true to how the narrating characters would describe them, or mentally catalogue them, or experience them.

And you might think, well, how would we possibly know how a character thinks about highways? It's not like he's explained this in canon. And I'd say, well, you definitely can. There are probably a lot of different ways a character could plausibly think about highways, depending on the specific shade and flavor of your characterization of them, all equally believable; but it's got to be part of the equation. There are a lot of ways to be right, and you know it when it's wrong. The wrong-est way it can be is for the way they think about highways to not factor into the way those dang highways are being described by them, in their POV.

4. I think about this both as a reader and as a writer--certainly more often as a writer, because I find that level of imagining a character's headspace the VERY best part of the process, and also because I am often concerned I am not doing it, or at least not well, lol. I'm positive I've done all the things I've just talked about not enjoying.

These concerns exist at the level of characterization work in general, but also at that level of, is the wizard behind the green curtain? Are his hands giving? Because while I do write fanfic because "it is fun" and because "this idea interests me," I am also usually writing it to work through deeply personal emotions/experiences. Which again, perhaps selfishly, I support that. But from a craft perspective I don't want it to feel, transparently, like "oh lol this author is going through it."

Moreover, from a relational perspective, I don't want that to be the relationship between me as author and the characters. Because one thing I am ALWAYS writing fanfic to do is to indulge my feelings about how much I am in complete, rapturous love with the characters and worlds in question. I don't want to just place things upon them, like a film or shroud; I want them to be given, integrated, arriving in the text wholly in their bodies and in their minds and entirely theirs. And I mean this for both the emotional arcs and conflicts and the random tics and details. I want them to have been given, and to belong, and to feel completely and inextricably theirs.

So, those are my thoughts about mid-00s Naruto porn!!!

I'd love to hear others' perspectives, as readers or writers or both. Have you had similar reactions, or quite different? Why do you write, and what do you want? What's your template for how you think about characterization, or your writerly relationship to canon/characters?

[diwtara]

The locals were throwing them a feast in thanks for saving the village. With music and booze and meat - what more could they ask for?

The chief even brought out a local speciality.

"This drink," he explained, "will compell you to go to your friends and tell them something honest." He went on to explain that though it might not be something you would normally say out loud, it very rarely led to hurt feeling on either side - it did of course happen ocasionally, but the drink was made specifically to celebrate and help strengthen bonds.

When offered the chance to try it, no one was surprised that Luffy took the opportunity. Their cook was next, having caught a wiff of it Sanji insisted he needed to learn the flavour profile. Franky was the third and final volunteer, claiming that honesty was SUPER.

The stawhats kept a close eye on their captain as he bounced around chatting with everyone in his vicinity, though it was hard to tell if the drink had taken effect yet, or if Luffy was simply being Luffy.

"Nami-swan!" Sanji called running eagerly up to the red head, with a bright smile on his face.

She greeted him in turn with a polite smile, allowing him to take one of her hands gently in his own

"Nami-swan, you are such a strong, amazing person and I am so glad that we met. I am so happy that we are friends!"

Namis eyes widdened as a blush spread across her cheeks. "Oh!" That wasnt what she had expected him to say at all. Now she found herself stumbling over how to respond.

"I see the elixer has begun to work, cook-san" Robin cut in with a soft smile.

"Robin-chwan!" He cheered taking her hand in his free one. "You are so brilliant and wonderful. Im always excited for you when we find ruins for you to study, or a poneglyph for you to read. I love seeing you happy!"

It was Robins turn to be left speachless. She knew the strawhats were okay with humouring her passion, but it still caught her off guard that they were people, that there could be people, who genuinely cared about her happiness.

Movement off to the side caught Sanjis attention and he took off as quickly as he had appeared.

"Usopp!" He cried, wrapping the man in a hug.

"Oof. Okay okay, you can let go-"

"I know how brave you are Usopp! I see it every time you do what you need to despite being scared! But i will still always do my best to protect you whenever I can!"

Usopps eyes watered for a moment before he threw his arms around the chef. "Sanji!!"

Zoro doesnt know what draws the blondes attention his way, hell maybe its just another special property of the drink, makes you zero in on the people you know one by one. He sort of wishes he hadnt been noticed though.

"Zoro!" He tried not to squirm or duck away as he was approached.

He didnt need the cook rushing over to - what? Tell Zoro that theyre friends? He knows theyre friends, its not something either of them should have to say out loud. Thats not what they do.

Or worse, the curly-browed idiot could decided to say something like 'you're strong', or 'you're a good fighter', or 'I respect you'.

That would just be uncomfortable for both of them. And the cook would probably regret it in the morning.

And just how would Zoro be able to respond to that? Zoro sure as hell cant respond in kind to that sort of comment. Hes not the one who drank a truth potion after all.

He could pick a fight of course, make fun of the blonde for coming over and smiling and talking with complete sincerety. Laugh at him for willingly taking the drink and spilling out his feelings everywhere.

"Oi! Zoro!" The cook was grinning at him in a way he never did, or at least he was until he tripped on something on the path and a look of concentration replaced the smile as the man focused on staying upright while stumbling the last few feet forward. This had Zoro fighting off a smile of his own. The staggering blonde was a stupid, and maybe slightly endearing, sight.

