#also it's long and I like to keep things simple

[muniimyg]

♡ 05: i bet we'd have really good—

series m.list // taglist

note: wowie,, thank u for 1.5k and for being so patient 💛 i’m so happy to be ending this mini fic and to have been interacting with u all :) my apologies if this ch sucks LOL i'm so sick rn but i'm tired of rewriting n writing... so enj !!! it's been so fun and i can't wait for more fics to come in 2025 !!! kisses my kitties😽💓

⏱️ this part goes thru time skips!

💭 which bed chem jk moment was ur fave?

warnings: tension/slow burn (friends first yk),, mean!jk trying to figure out how to be nicer to oc,, jk calls oc baby and kitty !!! teasing/dry humping (bc jk has glasses on. jk plays with her titties/nipples & jk cums thru his sweatpants),, jealousy (v teeny tiny),, virginity talk/actual sex; oc loses her virginity to jk (jk eats her out/fingers her, ass slapping, dirty talk, rawdogging,, missionary, doggy, blowjob/headpushing & face cumshot)

//

it’s been a week since jungkook kissed you, and he has made it your problem.

truth be told, he has made a game of this—hovering without hovering… just close enough to test the line. whatever way he plays, jungkook is always shameless in the most subtle and maddening ways.

sometimes his hand brushes yours as you walk, light and fleeting… and it’s impossible not to notice the way his fingers twitch. it’s like he’s debating whether to grab it or not.

you don’t make it any easier on yourself, either.

there’s this suffocating tension between you two and some days are better than others… like today.

“why are you so quiet?” you ask, glancing at him over your shoulder.

he tilts his head, feigning confusion. 

“why? does the silence make your heart race?”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, and that’s when he strikes—his foot nudging yours mid-step. it’s just enough to throw you off balance, making you stumble slightly, your bag slipping again.

“jungkook!”

he’s already reaching out, catching the strap before it can fall. 

“careful,” he says, his voice all mock concern, but the way his lips twitch gives him away.

you glare at him, yanking your bag out of his grip. 

“you’re the one who tripped me.”

“prove it."

"seriously?"

"if you can't prove it... you have to kiss me. you know, as compensation for accusing me so unjustly." he says, wide-eyed and innocent, though the corners of his mouth are curling into a smirk.

it’s infuriating, but it’s also... not. 

not when he’s looking at you like that, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin and is thoroughly enjoying it.

“do friends kiss?” you narrow your gaze at him. “do friends trip each other over? do friends—“

“do friends wait for each other?” jungkook leans towards you. “mhmm? do friends have ulterior motives—”

“you have ulterior motives?”

“oh, absolutely.”

friendship. 

it’s odd to say the least—the way you and jungkook have fallen into this friendship. that’s what you’ve both agreed on. 

friends. 

but the lines are blurry. 

so blurry they might as well not exist at all… because what kind of friends kiss on the cheek as casually as saying hello? what kind of friends text each other goodnight every single evening, or linger too long in conversations that could end with a simple goodbye?

the rules of your agreement feel more like suggestions—ones jungkook seems intent on bending just enough to keep you guessing. and you let him, which might be the strangest part of all.

… because deep down, you know this isn’t just friendship. not with the way he looks at you, his gaze lingering a second too long, or the way his touch always feels like a question he’s waiting for you to answer.

but maybe that’s the thing about blurry lines—they give you just enough room to pretend you don’t already know where you’re headed.

yet, even with all his teasing, there’s a hesitancy to him sometimes—a split-second pause when your hands brush, a quiet shift in his expression when he catches you looking at him. it’s like he’s still figuring out how to balance whatever this is between you, testing the waters but not wanting to dive in too fast.

and honestly?

you feel the same.

it’s why you let him get away with stuff like this. why you don’t pull away when his hand accidentally-on-purpose brushes yours for the third time in as many minutes. why you don’t tell him to stop following you to your study spot or showing up outside your class with some excuse about “just being in the area.”

because the truth is, you like having him around. 

you like the way he keeps you on your toes… even if it’s by trying to trip you up, only to catch you before you fall.

and maybe—just maybe—you like the way his smile softens sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking.

tonight, the group decides on a night out.

the street food spot everyone agreed on is already buzzing when you get there, the warm glow of string lights crisscrossing above the narrow alleyways, casting soft shadows on the busy stalls below. the air is alive with the scent of sizzling tteokbokki and freshly steamed hotteok, mingling with bursts of laughter and the occasional pop of oil from a nearby grill.

you arrive late as usual. 

by the time you weave your way through the crowd, the others have scattered, splitting up to hunt down whatever caught their eye. 

that’s when you spot him.

jungkook leans lazily against a lamppost near the edge of the main street, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a stick of half-eaten odeng. the glow from the lights above reflects faintly in his dark eyes, making them look warmer than usual, though his expression stays comfortably neutral—like he’s been waiting.

but he doesn’t mind.

“you’re late,” he says as you approach, not even bothering to straighten up. his voice is low, unbothered, but there’s something teasing in the way his lips twitch into the barest hint of a smirk.

“i’m literally 5 minutes late.”

“still late.”

jungkook takes one last bite of the fish cake before tossing the stick into a nearby bin. he steps closer, casual but deliberate, and before you can come up with a snappy reply, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

it’s smooth—too smooth.

it’s like he’s been doing it forever.

you barely have time to register the warmth blooming in your chest before he’s grabbing your hands, shoving them unceremoniously into the front pocket of his hoodie along with his own.

“jungkook—”

“your hands looked cold,” he says simply, his tone light, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

his fingers shift slightly, brushing against yours, and though his expression stays neutral, you catch the subtle curve of his mouth—the smug kind he tries to hide but never quite manages.

you roll your eyes, more out of habit than anything else, and let out a sigh...

but you don’t pull away.

“i have gloves.”

“they're ugly."

you glare at him.

"... and you have me."

the air stills.

“what?” he asks, his shoulder bumping yours as he starts walking, steering you toward the first row of stalls.

“nothing.”

but the corner of your mouth twitches. you try to hold back your smile.

he catches it, of course. 

his grin widens, soft and slow.

jungkook nudges you again, this time with more intention. you can feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric, steady and sure, even as the cold night air bites at your skin.

you can't help but give in. a laugh escapes your lips as you nudge him back. jungkook laughs too, but pulls you close at the very last second.

he breathes you in.

the first stall serves fresh tteokbokki, steaming and spicy. the scent alone makes your stomach growl, but jungkook is already a step ahead, paying for the food before you can reach for your wallet.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you say, trying to grab a pair of chopsticks from the tray.

he beats you to it, of course, picking up a piece of tteokbokki with the kind of exaggerated precision that makes you squint at him. then, he places the chopsticks in between your fingers.

“feed me," he says.

“absolutely not."

he steps closer. 

“okay, fine. i’ll feed you—”

you shove the tteok in his mouth. 

he chews, chuckling and enjoying your choice. 

“you’re so annoying,” you tell him as he swallows.

“really? am i?”

“really. you are."

jungkook shrugs. 

then, he takes the chopsticks and picks up a tteok, and feeds you. he watches closely as you chew, his wide eyes fixed on your face in a way that makes you feel exposed.

“how annoying?”

in between chews, you fixate on his smirk. as he leans into level with you, you almost choke at how his nose nearly brushed yours. you can feel the weight of his gaze, daring you to say something.

“jungkook…” you warn, your voice flat, but your hands betray you. they reach up to cup his cheeks, and though your intention is to shove him back, you don’t.

instead, your thumbs press lightly against the soft skin of his jaw as you squint at him.

“what’s this smile?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. “what are you so excited over, bestie?”

his expression flickers for a second, his brows twitching in annoyance at the word. you know he hates it when you call him that. bestie? who are you even talking to?

“your lips look cold. can i warm them up for you?” he asks suddenly, his voice dropping low enough to send shivers down your spine.

you scoff, warmth creeping up your neck. “nice try—”

“no, no, i insist,” he interrupts, tilting his head slightly, pretending to think it over. “don't want you to be all cold and shit.”

“jungkook.” your tone is sharp, but it’s laced with amusement, and he knows it.

“what?” he murmurs, leaning in closer, his lips curving into a smirk. “you said you want to take things slow. i’ll kiss you real slow—”

your jaw drops. 

“you’re impossible.”

he stands back up with a grin, his hands still in the pocket of his hoodie, keeping yours snugly tucked inside. he rocks back on his heels, clearly pleased with himself. 

“let’s not pretend we don’t know what we know.”

“i don’t know much,” you retort, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “i’m not a nerd—”

“yah! hurry up!” taehyung’s voice booms from a stall across the street, breaking the moment. you glance over to find him waving dramatically, his other arm slung around yoongi, who looks less than thrilled. 

“we found the mandu!” taehyung adds.

“mandu sounds good,” jungkook says as he gives your hands a small squeeze. then, he gently pulls you toward the others. "let's go." 

“stop dragging me around,” you complain, though you don’t actually try to pull away.

“you’re walking too slow.”

but you aren’t. 

you know you aren’t and so does he… but you let him hold your hand anyway.

a week later, jungkook feels like he might piss himself.

he leans against the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone for the 5th time in as many minutes. his thumb hovers over the screen, debating whether to check his messages again, even though he knows there’s no point. 

you haven’t replied yet.

the fundraiser for marine conservation is tonight, and he’s been pretending it’s no big deal... but fuck.

he was so nervous when he asked you to go with him and now he feels like all his efforts are being wasted.

...

“so, uh,” he starts, his voice a little too casual, “there’s this fundraiser gala thing on friday night. save the dolphins thing—a-and… it’s no big deal but—”

you glance at him, eyebrows raised. 

“yeah? sounds fancy.”

he shrugs, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “i guess it is. it’s a black-tie kind of event… and i, uh… i was thinking... maybe you’d want to come with me?”

you blink, caught off guard by the sudden invite. 

“i hate dolphins.”

“i know.”

you sigh, pretending to be burdened by his request. “but i’ll go. if you want me to.”

“i do want you to.”

“okay.”

“good,” he breathes, glancing over with a lopsided grin that he hopes hides how nervous he actually feels. “you’ll make me look good. people are suckers for pretty dates.”

“oh, so you’re using me as a prop?” you tease, though your lips twitch into a smirk.

“obviously,” he replies smoothly, though his grip on the wheel tightens slightly. “but, hey, it’s a dinner, you get to see my in a tux which is practically dessert—.”

you shake your head, laughing softly. 

“you’re ridiculous.”

“so ridiculous that this can count as our first date?” he presses, glancing over again, this time with a flicker of uncertainty he hopes you don’t catch.

after a beat, you sigh dramatically, turning in your seat to face him. 

“it’s a date.”

just as he’s about to make another comment, you lean over and press a quick kiss to his cheek, catching him completely off guard. his hands freeze on the wheel for half a second before he recovers.

“you missed—”

you laugh and hit his chest. then, he gets out of the car, helps you out, and walks you to your doorstep. 