Sanji caught himself with one hand planted on Zoros chest, staring down at it in complete fascination.

"I think about kissing you all the time."

What.

Zoros breath caught.

"I would really like to suck your cock." Sanji continued, licking his lips, "Maybe tie you up first if you'd let me."

What?!

The blondes eyes slowly traced up from his hand on Zoros chest to meet his eyes. When he did, whatever he saw there, he seemed to realize exactly what he had just said.

Zoro watched as his mouth opened and closed several times, a dark blush racing across the mans face.

Finally Sanji snatched his hand away and turned on his heel before running back the way he came. Zoro almost chased after until he saw the blondes path change so he could scoop Chopper up in his arms.

The bright smile was back on his face, the blush fading. Whatever he was saying to Chopper had the reindeer wiggling and delightedly calling him a bastard.

Zoro watched the group - Franky was now openly sobbing while Nami pat his shoulder awkardly, Luffy was fully wrapped around Usopp - while he tried to catch up with what just happened.

How the hell was he supposed to respond to that?!

He sighed and decided he could confront the cook tomorrow. (Maybe.)

For now he needed a drink.

[missingmayuri]

At Midnight

Mayuri X Reader

It wasn't often you were asked to stay behind for extra work, Captain Kurotsuchi usually preferring the company of someone he trusted more. Someone like Akon or Hiyosu. In the past Mayuri was very reluctant to let regular workers into the lab past hours but more recently he began to do just that for reasons unknown. Most of the time he called upon you, unable to really understand why. Not only that but your late nights with the Captain always played out much different to what others in the squad experienced. Some experienced anger, most experienced dismissal.

Not you though.

You experienced intelligent conversation and consideration, sometimes even an acknowledgement of your skills and smarts. It was very unlike him, that much you knew but you appreciated having a mostly quiet and spacious place to work in. You had no reason to complain and one day you would thank the captain for the opportunity to work in such conditions.

Standing at the cold steel table you place your scalpel to the side, wiping off the specs of blood with your stained cloth. Tonight the Captain needed help dissecting some specimens, claiming he needed a steady hand for more delicate veins and arteries. Despite knowing Mayuri had steady enough hands you didn't question his choice, doing as he asked every time. It was always the best to stay on his good side.

You wrap a cleaner cloth around the dismantled miniature hollow to stop it being exposed to open air, placing it in a nearby cooler box for even more protection and writing down your findings in the notebook Mayuri had supplied you with. It was black leather and guilded gold down the spine, filled to the brim with knowledge the Captain insisted you commit to memory. You had once questioned him many moons ago about the nature of such a gift, knowing nobody else had received a thing. Let alone something so beautiful. You were met with a huff and a wave of a ghostly white hand in response.

"Have you ever considered I want my squad members to take pride in their research? To display it in the proper manner and with the upmost respect?"

You still didn't understand weeks later if he was being sarcastic or genuine but knowing Mayuri Kurotsuchi it was probably the latter.

You take the specimen over to the shelf, alphabetized by species name and size, making sure you placed the container on the correct shelf. The Captain seemed in a better mood today and you wanted to keep it that way, able to hear little chuckles and noises of excitement and exhilaration from the other side of the room as he looked closely at the hollow before him with a large gleeful grin, mixing various compounds into his beaker close by.

"Yes! Excellent! What a fantastic subject!"

You watch him closely, always fascinated by the love of his work and the care those slender and nimble hands put into it. You find a soft smile making it's way onto your face as you continue to stare, getting lost in those deep golden eyes that shone through the dim lights.

It doesn't last long, your smile suddenly replaced with a deep blush upon being noticed. You frantically apologise, turning back to the shelf as you suddenly hear sandals tapping on the cold lab floor. Your heart was beating a mile a minute, thoughts all over the place and unable to pin one down. All you knew is all of them involved Mayuri.

Would he be mad at you staring?

Was be going to shout, blame you for breaking his concentration?

Everything was swirling like bloody water down a sink and in your sheer panic and hearing the footsteps halt did your mind piece everything together.

All the late shifts, just you and him.

The expensive notebook.

The lack of a raised voice and the compliments.

He couldn't be. Right?

"Care to explain why you were staring?"

His voice was calm, yet had a slight amused edge to it, shocking you so much no words could exit your mouth. You could produce no more then mumbles and stutters, his mere voice taking the wind out of your sails completely. You could hear him chuckling behind you, breath hitching as he turns you to face him. Your face surly couldn't get any hotter, immediately proven wrong when Mayuri takes your hand gently and pulls you to the table he was working at.

You couldn't think, mind a foggy mess as a scalpel is once again placed in your hand but this time over the specimen the Captain had been working on.

"I have a little experiment I want to try. It's going to take a few nights to complete"

Your hand was shaking over the hollow, unable to find a decent grip as you tried to focus on both it and the Captain's words.

What sort of experiment did he want to try and why did it involve you?

A pair of slender arms wrapping around your waist, kiss to your cheek leaving a black lip mark was enough to freeze you completely and grip the tool tighter.

"I want to see how well my best worker works with distinctions"

The blush depends but this time accompanying a smile.

You wouldn't mind a few more late night shifts after all.