...

now, as he sits alone in his room, the anticipation bubbling just under his skin, his phone buzzes on the counter. his heart skips for a moment before he grabs it, only to feel it sink as he reads your message.

yn [4:31PM]: nurse said it’s food poisoning  yn [4:32PM]: she gave me some meds to help but i literally feel like shit  yn [4:33PM]: i don’t think i’ll be able to make it tonight, baby :( i’m so sorry nerd [4:34PM]: don’t apologize. i’ll be over in a bit yn [4:35PM]: what ?? no !! get ready for your event. it’s important nerd [4:35PM]: so are u yn [4:36PM]: i’ll survive. go save the dolphins :p

his brows knit together as he reads it again, leaning back into the couch with a frustrated sigh.

he knows he shouldn’t feel disappointed—you can’t control being sick, and it’s not like this event means anything special. 

at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself.

still, he stares at the message for a long moment, debating whether to reply right away or wait a few minutes so he doesn’t seem too eager. his fingers hover over the keyboard before he finally types out a response, keeping it short and light, like he’s unbothered.

nerd [4:40PM]: get some rest. i’ll be telling everyone you ditched me tho  yn [4:41PM]: be sure to let the dolphins know too 🙂

he lets out a chuckle, but the weight in his chest doesn’t go away. 

he tosses his phone onto the coffee table and rakes a hand through his hair, wondering why the idea of showing up without you feels so much worse than he’d expected.

then, his phone buzzes with messages from the fundraiser committee. 

yet, he can only think of you… it’s a sinking feeling in his chest. 

you’re sick. 

the thought of going to that event while you’re home feeling miserable doesn’t sit right with him.

he sighs, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his head. he knows this is unprofessional and such an pussy excuse but—forget the event. 

it’s you that matters to him the most right now. 

so, jungkook calls his event and lets them know that something came up. he tosses aside his tux and puts on comfier clothes before heading to the kitchen to make you some chicken noodle soup.

before he heads out, jungkook hears a familiar groan from the living room. he turns, already annoyed, knowing exactly who it is.

jimin and taehyung are stretched out on the couch, looking like they’ve been hit by a truck. 

their faces are pale, eyes glassy with fever, and they groan as they shift under the blanket. it’s obvious they’re just as sick as you, if not worse.

“yo, jungkook,” taehyung calls out, voice nasally, “did you make soup? be a good boy and give us some—” 

jimin, equally pitiful, sits up a little and gives jungkook a pleading look. “yeah, we’re starving, man. plus, you’re not gonna leave us to die alone, right?”

jungkook raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“you won’t die from starvation.”

“how are you so sure?”

“cos i’ll kill you first,” jungkook snorts. “you guys got my girl sick with that stupid omelet you made her.”

the two of them groan in response, sitting up slowly. taehyung rubs his face with his hand. “we didn’t mean to! bro, look at us. you think we wanted this? we’re sick, too, you know.”

“yeah,” jimin adds, “there’s two friends sick here for you to take care of.”

jungkook just looks at them, his gaze hard. 

“who do you think i’m gonna choose right now?”

jimin squints, looking him up and down. “don’t you have that gala tonight?”

jungkook hesitates for a split second, but quickly shakes his head, giving them a dismissive wave. 

“it got canceled.” he lies. 

then, he turns away to head out the door. before he leaves he yells; “i’ll text yoongi hyung to make you some soup. don’t bother me. not coming home tonight.”

about 25 minutes later, jungkook stands in front of your doorway and his gaze falls on you as you open the door.

you're wearing his oversized t-shirt, hair up in a messy bun, and a pair of shorts—looking exhausted and a little pale. his stomach churns with worry, but he keeps his cool as always.

"what are you doing here? the gala..." you trail off, but before he can answer, you quickly turn and rush to the bathroom.

"shit," he mutters under his breath, following you at a steady pace.

when he enters the bathroom, you're already kneeling over the toilet, retching. his heart drops, but he doesn’t flinch. moving to your side, he gently pats your back.

“it was this bad?” he grumbles, a frown pulling at his lips. “why were you downplaying it through text?”

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, barely acknowledging him.

“i’m fine, seriously. just... just a little nausea.”

“fuck, ___..” he snaps, but his voice isn’t angry, more like exasperated. "this is stupid. you can’t be alone if you can’t even handle standing up to get the door without throwing up. are you fucking serious?." his eyes are narrowing now, the concern clear despite his snappy tone. “what the hell, ___?"

you sit back on the floor, leaning against the wall, your face pale. 

“i already bailed on the date. i couldn’t let you bail on the gala entirely.”

he shoots you a look, incredulous. 

“you think I’d rather be at a gala without you? honestly?”

“i just—"

“shut up,” he interrupts, his voice softer but firm. "you need someone. i’m here. deal with it."

there’s no room for argument in his voice.

you give him a tired smile despite the situation, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“you shouldn’t be here, though.”

“say that again.”

your lips tighten.

then, you gag and rush back to the toilet bowl. jungkook remains by your side, rubbing your back as you deal with another wave of nausea.

the moment is quiet except for the soft sounds of you breathing in between. for a second, it almost feels like everything has stopped, like it’s just the two of you in your small bathroom, nothing else in the world mattering.

after 40 minutes of hovering over the toilet, jungkook gets you settled on the couch.

he brings you water and asks if you’re down for some food. he brought over chicken noodle soup and you need to have something in your stomach before taking your medicine. you simply agree and wait for him to serve you. 

as you eat the soup, he scrolls through netflix and plays something. he talks for most of it and it helps distract you from feeling the full extent of your sickness. after you’ve eaten some of the soup he brought, you ask him to grab the medicine from your bag. 

“can you grab the other medicine bottle from my bag? the one the nurse gave me?”

jungkook, of course, doesn’t hesitate. 

he gets up and finds your bag in your bedroom. he pulls open your bag and begins rummaging through it, looking for the bottle. when his hand brushes against something thick and solid, he pulls out a book titled, “everything you need to know about dolphins a to z.”

his eyebrows furrow for a second as he stares down at it.

he doesn’t know why, but a strange warmth spreads through him. it’s pretty obvious why you have this book—but seeing it in your bag... it makes him pause.

his lips tighten slightly as he puts the book back down in your bag, quickly hiding his reaction. he doesn’t want you to see how much it’s affecting him right now.

when he returns with the medicine, his expression’s back to its usual, nonchalant self. as much as jungkook wants to pretend like he didn’t see it or that seeing it didn’t matter—he can’t. 

to him, it mattered. 

it mattered a lot.

a few days later, you’re sitting across from jungkook in the library. 

the late afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows and casting a golden glow over the table. textbooks and notebooks are scattered between you, his handwriting messier than yours but still oddly charming. you’re mid-sentence, asking him about his opinion on a the newest theory you learned during your lecture when he suddenly tugs off his crewneck, revealing the black t-shirt clinging to his frame underneath.

it’s warm in the library, the kind of cozy heat that sneaks up on you, and he doesn’t think twice about it. 

but you do.

“woah—” you blurt out, your question forgotten as your gaze catches on his arms. you've seen his tattoos before but for some reason... they look different to you now.

they appeal different to you.

jungkook looks up from his notes, brows raised.

“what?”

you blink, trying to refocus, but your eyes betray you, flickering back to the ink winding its way down his arm. 

“your tattoos,” you say, almost dazed. “they’re... really hot.”

“think so?”

“yeah,” you admit. “gets me horny. ”

you then feel the warmth crawl up your neck as the words leave your mouth. you quickly look back down at your notes, hoping the earth might just swallow you whole.

jungkook freezes for a moment, the tips of his ears turning the faintest shade of pink. then he shakes his head, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. it’s not his usual confident grin—it’s softer, like he’s caught off guard but not in a bad way.

he doesn’t say anything, just ducks his head slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.

you try to ignore the way he shifts in his seat, casually stretching his arms behind his head like he’s showing off—not that he’d ever admit it...

for the next two weeks, jungkook suddenly seems allergic to long sleeves. 

he starts showing up in short-sleeved t-shirts, rolling his sleeves higher than necessary when he wears his uniform jacket, and leaning in just a little closer when he knows your gaze will drift.

“you’re shameless,” you mumble one day, catching him flexing—not subtly—while reaching for a book on the top shelf.

“what?” he asks innocently, glancing down at you with those wide eyes that don’t match the smirk tugging at his lips.

you roll your eyes, biting back a grin.

“you’re annoying.”

“why? are you horny?” he says, his voice low enough to make you want to shove him.

you don’t answer, but the way you avoid his gaze—and the small smile tugging at your lips—says enough. he notices, of course, because he always does.

after a few moments of silence, you huff at him.

"is everything you say always so... dirty?"

he shrugs.

"you brought up being horny first..."

"yeah, but—"

"you think i'm dirty?" jungkook interrupts you. "should i shower?"

you scoff at him. before you can say anything, he adds;

"you’d join me though, right?"

a month later, jungkook does it again. 

you find yourself standing in the middle of your apartment—he shows up.

your phone is clutched tightly in your hand as you try to blink away the tears threatening to spill. the call you just had—a frustrating, heart-wrenching argument with your family—leaves you feeling raw and small. the weight of their words presses heavily on your chest, and all you can do is stare blankly at the mess of papers scattered on your desk.

a sharp knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. you freeze, wiping at your cheeks hastily, but the door creaks open before you can say anything.

"is that my hoodie?"

"jungkook—"

“you haven't been answering my texts all day,” jungkook says, stepping in without waiting for an invitation. he’s holding a bag of takeout.

"everything okay?"

“i’m fine,” you say, your voice shaky despite your best efforts to sound convincing.

he narrows his eyes at you, placing the takeout and hoodie on your coffee table before crossing his arms.

“yeah, no.”

you try to argue, but he’s already moving, shrugging off his jacket and plopping onto the couch like he owns the place.

“whatever it is, you don’t have to talk about it right now,” he says, pulling out containers of food. “but you do have to eat. and i’m not leaving until you do.”

your throat tightens at his matter-of-fact tone, his presence somehow both comforting and overwhelming. he doesn’t pry, doesn’t demand to know what happened.

“you didn’t have to come,” you murmur, sinking onto the couch beside him.

“yeah, i did,” he replies, handing you a pair of chopsticks. “and don’t even think about pretending you’re not hungry.”

a small, shaky laugh escapes you, the tension in your chest loosening just a little.

“you’re so annoying.”

“friends are supposed to annoy each other. learned that shit from you.”

jungkook’s door swings open with a suddenness that startles him. 

the faint squeak of the hinges cuts through the quiet. he’s mid-motion, towel slung around his neck, tugging a loose white shirt over his head when you stroll in without so much as a knock. he’s also wearing grey sweatpants… 

wet hair, white shirt, and grey sweats? 

the holy trinity.

“you know,” he begins to scold you. “boundaries exist for a reason.”

he shakes his damp hair as you plop onto his bed like it’s yours.

“boundaries?” you scoff, grabbing your plushie. your precious hello kitty plushie. “this is practically my second home.”

he doesn’t argue, just lets out a quiet chuckle as he pulls the hem of his shirt down. 

holding up the plushie like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. “can i take her home today?”

“sure,” jungkook says, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of teasing confidence and barely veiled challenge. he leans against his desk, arms crossed, watching with a smirk as you clutch the hello kitty plushie tightly to your chest, as if it’s your only lifeline against his charm. 

“can i be your boyfriend today?”

you groan, throwing yourself back onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, the plushie landing on your face. 

“seriously? you’re really holding this poor plushie hostage?”

he laughs, low and amused, pushing off the desk and taking a few steps closer. 

“a deal’s a deal,” he says lightly, but there’s a glint in his eyes as he towers over you. “you can take her home—when you’re my girl.”

you yank the plushie off your face, sitting up sharply. 

“do you think we’re better friends?” you huff, your tone indignant but your heart racing under the weight of his gaze. 

jungkook crouches slightly, leaning in until his face is just a few inches from yours. his smirk softens into something more playful, but the shift in proximity makes your stomach flip. 

“i think so…” he murmurs, his eyes flickering between your face and the plushie pressed against your chest. “aside from me trying to kiss you every chance i get and you being horny every time you see my tattoos—”

you narrow your eyes at him, holding the plushie tighter, as if it’s a shield against the way he’s looking at you. 

“you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet,” he starts, his voice dropping an octave as he moves even closer, one hand bracing on the bed beside your knee, the other reaching out to gently brush his fingers over the plushie’s soft fabric. “here you are.”

his free hand slides around your waist, tugging you just slightly toward him, and your breath hitches. “but if you don’t want her…” he teases, his voice trailing off as his face inches closer to yours. his gaze dips briefly to your lips, and before you can fully process it, he’s leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

except you shove hello kitty between you two just in time.

“nope!” you say quickly, holding the plushie up like a barrier, your cheeks flaming as you hear him laugh, the sound vibrating through the air between you.

“seriously?” he says, pulling back just enough to raise an eyebrow, though his grin never falters. his hand stays firm at your waist, his thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt in slow, lazy circles. “you’re really using her to block me?”

“you started it,” you shoot back, glaring at him even as your grip on the plushie tightens.

“fair,” he admits with a chuckle, straightening up slightly but keeping his hold on you. his other hand moves to tap the plushie’s head. “but the deal still stands. not my girlfriend, not your hello kitty.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

he tilts his head, his grin softening, though his hand still lingers at your waist, his warmth impossible to ignore. 

“i don’t know,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost coaxing. “sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

you glare at him again, this time with less heat, and shove the plushie into his chest.

“you’re insufferable.”

he laughs, taking the plushie from your hands but not letting you go.

“maybe,” he says, “but you’re still here.”

hours later, the room is quiet except for the soft scratch of jungkook’s pen against paper and the occasional shuffle of his chair as he shifts at his desk. you’re curled up on his bed, the hello kitty plushie still clutched against your chest, your breaths slow and steady as sleep overtakes you.

he glances back at you every now and then, a small, unspoken fondness softening his features. when you stir, rubbing your eyes and sitting up, he turns back to his notes, feigning nonchalance.

you pad over to him, your steps muffled against the carpet. without a word, you slip onto his lap, one arm draping lazily over his shoulders as you pluck his glasses from his face.

“good nap?” he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation as you slide the frames onto your own nose. “those—”

squinting dramatically, you nag him; “ugh, how do you even function with these? everything’s blurry.”

“that’s because they’re prescription, genius,” he says, reaching for them, but you lean back, keeping them out of his reach.

“maybe i’ll keep these,” you tease, poking at the side of his head. “you can’t study without them, can you?”

“give them back, or i’m kicking you off my lap,” he warns, though his hands settle firmly on your waist instead of following through on his threat.

“yeah, sure... because you hate this so much.”

“try me,” he challenges, his grip tightening just slightly as if to prove his point.

“you’re so bossy,” you grumble, sliding the glasses off and placing them haphazardly on his desk. “happy now?”

“ecstatic,” he says dryly, though his lips twitch upward.

you lean closer, your face just inches from his, your playful smirk softening into something quieter, more genuine. 

“you know, you’re really cute when you’re all serious, studious, and grumpy.”

“and you’re kind of annoying when you don’t let me finish studying,” he shoots back, though there’s no real bite to his words.

“fine, fine,” you say, preparing to climb off his lap with exaggerated dramatics. “go be a nerd. i’ll be over there cuddling hello kitty—”

“i could use a 5 minute break.”

you fix your posture, perking up. 

“really?” you tilt your head at him. “i mean… i’d hate to distract you.”

“really?” he mocks you. “you’re sitting on my lap and moving your hips and yet—you’d hate to distract me, huh?”

you nod innocently. then, you shrug and confess;

“i’m bored.”

“what do you want me to do about that? this final is really important—f-fuck. ___, don’t move like that.”

you shift again. 

“like what?”

“you know what you’re—”

“what am i doing?” you ask, leaning your body closer to his. you caress his face and pout at him. “is 5 minutes even considered a break? don’t you need more time?”

“more time for what?” jungkook lowers his gaze at you. 

“i don’t know,” you giggle. “what do you wanna do?”

jungkook can’t take it. 

playing cat and dog or whatever this bullshit is. 

you’re on top of him, prettier than ever. you’re wearing a low-cut tank top with a fucking bow in the middle… and he can’t breathe anything in except you. what is he supposed to do right now? 

“___… if you don’t get off me—”

“if i don’t get off you… what?”

you smile at him softly. shifting again, you drag your hips towards him. his eyes widen. 

“i might cum.”

you pout. “really?”

jungkook swallows. 

“keep moving your hips like that and you’ll find out soon.”

“oh…”

a beat. 

“like this?”

before he knows it, you’re humping him. 

he grunts as he feels himself harden under you. you bite your bottom lip as you drag your hips back and forth. you feel the pressure against your clit as your clothes rub together. 

jungkook hisses at your pace. 

“f-fuck..”

as he bucks his lips, he places his hands on your waist, helping your movement. you let out a few breathy moans and jungkook feels like he could die. 

you’re so pretty. 

his hands tighten around you when he senses that you’re close. 

“am i doing this right? it feels—feels g-good.”

“yeah? feels good, baby?” jungkook breathes.

“mhmm…”

“do you feel my dick?” he asks. “feel how hard it is against your fucking pussy?”

“i do,” you moan. “so big, jungkook. can i take it soon?”

he hisses. 

“promise me,” you whine. “promise me that you’ll fuck me soon.”

jungkook’s breath hitches. 

he was wrong. 

that time he ran his mouth about your virginity being too much or a burden or something—fuck was he wrong. 

it’s not a burden.

it’s the greatest privilege he could ever be given… now to have you like this? begging like that? holy shit is he more than ready to give you anything and everything you want. 

“promise, baby,” he says. “promise it’s gonna be me.”

you nod, happy with his answer. 

and just as you’re about to continue, you take his hands to your tits. first, he squeezes them… then you guide them to the strap of your tank top. taking the cue, jungkook tugs your straps down, revealing your bare tits. 

“___…” he moans. “shit.”

you bring his hands to your tits again, helping him cup them. as you hump him with more intensity, jungkook’s mouth parts. your tits bounce up and down and it sends shivers down his spine. your tits are so full in his hands and so fucking perfect up close. he loves all of it—the shape, the size, the way it feels… so soft. he’s always been an ass type of guy but holy shit—your tits are a game changer for him. 

nevertheless, he tries to focuses on you. 

“bouncy.”

“yeah?” you pant. “you like them?”

jungkook nods pathetically. 

he fights shutting his eyes. he wants to remember all of this. every detail. 

how hard he is right now. how hard your nipples are and how they feel being played in between his fingers. he runs his thumb around them, pressing, squeezing, and tugging… he loves how your moans sound—like they’re music to his ears… he can’t… he can’t picture anything else. he can’t hear anything else. he can’t breathe anything in but you.

“jungkook…” you cry, feeling yourself about to climax.

“s-shit,” he hisses as you begin to whimper. 

the humping is great. 

amazing in fact—but the way you’re whimpering right now? 

fuck.

“jungkook,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath. “a-are you close? mhmmm… f-fuck!” 

you hump him faster and harder. he lets out a few moans before sharply inhaling—

“o-ohh,” jungkook moans. “nghhhh… fuck.”

you grind on him slowly, easing his release. his crotch area is wet, making an obvious stain on his grey sweatpants.

he throws his head back. you lean over and kiss his neck. he bites his lip, attempting to hide his smile. 

a silence fills the room. 

you two are in total disbelief. 

then, you shift and he places his hands on your waist again. 

“did you cum?” 

he lets out a chuckle. “yeah. did you?”

“i think so? i don’t know.”

“sorry,” he sighs, a little disappointed you didn’t get to finish. “do you wanna—”

“it’s fine that i didn’t come. i had fun…”

jungkook shakes his head. “no, it’s okay. i can—”

“can i see?”

jungkook blinks at you. 

“what?”

“you came right?”

“yeah—”

“can i see what your cum looks like?”

some days with jungkook are so easy, it’s almost laughable.

the dynamic feels less like a friendship and more like a game you’re both playing—teasing, flirting, seeing how far you can push before one of you finally gives in.

but then there are days like this.

it’s been 3 month and a half since the kiss, and the comfort between you has grown in a way that makes everything feel light, almost effortless. you’re more yourself around him, and he’s let down his walls in ways you didn’t even realize were there. 

still, sometimes, you push his buttons just a little too hard.

today is one of those days.

it starts with a series of texts.

your usual banter that, for whatever reason, strikes a nerve.

maybe he’s stressed, or maybe you’re just too good at knowing exactly how to get under his skin. either way, it doesn’t take long before his responses turn clipped, each word laced with an irritation you’re not used to seeing from him.

yn [1:41PM]: C₄₃H₆₆N₁₂O₁₂S₂ nerd [1:48PM]: 😳 yn [1:50PM]: am i speaking ur language  nerd [1:53PM]: fluently, yes yn [1:54PM]: cool. dohwan taught me it  yn [1:55PM]: what does it mean nerd [1:59PM]: not funny. yn [2:00PM]: why am i laughing then seen yn [2:01PM]: aw don’t get all mad nerd [2:08PM]: not mad. jus uninterested in this topic. yn [2:10PM]: i’m sorry seen yn [2:14PM]: sorry :(  yn [2:15PM]: jungkook !!! yn [2:16PM]: wanna make out? typing… nerd [2:21PM]: yes

you don’t mean for it to escalate, but by the time you realize he’s genuinely annoyed, it’s too late to fix it over text. you bite your lip, staring at your phone, debating your next move.

and then, because you’re you, you grab your bag and head straight for his lab.

jungkook’s reputation precedes him on campus.

professors practically gloat about having him in their classes, like his achievements are trophies they get to display. it isn’t just his grades or his research—it’s the way he carries himself. sure, he's a little antisocial but he's focused, driven, and somehow still effortlessly cool.

you always knew he was smart, but seeing him in his element, tucked away in the chemistry lab during his solo hours, is something else entirely.

the lab is a world of its own.

notes scrawled in sharp, precise handwriting cover the workspace, surrounded by neatly labeled vials, bubbling solutions, and meticulous arrangements of equipment.

jungkook stands at the center of it all, wearing a crisp lab coat with the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the ink decorating his forearms. protective goggles perch on his nose, and his brows furrow as he scribbles something into a notebook. he’s intimidatingly focused, and for a moment, you hesitate in the doorway.

he notices the movement immediately, his sharp eyes snapping up to meet yours. for a beat, his expression doesn’t change, and your stomach churns with nerves under his scrutinizing gaze.

“what are you doing here?”

“i, uh…” you shift awkwardly, trying to find your footing under his intense stare. “i wanted to check on you. you seemed upset earlier.”

jungkook exhales, a hand dragging through his dark hair, slightly disheveling the strands sticking out under the goggles. his posture stiffens slightly before he stands straighter, folding his arms across his chest. 

“i’m fine,” he says, the words clipped and automatic, like he’s said them a hundred times before.

he doesn’t look at you again after that, instead turning back to the dense notebook in front of him. his pen taps against the edge of the table, a sharp, rhythmic sound that fills the silence between you.

you glance around, taking in the scrawled notes and bubbling glassware, and suddenly, you feel like an intruder.

this isn’t just a workspace; it’s his domain, and you’re a trespasser.

“right,” you whisper. “sorry. i just—”

your words catch as his head snaps up again, this time really looking at you. his dark eyes flick to the way you stand there, hands shoved deep into your jacket pockets, shoulders hunched slightly, and chewing the inside of your cheek.

the tension in his jaw softens, and he exhales again, but this time, it’s quieter, almost resigned. his shoulders relax as he sets the pen down, giving you his full attention now.

“do you want a tour?” he asks, his voice losing some of its earlier sharpness.

you blink at him, caught off guard. 

“really?”

he shrugs, a small, almost reluctant smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“yeah. just… don’t touch anything.”

you hesitate, unsure if this is a genuine offer or just him humoring you. but the way his gaze lingers—softer now, like he’s extending an olive branch—makes you take a small step forward.

“you’re sure?” you ask cautiously, your weight shifting between your feet.

“wouldn’t have offered if i wasn’t,” he says, already turning to gather a few items from the cluttered table.

his words are casual, but there’s something unspoken in the way he says them. it’s as if he’s acknowledging your effort without outright saying it, inviting you into a space you know he doesn’t share lightly.

“okay,” you say softly, stepping closer as he gestures to the setup in front of him.

jungkook guides you through the lab, his hand casually finding its way to the small of your back as he gestures to the next setup. the touch is subtle but grounding, the heat of his palm against your waist sending a quick flutter of awareness through you. his fingers rest there, steady, as he moves you along with a quiet confidence, his focus more on the equipment than the way your heart picks up its pace.

“this is my catalytic synthesis project,” he starts, motioning to the crowded workspace. his tone is calmer now, almost instructional as if falling into the rhythm of explaining makes it easier to let his guard down.

as he starts detailing his work, his body language shifts. his shoulders loosen, and the furrow in his brow disappears as he picks up a flask of pale yellow liquid. his hand moves with precise confidence, holding it up to the light as if to showcase his work.

“what does that even mean?” you ask, leaning in closer to inspect the array of equipment.

“it’s about creating biodiesel,” he explains, holding up a sheet of paper covered in equations and diagrams. “basically, i’m optimizing the reaction process to make it more efficient. fewer byproducts, higher yield.”

you blink, squinting at the equations like they might magically make sense. 

“that’s cool… i think. but how do you even do that?”

he chuckles, the sound low and surprisingly soft. 

“this,” he says, holding the flask again. “this is the feedstock. it’s like the base oil we start with. i mix it with methanol and a catalyst—”

“wait,” you interrupt, raising a hand. “what’s a catalyst?”

his lips twitch into a small grin, clearly amused by your cluelessness. 

“a catalyst is a substance that speeds up a chemical reaction without being consumed in the process.”

you nod as if you understand, but the tilt of your head gives you away.

jungkook sets the flask down and leans a hip against the table, crossing his arms loosely. “okay, think of it like this. imagine you’re cooking something. the catalyst is like the pan—it doesn’t get eaten, but it helps everything cook faster.”

“ohhh,” you say, the metaphor finally clicking. “why didn’t you just say that from the start?”

he raises an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “because i thought you were smart enough to keep up.”

“wow,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “i come here to check on you, and this is the thanks i get?”

he shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping him as he nudges your shoulder lightly with his. “first of all, you annoyed me. second of all, you’re the one who wanted a tour. i’m just giving you the full experience.”

“oh, sorry—” you let out a shallow laugh. “should i leave then—”

jungkook shakes his head and points to another setup—a small beaker bubbling over a hot plate. 

“look! this is the reaction in progress. that bubbling? that’s the methanol reacting with the oil. and over there,” he gestures to a series of tubes and a larger flask, “that’s where i separate the biodiesel from the glycerol. basically, the good stuff from the leftovers.”

you narrow your eyes at the apparatus. “this still sounds like you’re making moonshine.”

jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “i’m not making moonshine.”

“sure,” you mutter, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “that’s what someone making moonshine would say.”

he rolls his eyes, but the faint smile pulling at his lips betrays him. 

“you’re really annoying today.”

“you like me, though,” you shoot back, leaning against the table with newfound confidence.

jungkook pauses, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment too long. his lips part, and you catch a flicker of something in his expression—something softer, almost vulnerable.

“yeah,” he says quietly, almost under his breath, before turning back to his work. “i guess i do.”

as you lean over a neighboring table to inspect a beaker filled with an ominous-looking solution, your elbow bumps against it, sending it teetering dangerously close to the edge. the moment stretches out, everything moving in slow motion.

his words catch you off guard.

what did he just say?

holy—

“shit!” you yelp, reaching out instinctively to steady it. but before you can, the beaker tips over completely, the sulfuric acid inside spilling onto the floor—and dangerously close to your feet.

jungkook moves faster than you expect, his hand darting out to grab your arm as he yanks you backward with enough force to make you stumble into his chest. the acid splashes onto his hand as it hits the ground, and the sharp crack of shattering glass fills the room.

he flinches, a quiet hiss slipping through his teeth as he pulls his hand back.

“oh my god, jungkook!” you gasp, panic knotting your stomach. his hand lingers briefly on your arm before he steps away, already moving toward the nearest sink.

“stay there,” he orders, his voice clipped but steady, as he flips on the cold water and thrusts his hand under the stream.

your eyes are locked on his injured hand, where faint discoloration is already starting to show.

“are you okay? does it hurt?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“it’s fine,” he says tightly, jaw clenched as the water rushes over his skin. “are you okay? nothing got on you, right?”

you take a step closer, your gaze flicking between his face and his hand. he looks calm—too calm—but the way his lips press into a thin line tells you otherwise.

“no. nothing got on me… jungkook,” you say softly, guilt and worry twisting in your chest. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off, shaking his head as he grabs a paper towel to dry his hand. his voice isn’t harsh, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding something back. “this is why i don’t give tours.”

you wince, the weight of his words making you shrink slightly. “i—i’ll make it up to you,” you blurt, your voice desperate to fix this. “whatever you want.”

he glances at you then, finally letting out a soft, exasperated laugh. his expression softens, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smirk. 

“you’re giving me that much power?”

“jungkook,” you warn, narrowing your eyes, but your voice wavers. you’re still too focused on his hand, your own tightening into fists at your sides. “this is serious. do you want to go to nurse or hospital or something—”

“relax baby,” he says, his tone lighter now as he flexes his fingers experimentally. “it’s not that bad. really. it was just sulfuric acid.”

“acid—”

“stop,” jungkook sighs. “seriously. it’s okay.”

“you shouldn’t have done that though,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

he shakes his head, smiling faintly—half amused, half surprised by your concern. 

“what, and let you burn yourself instead?”

a beat.

"i'm dating a klutz," he chuckles, the words slipping out so naturally it takes you both a second to realize what he’s just said. his eyes widen slightly, but instead of backpedaling, "guess i should get used to you fucking my shit up, right?"

your chest tightens.

dating?

jungkook clears his throat. 

“don't over think it," jungkook grumbles.

"jungkook—"

he doesn’t let you finish, his jaw tightening.

“___, what are you doing here if you don’t think we’re dating?”

“what does that even mean?” you fire back, crossing your arms defensively. “you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to overthink it.”

“then maybe don’t think so much,” he mutters under his breath. "you're good at that anyway."

“don’t think?!” you huff incredulously, stepping closer. “jungkook, you’re impossible.”

he glares at you, setting down the equipment with a loud clink. “and you’re confusing. ___, you’re acting like—”

“acting like what?”

“like you don’t want this.”

the tension doesn’t ease as you both leave the lab. 

he grabs his bag, muttering something about not wanting to talk here, and before you can argue, he’s already halfway down the corridor. you jog to keep up with his long strides, half-annoyed, half-confused, as he leads you across campus.

the walk is silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint chatter of students in the distance. his jaw is tight, his shoulders stiff, and you can tell he’s barely holding himself together.

“jungkook...” you try, your voice softer this time, but he doesn’t respond, doesn’t even glance back.

by the time you reach his place, your confusion has morphed into frustration. 

he unlocks the door without a word, stepping inside and leaving it open for you to follow.

you hesitate for a moment, then step in, the familiar scent of his space wrapping around you. before you can say anything, he drops his bag on the floor and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“sit,” he orders, pointing to his bed.

your brows knit together.

“i’m not a dog,” you snap, but the weight in his tone makes you obey anyway. you sit at the edge of his bed, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his already messy hair. his pacing starts then, a restless back-and-forth motion across the small room. the air feels heavy, thick with unspoken words and the lingering tension from earlier.

“okay,” he starts, his voice low and strained. “let’s just… get this out in the open.”

you raise a brow, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. instead, he keeps pacing, his hand dragging down his face as if he’s trying to physically pull the words out of himself.

“get what out in the open?” you prod, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “jungkook, what’s your deal? one second you’re fine, and the next—”

“fine?” he cuts you off, his tone sharper now. he stops pacing to face you, his hands planted on his hips. “you think i’m fine?”

you blink, taken aback.

“well, no, obviously not. but you’re also not making any sense—”

“you want to talk about making sense?” he scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping him. “you’re the one who’s impossible, you know that? one minute you’re here, acting like we’re—like this is something, and the next you’re…”

“the next i’m what?” you challenge, standing now. “go ahead, say it.”

jungkook looks at your sternly. then, he gives you his heart.

“i can’t keep doing this, ___. i need to know—are you in or are you out? because i get the whole wanting to make me miserable part. i get it. i’ve been awful to you. i’ve put words in your mouth and i’ve said shit that i can’t take back… but i’m trying. it feels like you aren’t.”

the weight of his words crashes over you, leaving you rooted in place. you want to respond, to say something, but the lump in your throat won’t budge.

he steps closer, his eyes searching yours.

“just… tell me what you want. because if you don’t want me, i need to know now.”

the silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating. you feel his gaze burning into you, his desperation palpable.

“i don’t know how to have you,” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

his shoulders drop, and for the first time since this started, he looks less angry and more… hurt.

“what do you mean?” he asks, his tone gentler now.

“i don’t know,” you breathe. “i’ve never… gone this far. guys give up after the chase… you’re… you’re still here. what happens now? sex?”

he shrugs. "is that all you want?"

"no."

"then no."

silence.

“___, i'm here. i've come this far and i want to go further. sex or not—whatever,” he says, taking another step closer, his hand reaching out to lightly brush against your arm. “is that what scares you?”

you nod.

“am i… am i supposed to just—” your chest tightens, and the room feels too small, too charged. his words hang in the air, and you know there’s no going back after this. “i don’t know—”

“why are you here, ___?”

“you asked me that already.” you retort.

“yeah, and you didn’t answer,” he shoots back.

you sigh, exasperated. “i’m here because—i don’t know… you’re my friend, okay? or whatever.”

his laugh is sharp and humorless. “friend. right.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means i don’t want to be your friend,” he says plainly, his eyes burning into yours. “i haven’t wanted that for a while now.”

your breath catches. “jungkook—”

he steps closer, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you. but he stops just short, his voice low and rough. 

“i want you to stop pretending like there’s nothing here. i want you to stop running every time i get close.”

you open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat.

“again, if you don’t want this—me—then tell me,” he continues, his voice softening. “but don’t keep showing up, acting like i don’t drive you as crazy as you drive me. don’t… please, don’t make me feel stupid.”

the room feels too small, the air too thick.

jungkook’s hand lingers on your arm, his touch grounding even as your heart races wildly. his dark eyes search yours, flickering with emotions you can’t fully decipher—hurt, hope, frustration.

“you don’t have to know everything right now,” he says softly, his voice carrying a steadiness that contrasts with the storm raging between you. “i’m not asking for perfect, ___. i’m not even asking for easy. i just…” he exhales shakily, the vulnerability in his tone cutting through your defenses. “i just need to know you’re willing to try.”

your throat tightens, his words hitting you in a place you’ve tried so hard to ignore. the thought of trying—of letting yourself fall completely, with no safety net—terrifies you. but the thought of him walking away? it’s unbearable.

“i want you,” you whisper, the fear laced in your voice so raw it feels like you’ve just exposed every guarded corner of yourself. “i want you, jungkook.”

his fingers trail down your arm, stopping just above your wrist. 

“say it again,” he says, his tone almost exasperated, but not unkind. “please?”

you bite your lip, the weight of his words pressing down on you. everything about this moment feels pivotal, like a single word could either shatter or rebuild everything between you.

“i want you, jungkook,” you admit, your voice trembling but resolute. “i… i want us.”

his expression softens, relief washing over his features like a tidal wave.

“good,” he murmurs, stepping closer, so close that his scent—clean, familiar, entirely jungkook—invades your senses. then, his hands come up, gently cradling your face as he tilts your chin up to meet his gaze.

“i… i want us too. i think it’s all i ever really wanted. to be yours…”

his thumbs stroke your cheeks, and before you can overthink it, he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. the tension in the room shifts, softening but no less charged.

“does this mean i get to take hello kitty home today?” you whisper, your voice barely audible. 

“is that all you really care about?” he says, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. 

“i care about other things.”

“like what?”

“like you.”

and then he kisses you.

you and jungkook have been dating for 6 months when you suddenly say; "happy 6 months, baby! wanna have sex?"

jungkook practically jolts out of his bed and takes the plushie. he places it on his desk and turns hello kitty over to face the wall. (no, you haven't taken it home. for some reason, it suits being in jungkook's room more than yours).

you laugh as he turns back to you and says;

"good timing, ___. i'm ovulating."

jungkook can't breathe.

… and you? you never expected it to feel this way. 

the thrill of it… the intensity—the intimacy. 

as jungkook towers over you, he pulls his shirt over his head. the minute his chest is bare, your hands find your way to roam around his body. his abs, his biceps, and down his—

“wait,” jungkook pleads, eyes hungrily looking into yours. “wanna take this slow with you. wanna do it right for you.”

you nod slowly, understanding what he means. 

the truth is; your virginity is your virginity.

there isn’t much to it aside from that the fact that it’s not taken. you were never wronged but you were also never pursued right… sure, it’s special… but it isn’t everything. 

jungkook treats it like it is though. 

you don’t mind. 

for the past 6 months, he's been really careful with how he acts around you sexually. sure, a few pussy eating moments and heated make outs have been happening... but not the full thing. actually, you've never really seen jungkook's dick yet.

he refuses to let you give him a blowjob.

said something about how easy it is for him to cum at the thought of you—he isn't ready to embarrass himself in front of you just yet.

but today, at your 6 month mark, it's different.

jungkook can't hold it in anymore and you showed up extra pretty. you planned this, didn't you?

(yes.)

gently, he helps you undress.

he takes your shirt off for you and takes a deep breath when you arch your back for him to unclasp your bra. nervously, he does so. then, he tosses your bra aside and takes in the view. 

the prettiest fucking tits he’s ever seen. 

jungkook reaches, cupping and squeezing your boobs. you watch him as he does so, unsure of what to do. 

he then lowers himself, placing kisses over your tits and down your stomach. positioning himself more comfortably, he finds himself in between your legs. lifting them up, he takes your pants off… then, his eyes flicker from you to your panties. 

his fingers play with the hem of your panties. then, he scrunches them together, tugging them up so your folds are exposed. 

“fuck,” jungkook groans. “so pretty…”

“yeah?” 

“yeah,” he breathes, watching your pussy begin to swell. “think your kitty can be good for me? think you can be patient? that’s it… good kitty.”

you tilt your chin down to look at him. 

he’s licking his lips, lowering himself down to your pussy. 

“be a good kitty, okay?” he says, as he begins to massage your pussy with his hands. your panties are still on so the friction of the fabric make you a little annoyed. 

aren’t you having sex soon?

shoudn’t this shit be off be now?

“jungkook—”

“i know, baby,” jungkook pouts at you. “i know it’s hard to wait… look at your pussy… so wet and your panties aren’t even off.”

“i get more wet than this?”

“if i play my cards right, yeah.”

you whimper. “please, jungkook… just.. take them off.”

“you want me to?”

“yes,” you huff. “want you to take my panties off.”

he nods slowly… as if he’s thinking about something—considering something.

then, he decides to give in. 

jungkook tugs your panties down entirely, leaving your pussy out in the open. he throws his head back in admiration. it’s like he’s been hit by cupid or something.

without warning, he buries his face inside. 

jungkook begins with a couple licks and spreading your folds a part. his tongue brushes against your clit—up, down, side to side—everywhere. god, you feel him everywhere. after a few licking and sucking moments, he pulls away and rubs his thumb against your clit. he spits on your pussy—letting his saliva drool down slowly. 

you watch. 

“you like that, baby? you like when i spit in your pussy?”

tongue-tied, you nod obediently. 

he grins before giving in again. 

jungkook eats you up, devouring every inch of your pussy. before you know it, he’s shoving a finger inside you as he sucks on your clit. you almost yelp at the sensation—a feeling completely new to you. 

“ohhh… yeah… f-feels so good, jungkook…” you moan, throwing your head back. 

honestly, the added finger burns. 

but he’s gentle with it. he moves his finger inside you with lots of intentions. he gradually shoves it in deeper and deeper too.. it just… it feels good. 

so good. 

you throw your head back and grab a fist full of his hair. 

“uh, uhhhh… mhmfffph—” you moan. “ohhh…. f-fuck…”

jungkook looks up and watches the way your lips twitch. how your body reacts to him eating you out… and it all just boosts his ego. 

he’s so glad to be here. 

jungkook then pulls away, taking his tongue out of the equation. he focuses on fingering you, making sure you’re enjoying the way it feels. you two catch each others gaze and continue to look into each others eyes. 

as jungkook picks up the pace fingering you, you bite your lip and love the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration. 

“f-fuck,” you utter. “i’m gonna—o-ohhh!”

you cum on his fingers. 

jungkook pulls them out, taking your cum and spreading it around your folds. he massages it in like lube before taking his fingers to his mouth. 

he tastes you. 

then, before you can catch your breath, jungkook leans down and kisses you. 

he kisses you deeply. 

when he pulls away, you ask; “c-can we…”

jungkook chuckles. 

“soon,” he assures you, tucking your hair behind your ear. he presses his lips against your cheek. 

then, his lips find yours with a hesitance that feels almost reverent, like he’s afraid to ruin something sacred. and then, slowly, he deepens the kiss—tentative at first, but with a growing confidence that feels utterly jungkook.

it’s the kind of kiss that feels like discovery. like he’s studying every angle, every curve, every reaction, cataloging them in his mind like a scholar with his favorite subject. his hands hold you as if you’re delicate but unshakable all at once, his thumbs brushing tenderly against your jawline.

when he tilts his head, changing the angle, it’s with a deliberate slowness, as though he’s savoring the moment, pulling apart the layers of this kiss to commit it to memory. you can feel the way his lips curve faintly against yours, like he’s smiling, like he’s finding joy in every second of this new experiment.

and you realize—he’s not just kissing you. 

he’s learning you.

nerd.

you gasp when he pulls you closer, your arms instinctively wrapping around his body. his lips part slightly, and the way he kisses you now feels like a question, like he’s asking for something without saying a word.

he’s meticulous, like he wants to explore every inch of you through this kiss, leaving no detail untouched. the way he holds you is tender but firm, grounding you while setting your pulse on fire.

when he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead pressing lightly against yours. his eyes flutter open, and they’re soft, full of something you can’t quite name but feel all the same.

“i want you forever,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with awe, as though he’s just unraveled the world’s most beautiful equation. 

you giggle at him. “great. can we start now?”

“way to kill the mood—”

“please, for the love of god!” you squirm. “fuck me already.”

jungkook can’t help but laugh. 

but he gives in. 

jungkook shifts out of his pants, revealing his hard cock. 

you stare at it.

it's pretty.

it's thick all around and his tip looks like it's angry. you like the way it looks though... looks delicious. his cock has you completely mesmerized. you almost want to crawl to it but he saves you the journey as he brings it close to you. 

truth be told, jungkook's a little nervous.. he doesn't want to fuck this up.

“you know…” he begins, as he jerks himself off in front of you. “i want to be mean. like, really fucking mean. i want to make you beg. i want to make you choke on my fucking cock and have you scream my name but—fuck, ___… i look at you and i can’t…. i can’t even do all i want with our fucking foreplay because i fold so easily when it comes to you. you want me to fuck you? fine. i’ll fuck you.”

“be mean,” you whimper. “come on. don’t be a pussy. just because this is my first time—f-fuck! holy shit, jungkook—”

jungkook has slowly puts his cock inside you. 

you gasp for air. 

he caresses your face as you adjust to him being inside you. then, he drags his tongue around your neck. he sucks on it a bit, causing you to grip the sheets.

“o-oh my… j-jungkook…”

“you okay, baby?” he asks, slightly moving himself in deeper. 

you take a deep breath and exhale from your mouth. “f-fuck…”

he’s so big. 

you can feel every curve of his dick and vein. when his tip entered, it felt funny. like, uncomfortable but also really fucking good. as he begins to thrust in and out, you breathe through the sharpness of his movement. 

“hurts…” you confess. 

jungkook shifts, and kisses your neck. against your skin, he murmurs; “i’m sorry, baby… do you want me to—”

“no,” you tell him, as you open your legs wider. you wrap yourself around him and hold on tight. “think… think i’m okay. can you move more?”

jungkook nods and kisses you once more. 

he begins to fuck you.

slowly but surely… he begins to drill himself into you. 

missionary isn’t his favourite but having you this way… especially for your first time? god, did he love this. as you dig your nails into his back, you whimper every time he thrusts back inside you. 

“f-fuck,” you moan. “jungkook… it’s…”

“what?” he almost panics. “a-are you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathe. “it feels good now… can you… go harder?”

jungkook hisses, feeling like he could lose his mind. 

“can we switch position?” he pitches.

you agree.

jungkook then pulls out of you, and you suddenly feel the emptiness. he goes on his knees and takes you by your waist, guiding you to turn over and go on all fours. 

doggy. 

jungkook helps you position yourself before angling himself. he licks his hand and spreads your entrance. he then guides his dick inside you. as he begins to thrust, you suddenly feel him reach around and start to rub your clit…

and oh my god. 

does it feel heavenly. 

“oh,” you hum. “feels so good.”

jungkook leans over, and kisses your shoulder. as he pulls away, he takes his other hand and grabs a fistfull of your hair. he pulls your hair back and you moan at the tightness. 

“you like that, my little bitch?” he grunts as he fucks you. 

he feels your pussy clench. then, he smriks. 

“oh? you like being called a little bitch, huh?” jungkook then takes his hand off your clit and uses it to slap your ass. "my fucking cockslut. always so fucking horny but you're just a little dirty minded virgin, right? not anymore, okay? i'm taking it. taking all your sticky fucking cum. you're all mine, baby. you know that, right? you're mine, bitch."

smack. 

your pussy tightens around his cock again. 

smack. 

you moan his name. 

“jungkook…”

he inshales shaprly and moves both hands and grabs your waist. he pulls you into him with each trust, adding more intensity. 

jungkook fucks you harder and harder and you can’t help but love the way it feels. you moan his name, whimpering pleads like; “please… please, fuck me harder.” you can’t help it… it’s the way that his hard cock feels inside you that make you say shit like that. it’s the way that his hands roam around your body and you feel him everywhere… because he is everywhere. 

his mind goes dizzy. 

he goes blank actually. 

then, when you reach back and wrap your arms around the back of your thighs—jungkook feels like he might lose it. 

how do you know how to move like that?

god, you’re so hot. 

“mhmm. that’s it…. fucking me so good, nerd.”

then, jungkook loses it. 

like… really. 

he fucks you harder and harder until you’re whimpering his name and almost near tears. he doesn’t realize how hard he’s fucking you until you’re near climax—

“i’m cumming!” you cry. “baby, i’m gonna—ahh, a-ahhh! fuck..”

it happens so fast. 

suddenly, you cum and you lose your balance. 

jungkook helps you lay down properly. he gets on top, continuing to fuck you in missionary. he fucks you through your orgasm. as you catch your breath, you feel him hiss against your skin. 

“fuck.”

just then, jungkook pulls out. 

as he jerks himself off, you tug on his hand and pout at him. he tilts his head, a little confused but quickly catches on. 

“cum right on me?”

(i mean, camaraderie)

a few seconds later, jungkook straddles your face. 

he places his dick inside you mouth and you focus on licking the tip of his dick. you do it softly, not adding much pressure. it sends shivers down his spine… then, you use the topside of oyur tongue to add more stimulation. you dig your face deep, licking his balls a little. 

he moans. 

you suck him off—slow but so fucking intense. 

jungkook can’t take it.

he places one hand on the back of your head and helps control how deep you take him. 

his dick reaches the back of your throat and it’s fucking toe-curling for jungkook. you take him in so good. as you suck him off, he can’t help but not last long. 

“ahh–aahhhh.. f-fuck—” jungkook moans deeply. “nghhh.... fuck, ___! holy fucking shit...”

jungkook pulls out seconds later and cums all over your face.

as his cum drips down your face, you catch it with your finger and look at it. 

“ohh,” you pant. “that’s what cum looks like…”

jungkook rolls his eyes at you before dipping his head low and kissing you. you two laugh as you pull away, completely in disbelief of everything that had just happened.

1 month later...

“you’re such a bad boyfriend,” you say, crossing your arms dramatically as you sit on the couch, watching jungkook fiddle with the back of your laptop.

he pauses, turning his head slowly to look at you over his shoulder. his glasses are sliding down his nose, his hair is a bit messy from pushing it back so many times, and he looks entirely unimpressed.

“bad boyfriend?” he repeats, sounding genuinely offended. “you asked me to fix your laptop. i'm a chem major, not tech.”

“smart boyfriends are supposed to be well rounded."

he glares at you. "again. you asked me to fix your laptop. i'm doing my best, baby."

"yeah, but like... i asked you over an hour ago,” you tease, leaning back and pretending to sigh. “you’ve been ignoring me ever since.”

“ignoring you?” he scoffs, turning back to the tangled mess of wires. “i’m literally upgrading your RAM so you can stop complaining about how slow it is. if anything, i’m the best boyfriend.”

you hum thoughtfully, pretending to consider it. “debatable. the best boyfriend wouldn’t make me sit here in silence while he nerds out over motherboards or whatever.”

“okay, first of all,” he says, setting the screwdriver down and turning to you fully now, “it’s not ‘whatever.’ this is your motherboard’s lifeline. without it, you don’t get to binge your little dramas.”

“so you’re saying you’re not doing this for me—you’re doing it for the laptop?”

“i’m doing it so you don’t keep stealing my ipad to ‘watch just one more episode’ and kill my battery in two hours,” he fires back, but there’s a little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips now.

you tilt your head, grinning. “i think you just proved my point.”

“fine,” he says, pulling his glasses off and tossing them onto the table. “what do i have to do to reclaim my best boyfriend title, huh? flowers? chocolates? fixing this annoying laptop isn’t enough?”

“hmm,” you pretend to think. “i’d say… maybe you stop being a nerd for five minutes and come cuddle me instead.”

he rolls his eyes but moves toward you anyway, tugging you into his lap without hesitation.

“there,” he says, wrapping his arms around you as you snuggle into his chest. “am i forgiven, or do i need to sit in front of a claw machine and lose $200 again?”

“hmm,” you hum, grinning as you tap your chin. “hello kitty does look a little lonely. but maybe she deserves a friend when you really screw up.”

“you’re planning for that?” he asks, incredulous.

“not planning,” you tease, shrugging. “just preparing. i’ve already picked cinnamon roll for when you really drop the ball.”

he stares at you for a long moment, narrowing his eyes. “you know, this feels like extortion. i bet you mess with me on purpose just to stock up on plushies.”

“maybe,” you say sweetly, poking his cheek. “but you can’t prove it.”

he sighs, leaning his head back against the couch dramatically.

“great. i’m dating a scam artist.”

“you’re dating a genius,” you correct, grinning.

“genius or not,” he counters, tightening his hold on you, “you’re stuck with me.”

you tilt your head up to look at him, biting back a laugh at the slight pout on his lips.

“wow, jungkook, that’s so nerdy of you.”

he groans, letting his head fall against your shoulder.

“i’m never fixing your laptop again. let me know when you need help naming all the isomers of butanol—"

"baby, did you hear that?"

"hear what?"

"you put the dolphins to sleep. good job! yay, your marine conservation bullshit finally came in handy—"

"wanna break up?"

"meanie."

"you're mean."

"sure, let's break up," you tell him. "how about never?"

"never?" jungkook asks, tucking your hair behind your ears. "sounds good."

you glance at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

"it's you, me, and the fucking dolphins forever, nerd."

[moonandstarshyuck]

"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him.  They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls.  He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

LN

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

LN

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

LN

Helpful. What if they were trying to  kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

[faeries-child]

No place for love part 2

OTHER PARTS: Part 1

Pairing: Azriel x oc/reader

Summary: She was the only way to get the information the spymaster needed, but he would have truly given anything not to see her again. Not to be at her mercy, completely under her control, for she awakened things in Azriel that he would rather had kept in slumber.

Warnings: Mature content, nudity, prostitution, eventual smut, mention's of SA, fighting and a lot of other triggering things :,)

NOTICE: I AM A DYSLEXIC, NOT A NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER, I WRITE THESE AT 2 AM, HAVE MERCY :)

(Also, I got some inspiration to this chapter from one of the episodes from BBC Sherlock, where there is the legendary Irene Adler)

The man under Brianna had started to annoy her. She had kept him company for hours now. Fucking him, making love to him, pleasing him however he wanted. She was tired, tired of him. His smell was all over her by now and she wanted nothing more than to wash it off in a long warm bath, that she could maybe get to enjoy later, if she succeeded in her mission. 

She was straddling him, running her hands on his chest and smiling down at him. The man was panting heavily under her, eyes closed and his hands still keeping her hips securely in place on him.

 “I do not believe I can go for another round anymore love” he said looking up at her. He seemed to be intoxicated with everything around them and especially with her. 

Brianna thanked the mother that it was over now. Now she could start the real game. “My lord, did I wear you out? but there were so many things that I still wanted to do.” She let out a fake giggle at the end to convince him of the act she was putting on before him. 

She rolled off him, leaving him on the bed. Brianna walked to the other side of the room, where her robe was abandoned on one of the many cushions that covered the floor and made up the makeshift lounging area of the room. She pulled the robe on to cover her naked body. Turning to face the man again, she smiled that vicious smile she knew to make in situations like this. 

“Tell me my lord, now that you are back from your travels, what's next?”

“Oh Brianna. Why must you remind me of that boring thing people call reality?” 

He turned on the bed so he was facing her. In his eyes Brianna could sense a bite of annoyance. But to Brianna he was a simple man, nothing more than plaything in a bigger game she got to play. Getting the right information meant that she would get to meet the high lord’s spymaster again. 

To Brianna it was fun, refreshing almost. Talking to someone who at least tried to be a gentleman. Someone who tried not to look at her only as an object to be toyed and fiddled with. 

“I was only meaning to ask so I would know if you would continue to grace us with your presence in the future. Many of my girls miss you, they would be delighted to offer their services to you.” You lied through your teeth, like hell would you let any of the girls near this man. He wasn’t the worst that there was, but if you would have been given the choice, you would have burned him to ashes before he ever laid a finger on you the first time. But at least he was simple at mind. Easy to control, easy to impress. 

“My Brianna, always so sweet tongued.” He got up from the bed, starting to collect his clothes from the floor and putting them on. “But yes, I will be staying for a while. Business in the east went well, so now me and my men are preparing for the next stage.” He spoke not realizing how much he was giving away.

Brianna could truly now tell that he wasn’t the brightest of the punch. But she had gotten enough information, it was not yet enough proof to prove anything, but at least she had something interesting to report back to the shadowsinger and the high lord. 

Brianna smiled and walked towards the man, straightening his collar while looking into his eyes. “I am sorry to inform you that our time together has now come to an end, my next client is waiting already.” 

At the right moment the doors to her champers were opened, revealing Daphne at the entrance.  “I am sorry my lord, but I must ask you to leave my lady's room now, but if you are in the mood, you can enjoy a drink downstairs at the lounge bar.” 

“Of course, and oh!” The man turned to look at Brianna before saying “I am sorry to disappoint the other girls you were speaking of, but you, my Brianna, are the only one that can satisfy my hunger.” 

He bent down at her level and kissed her as a goodbye, then smelling her neck when straightening his back. After that he left, and deep inside Brianna could feel a shiver of disgust, making her want to burn all that he had touched, including herself. 

It was wrong to say that she had gotten used to it, no one could get used to it. No matter how many times she laid with these men, every single time she imagined herself somewhere else. She wished she could put a dagger through all of their hearts. If only she had the freedom to do so. 

Daphne looked at her lady, her friend. Starting to close the door so she could have a moment to dress and gather herself. Maybe bathe as well. Daphne knew the expression on Brianna’s face, she knew that her friend needed to wash off his touch. 

“Daphne, wait.” She said looking at her friend's eyes. “I have message for you to deliver” 

“What is it Anna?” 

Brianna fully turned to her friend and smiled at her, knowing that soon she really could meet the shadowsinger again soon. 

“Send a message to the high lord and his spymaster. Tell them that I have information that they will want to hear. “

Azriel’s pov:

Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand had been enjoying a quiet evening in the townhouse when the fire message came. Cassian had Nyx sitting on his knee, the little boy was chewing a wing of black bat toy that Nesta had gotten him for a present on his 1st birthday. 

Message appeared in front of Azriel's nose, making Rhys and Cassian turn their heads towards him. “What’s that?” asked Cassian, while trying to keep the little boy still on his leg. 

“The brothel already answered you?” Rhys concluded, making the assumption based on the frown on Azriel’s face. After the visit Azriel had been quiet, at least quieter than usual, which worried Rhysand. His friend hadn’t said anything about who he had met or what had happened at the brothel. 

“Yes” was the only thing Azriel answered. Not wanting to let his brothers know how helpless he had been before the woman. 

“So this means…?” Cassian asked, trying to pry more information from his brother. 

“Me and Rhys are taking a trip to the court of nightmares” Said the shadowsinger, thinking that bringing the high lord with him, he could maybe get more serious information from the woman. 

Azriel still didn’t know her name. In his mind he had started to call her “the woman”, not knowing anything else that fit better. She was certainly no girl. Even though she was young, no one inexperienced could act that way. Her eyes had been so dark and Azriel knew that based on the little bits and pieces he had seen of her living space and life, she had seen more than most of others. 

After Gathering their weapons, they put on Hewn city-appropriate clothes so they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumb in the dark catacombs of the city that resided under their beloved house of wind.

 This time Azriel took extra care in securing daggers and truthteller on his belt, not wanting to be caught off guard. Memories of the woman haunting his mind. He had not been able to shake her from his mind. That devilish smirk entering his dreams, his shadows whispering about her every second he got. He wanted her, but at the same time he wanted to stay as far away from her as he could. Lock her up and keep her to himself, leave prythian and never see her again. 

She was going to be the end of him.

Hewn city:

Rhysand gave him suspecting look, when arriving at the front of the brothel. Azriel however ignored the look and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply once, before stepping inside the place. He gestured to Rhys to follow him. 

Azriel saw the girl from earlier. She was beautiful as well, he assumed that all of the girls here were. Daphne his shadows whispered to him. 

Daphne approached them. Seemingly taken aback by the high lord’s presence. So the woman had not told anyone that the high lord would be joining them tonight. She curtsied to the high lord, as well to him. Azriel only nodded to her. 

Rhys had raised his glamor. Trying to blend in, not to cause unnecessary attention and rumors that the high lord of the night court had been seen in a place such as this. 

“We received an invitation. According to you, you have what we asked” Rhysand said, keeping his voice calm,  but still demanding power. 

“Right this way my lord’s” was the only thing she said, turning and starting to walk towards the stairs. 

Azriel and Rhysand followed. Not questioning where she was taking them.

Why are you so tense? It was Rhys, speaking directly into Az’s mind from the open crack that had left for him. 

Be on your guard brother, please. 

It was the only thing the shadowsinger had time to say before reaching the familiar door. Daphne opened it for them, revealing the already familiar room to Azriel. 

They took a step to the room. Both him and his brother assessing the space. 

After making sure there wasn’t anyone else in the room and that the door was shut, he gazed upon her. 

She was at least dressed this time. In a blood red dress, revealing her neck and chest so that it would leave any man drooling. Dress was simple, but clearly expensive, seeing that it was perfectly tailored to her, hugging in all the right places, before widening to airy hem pooling down at the woman's feet. 

Last time he had been so focused at not staring at her, that now that when he looked at her face. Truly looked at her in a beautiful dress and hair that fell freely past the woman’s waist in curls. She was the most beautiful creature that he had ever come across. Right in that momen, Azriel knew he was doomed. Because for him she truly was THE woman, the only woman.

“Good evening, lord of shadows”

continued... (part 3 hopefully coming soon :,) )

[lvnchh]

GUESS

Abby anderson x female reader inspired by Billie Eilish feat in Guess

I’m a minor, and I write smut. Please, if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don’t interact. 🙏🏻 It’s my life, and I’m free to write whatever I want as long as I’m not bothering anyone. Also, please don’t judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I’m sorry if the smut or the whole story isn’t that good.

Smut below the cut.

The soft hum of Tokyo nightlife buzzed around you both as you slid into a quiet booth in a tucked-away izakaya. It was late, the streets a blur of neon and rain-slicked reflections, but you didn't notice much of it anymore. Your focus was on Abby. Always on Abby.

Her presence was magnetic-broad shoulders and toned arms stretched beneath her simple black tank top. Her fishtail braid, slightly undone from the humidity, rested on her shoulder. And those eyes. Piercing, like they could see right through you, even the things you tried to keep hidden.

But tonight? Tonight you didn't want to hide a thing.

She sat beside you instead of across, the smell of her lingering-something earthy and familiar. You felt her thigh brush against yours as she shifted closer, her arm resting casually behind you on the worn leather of the booth. Abby wasn't subtle. She rarely was.

"You gonna drink that, or just stare at me all night?" she teased, her low voice a delicious rasp that made your cheeks warm. You glanced at the glass of sake in front of you, but your thoughts weren't on the drink. They hadn't been since the moment she saw you get dressed earlier. The way her eyes darkened as she caught a glimpse of black lace peeking out from the waistband of your jeans-it had been deliberate on your part. You didn't think she'd notice so quickly.

But Abby always noticed.

The first time she picked those out for you, it had been a joke. A playful nudge at the store, her teasing grin as she held up the delicate black pair with the tiny bows, knowing damn well they were a far cry from the usual comfort you preferred. "Bet you'd look good in these," she'd said, low and confident, daring you to blush.

And you did.

You hadn't expected to actually love them, let alone wear them for her. But tonight? Tonight felt different.

"I already know what you're wearing under there,"

Abby murmured, her lips close to your ear now, her voice barely audible over the faint jazz playing in the background. Her free hand traced the seam of your jeans under the table, featherlight but enough to make your breath hitch.

"You think so?" you asked, attempting a coy smile, but the way your voice wavered betrayed you.

"I know so." she said, a playful smirk tugging at her lips "Saw 'em when you sat down. They're all I've been thinkin' about."

Her fingers pressed just slightly against your thigh, and you cursed yourself for the way your body responded instantly to her touch.

"Abby-"

"Hmm?" she asked, feigning innocence as her hand slid higher, her calloused fingers brushing against the edge of your waistband. "You wanna keep pretending, or should we cut the act?"

You bit your lip, your pulse racing. Abby had a way of unraveling you without even trying.

"I'm not pretending," you whispered, turning to meet her gaze. Her smirk softened, replaced by something darker, hungrier.

"Good," she said. "I can't stop thinking about them," her voice low as her fingers ghosted along the edge of your waistband. "The lace. The bows. How perfect they look on you."

Your breath caught, and you managed to mumble, "Abby-"

her lips brushing your ear. Her tone was soft, but the heat behind it made your stomach tighten. "Don't act like you didn't know what this would do to me."

You swallowed hard, fighting the heat creeping up your neck, but the corner of her mouth lifted, satisfied with your reaction.

She leaned closer, her hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to graze your skin. Her touch was firm, grounding, and made every nerve in your body light up.

"C'mon," she said, voice dropping even lower.

"Let's get out of here."

Abby had you pressed against the futon mattress before you even had a chance to slip your shoes off. Her lips were on yours, rough and needy, her hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt. When she finally pulled away, her gaze raked over you, her eyes trailing lower until they landed on the lacy black pair that had been driving her crazy all night.

"Just as good as I imagined," she muttered, her voice thick with desire.

You barely had time to respond before her mouth was on your neck, her hands gripping your waist like she couldn't bear the thought of letting go. Her fingers traced the edge of the lace, her touch deliberate, slow.

"They're gonna end up ruined," you murmured, your breath catching as her lips ghosted down your neck, her hands firm on your waist. her fingers hooking into the fabric as her mouth hovered at your navel.

"Don't care," she said simply, her voice rough and low. Her hand tugged the lace aside, her blue eyes locking on yours. "This? This is all I care about."

She grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer, her fingers digging into your skin as she lowered herself between your legs. Her eyes locked with yours, a dark smirk curling at the corner of her lips as she reached for the lace, tugging it to the side without a second thought. You couldn't hold back the gasp as her mouth met you, her lips pressing against you with slow, deliberate pressure. The sensation was electric, and the moment she dragged her tongue over you, your whole body tensed.

"Abby..." you breathed, your voice already shaky.

She didn't reply, just kept moving, her hands holding you steady while her tongue worked with precision. Every flick, every stroke was calculated, and she didn't need to ask how you were feeling— she knew. Abby's confidence was as overwhelming as it was intoxicating, and it made it impossible to focus on anything else but her.

"Fuck, you taste good," she muttered under her breath, her voice low and rough as her lips stayed on you, never wavering. Her eyes never left yours as she worked, a steady rhythm that had you trembling beneath her. You reached down, your fingers running through her hair, desperate to hold onto something. Her grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer, making it impossible to escape the overwhelming pleasure she was delivering. She could feel the way your body reacted, the way you bucked against her, and it only spurred her on. When she pulled away briefly, just to look at you, her lips glistened, and you could see the satisfaction in her eyes.

[dreamscapeee222]

Marriage Headcannons

Jungkook x reader

Masterlist

Jungkook couldn’t wait. He’d been holding onto the ring for weeks, planning the “perfect” proposal, but one lazy evening at home, you made him laugh so hard he thought, why not now? He pulls you into his lap, his heartbeat so loud you can feel it, and blurts out, “Marry me.” When you think he’s joking, he grabs the ring from his pocket and adds, “I don’t need fancy. I just need you.” The simplicity of it, paired with the way he looks at you, makes the moment unforgettable.

He wants it to feel like you two. Nothing over-the-top—just an intimate gathering with friends, family, and a lot of laughter. He insists on writing his own vows, and when he reads them, there’s not a dry eye in the room. “I’m not just marrying my love,” he says, voice trembling with emotion, “I’m marrying my best friend.” When the reception starts, he’s the life of the party, dragging you to the dance floor and making sure the night is filled with joy.

Jungkook’s the kind of husband who makes everyday moments feel special. He randomly hugs you from behind while you’re brushing your teeth, kisses your forehead when he passes by, and sneaks little notes in your bag. Your nights often end with the two of you sprawled on the couch, his head in your lap as you play with his hair. He says things like, “This is my favorite part of the day,” and means it every single time.

Arguments with Jungkook are rare but intense—he feels everything deeply. He’s not great at hiding his emotions, so if he’s upset, you know. But he can’t stand being at odds with you for long. After some space to cool down, he always comes back with those wide, puppy-dog eyes and a quiet, “I was wrong. Can we fix this?” He makes up for it with cuddles so tight you can’t help but forgive him.

Jungkook treats anniversaries like personal holidays. He starts planning weeks in advance, whether it’s a surprise getaway, recreating your first date, or making an elaborate video of your favorite memories. He always writes you a letter, too—filled with his deepest thoughts and reminders of how much you mean to him. “I don’t want to ever forget how lucky I am,” he tells you every year.

Physical affection is his love language, and it shows. If you’re in the same room, Jungkook will find a way to touch you—holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder, or even just hooking his pinky around yours. He’s also obsessed with giving you forehead kisses. “It’s like I’m recharging my heart,” he jokes with a sheepish smile.

Jungkook dreams big but loves the idea of keeping life simple with you. A cozy house, a couple of dogs, and weekend road trips are his version of bliss. He often talks about your future with an excited glint in his eye. “Imagine us, like, fifty years from now,” he says one night. “Still eating ramen at 2 a.m. but with grey hair.”

You’ll catch Jungkook at his softest during late-night talks. He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling while spilling his deepest thoughts. “Do you think we’re doing life right?” he asks one night, his hand reaching for yours. These moments are raw and vulnerable, and they always leave you feeling closer than ever.

Your life with Jungkook feels like a series of snapshots strung together—simple yet extraordinary, tender yet filled with so much laughter. He makes love feel easy, like coming home to your favorite song on repeat.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

https://www.tumblr.com/whatudowhennooneseesyou/765031256699404289/greeting-ruby-are-u-able-to-do-felix-red-and

No I think it’s me 😭 I think I put that request a while ago I’m not sure but happy to see ur doing it Ruby

Have a great night 🌹

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐋𝐞𝐞 (𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐅𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝)

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1K

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: Think about it. Write about it. Have hard thoughts. Do not take it seriously. None of this information is confirmed and all theoretical. 18+ and contains smut.

ᴍᴇᴛʜᴏᴅᴏʟᴏɢʏ: Traditional Astrology & Whole Sign

ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ:

This analysis will be slightly shorter and less detailed due to Felix's Rising Sign being unknown.

Virgo Sun

Aries Moon

Rising Sign Unknown (although if I were to guess, I do strongly believe Felix is a Cancer Rising- his personality traits, appearance and life themes align with being ruled by the Moon)

Libra Mercury

Libra Venus

Leo Mars (again, Mars in 2nd House would explain the deep voice and why he's one of the most popular (if not, the most popular) member of Stray Kids.)

ꜰᴜᴄᴋʙᴏɪ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ:

9/10!!!

The fuckboi energy is STRONG with Felix because his Aries Moon and Leo Mars indicates he's not the most romantic person in relationships and he's quite primal/pleasure-focused in his escapades.

He can detach and separate emotional from physical feelings and he has a HIGH drive so he might require constant and copious amounts of sex in order to feel satisfied.

Felix also loves A LOT of attention, praise and reassurance with his Libra and Leo placements and the more, the better.

If a man with a Leo and Libra placements is unhealed (which let's face it- Felix is in his 20s so I doubt he's seeing a therapist) then he might prefer constant attention from groups/hordes of people, rather than a singular person b/c they prefer to be desired by multiple people.

I kid you not, I think Felix is on the same wavelength as Jeongin regarding hidden fuckboi energy.

Before you come for me, just look at the way this man flirts on stage, with Stays, with his members and that iconic Risabae interview. The man has EXPERIENCE.

ʀᴇᴅ & ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ꜰʟᴀɢꜱ:

ʀᴇᴅ:

Commitment phobic (potentially)- see above for my biggest reason why, if he was toxic enough- he could be the type that's for the streets permanently.

Emotionally impulsive and volatile! His Aries Moon indicates he struggles with emotional regulation and is the type to go off the deep end over the smallest of issues because he's the type to bottle things up.

Superficial! His Virgo Sun and Libra Venus can make him superficial and appearance- focused and could be more interested in how well you two LOOK together vs how well you two actually are compatible.

ɢʀᴇᴇɴ:

Loveable! By this I mean he does have an endless amount of love and passion to give to you, you would never feel like he doesn't love you because he'll show it constantly through acts of service and physical touch.

Confidence! Felix's confident nature means he's not afraid to initiate or reveal his feelings, he has enough self-reassurance to take those risks, no matter how anxious he feels internally.

Adventure! His Leo Mars indicates he gets bored easily so he would always find a way to keep the spark alive in the relationship, no matter how long you've been together.

ɪᴅᴇᴀʟ ᴛʏᴘᴇ…ɪꜰ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴡᴏᴍᴇɴ:

ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛꜱ:

Felix's sexual orientation is unknown BUT if he were into women, would be attracted to the 'effortlessly put-together' aesthetic with his Libra Venus, feminine, elegant but simple in their appearance.

His Leo Mars attracts him to confidence and aura so ppl with a big smile, nice teeth, straight posture and shiny hair would also be physical traits he'd find attractive.

Virgo/Aries placements typically are drawn to the 'natural/glowy' look so if you can look hot with no makeup or light makeup and have your hair thrown prettily in a messy bun whilst wearing a baggy T-shirt or workout gear? Then Felix is your man.

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ ᴛʀᴀɪᴛꜱ:

Extroverted! He does need someone who is extroverted or at least an ambivert that enjoys consistently being social and attending group environments like he does.

Social! He finds charisma incredibly attractive, if you can light up a room and have people gush over you with a simple smile and a twinkle in your eye, he will adore you for life.

Playful! He has to be with a partner who he feels he can release his inner child and be playful and kinda quirky with, that won't make fun of him for his weird noises.

I feel like I'm just describing Bang Chan here.

ᴅᴏᴍ, ꜱᴜʙ ᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪᴛᴄʜ:

Hear me out, hear me out, hear me out!!!

I do think Felix is more dominant than what he lets on because he knows the company and Stays prefer him to have that 'cute fairy boy' persona but his dominant side creeps out on stage, particularly when he performs by himself or when he's on solo press tours or promotion.

I definitely see him as a hard dom and can be quite freaky in the bedroom BUT it would take a long time to coax it out of him, he wouldn't show you that side of him until he's been intimate with you a couple of times.

I think the switch-dom ratio would be 60/40 and I don't think he'd prefer someone who's extremely bratty all the time but definitely a soft brat, someone who's nice and bubbly but has a slight attitude problem you know?

ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ…ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ:

Auralism! It's obvious but it's very true, we see this with Felix's loves of ASMR and how he's quite an auditory person. He would love your voice but also loves the noises your body makes during a tryst of passion, the slap of skin on skin-, the licking of his tongue against your cunt etc.

'can you hear the sound of your cunt taking my fingers in baby? that's the sound of heaven for me'

Camming! This is an intrusive thought but Felix wasn't an idol, he would have made a killing on OnlyFans providing ASMR content with his voice and fem!boy appearance. His Leo Mars indicates he likes to be watched and be appreciated by multiple ppl.

'all your comments are making me so hard right now, if I keep receiving them, I might just wear the tiara one of my beautiful subscribers bought me'

Voyeurism! Idk what the kink is called but I do think Felix might get aroused over his own performance and voice so I wouldn't be surprised if he enjoys filming something sexy and then wants to watch you watch the footage and get hard over watching you get yourself worked up and then fuck you after.

'Look how wet you got just from watching me jerk off babe? It's a good thing you've got the real thing right here to make you feel good'

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @starillusion13 @justaaveragereader @ja3hwa @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppin @leomggg @daddysspecialdollyworld @mykryptonitelight @wisejudgedragonhairdo @craxy-person @sanakimohara

[mullermilkshake]

Sukuna’s proposal

Yakuza!Sukuna x Fem!reader

MINORS DNI - Tags: Yakuza AU, fem reader, knives, blood, graphic depictions of violence, references to non-con, stabbing, potential death, gun use, fighting, risk of death/murder, threats of violence, marriage proposal.

Shinjuku - 1982…

Mr Nanami called your name from his office, "Can you come in here please?"

"Is everything alright?" for the first time since you started this job, Kento Nanami showed a concerned look across his face.

"I have someone incredibly important coming and I have to be upfront with you," he offered up the chair across from his desk and allowed you to sit. "To be honest, I thought you would have left by now."

Was he questioning your professionalism? You had been there a few months and he hadn't uttered a word. "How so?"

"Well this sort of work isn't exactly your usual office work, I know you're aware of my security systems."

You were also very aware that at least Mr Nanami was Yakuza, though it never bothered you. It was simple enough to come into work, do your job and leave in the evening. Of course it came with its risks, but any job linked to the Yakuza warranted more open eyes than usual.

That was why you opted for spray in your bag incase someone came with overzealous hands. You could handle yourself in some capacity, so it was never an issue.

"I'm also aware that you are Yakuza, Mr Nanami. That doesn't bother me if that's what you are trying to imply?"

Was that a sigh of relief? "So you're up to speed then, this makes things easier. I apologise I never implicitly clarified before you came, but as you may have noticed, it's difficult to find civilian staff who won't run at the first sign of trouble."

Mr Nanami seemed like a reliable man at least, he was prompt, respectful and incredibly chivalrous. Something that may come in handy later should trouble actually arise.

Though for now, it seemed plausible to suggest that you were in good hands. As long as that didn't change and he left you out in the cold.

"I took this job knowing what sort of work you may have been in, I just need a steady pay check to afford my apartment. I don't need to know anything or ask questions."

Mr Nanami nodded and leant forward in his chair, lacing his fingers together in thought. "Good. At least I won't have to explain this."

He rummaged through his desk drawer and pulled out a knife. large enough to be mistaken for a kitchen knife, though it was dainty enough to be pocket sized if you squinted at it hard enough.

"I want you to keep this in your desk out front. The man who's coming is the type that some people despise for various reasons and I do not like the fact you have nothing as a deterrent while he's here."

Some might have suggested in their minds that the man himself was a serial killer or something, but that wasn't it at all. That signified to you that the man in question was someone of great importance to Mr Nananmi.

His own boss perhaps? Someone with enough power to make enemies out of the wood work to warrant protection from a secretary out front at collateral.

You bet on that it was his boss.

"Alright then," you leant forward and took the knife from the desk, its weighted handle gleaming in the low light of the screens off to the left side of the room you never dared to look at. "If that's what you wish of me, consider it done."

Mr Nanami got up from his chair as a signal for you to do the same. "Thank you, I hope you never have to use it."

"I hope so too," following him, he led you out of the office and back to your desk to which you slipped the knife into your drawer just like he had done before. "What time will your guest arrive?"

"Tonight, but I won't need you to bring him through. I'll greet him myself," he made a move back to his office and stopped in his tracks. "It's best if you don't make direct eye contact with him, his presence can be overwhelming to some."

You nodded to give non-verbal communication and turned to your work for rest of the day until Mr Nanami came back out of his office to greet the shadow at the door.

"Chairman," seeing Mr Nanami bow to another man was an odd sight.

The man being shorter in stature than himself, bright hair and unusual tattooed markings on his face. He was beautiful, the markings were beautiful in their own way, and being a Yakuza man made his presence all that more intimidating.

Well, to other people. Not to you.

To you, he was just another man just like Mr Nanami.

For a fleeting second, the two of you made eye contact to which you bowed your head in respect and continued working, noting his silent footsteps wander past you and into Mr Nanami's office.

Another hour must have passed in silence while your pen scribbled away, scratching over the quiet for something to listen to. Paperwork and filed reports sorted alphabetically to make the time not drag whilst there wasn't much else to do.

A knock at the outer office door was the most interesting thing in the whole room, it sounded timid by the rapping of knuckles which led you to believe it was Ino coming back to tinker with the network, or fiddle with something computer related.

But it wasn't.

It was a man you had never seen before. "I'm sorry, is there any chance I can see Nanami right now?"

"Sorry, but Mr Nanami is in a meeting right now. He can't be disturbed, would you like to leave a message?"

"No that's fine," he moved towards the desk and just past it, looking at the office door. "I only wanted to see who was out here before I get my guys."

What?

He held up a gun and moved fast enough to get behind you. "Why he would put a woman out front is beyond me. The Chairman's in there, isn't he?"

So that man inside with Mr Nanami was the Chairman?

You said nothing, making little micro movements towards your desk drawer. The weapon seemed as though bad luck had graced your desk, spending not even twenty four hours in your possession and you were already edging towards it to use it on a man you'd never met before.

There was a gun pointed at your head and you were as calm as you had ever been. Though what was the use in panicking?

The barrel of that gun pressed against your head. "Answer me, bitch."

"I don't know who you're referring to," so close now, the drawer handle in your reach.

"Don't fucking lie to me," he was trying to be as quiet as he could, teeth gritted and all. "I have four guys out there ready to storm this place and they'll take turns with you, believe me. So cooperate and tell me."

He was making threats like that already? He was either incredibly wet behind the ears to use something so drastic this early, or it was a bluff.

"Alright, I'll get the keys to the office."

The excuse was enough for the pressure of metal to leave the back of your head and allow you to open the drawer naturally and moved your hand around to feel for the knife's handle.

'If a person has possession of a knife when threatened, they better follow through in using it.' That was advice you had heard once from somewhere.

Might as well listen to it.

It all happened so fast, taking a hold of the weighted handle and moving forward a fraction so you could drive the blade into the man's thigh. The gun went off regardless by your head and the shot rang through your ears though it wasn't enough to stun you.

You weren't sure how you got up from your seat the way you did to draw the knife out of him and lunge again with the steel pushing onto his chest, enough to topple him off his feet and drag him to meet the hard floor with you on top of him.

The ringing vibrated your ear drums, tingling too much to notice Mr Nanami's office door open. You were on top of a man who threatened you with a gun and there was so much blood.

But he was still alive.

It wasn't shock. It couldn't have been. You were still coherent, you just couldn't hear much. The red on your hands was new, sticky and warm enough to keep you out of the moment until someone took a hold of your shoulders.

It wiped you out and into reality, grasping at what you had done in the present in front of your employer and a stranger who was eyeing you intensely.

"Can you hear me?" Mr Nanami shook you a little, his voice muffled somewhat. "Are you alright?"

"He threatened me- I didn't know what else I could do."

And now you were justifying yourself. You would do the same thing if there was a time machine to take you back.

"But are you alright?"

"I'm fine. There might be others outside," how were you talking so clearly right now with just your little rapid breaths at your lips? "He asked about the Chairman and said there are four others."

"Can you stand?"

"Yeah. I'm alright," the blood was a nuisance.

Mr Nanami lead you over to your chair and pulled the desk phone to his ear. "I'm calling Naoya, he'll be able to take you home."

"Don't let that ingrate in on this Nanami," the Chairman spoke for the first time.

"I can't leave until this is cleared up, she'll need to get home."

"I'll take her back, Uraume is waiting in the car," the Chairman approached the desk and folded his arms with purpose. "Naoya is a brat, he'd only mess it up. I'll make sure she get's home while you clean up the trash."

Wait. Clean up? Things were catching up to you. "Is he dead?"

Had you just killed a man? You should have been more freaked out about it. But you weren't.

"He's kicking for now. Shame. You should have aimed higher."

Right in front of you was a hand, the Chairman's hand. You made a note of the darkened polish adorning his manicured nails, black bands around his wrist.

You took it without question. "I'll bare that in mind next time I stab a man."

"Good. Nanami, call by tomorrow when this is sorted."

"Yes sir."

His hand was far warmer than you anticipated. He never let go until you were in the car, a sort of blur until he broke the silence.

"Care to explain how a civilian found their way into a vipers pit of the Yakuza?"

He was the Chairman, it was only respectful you answer him honestly. Right? "Money. I needed the money. I was aware who Mr Nanami was as soon as I saw him."

The world zipped by from the car window, unaware for the crime you had just committed. If the man wasn't dead, he was certainly gravely injured enough to warrant a prison sentence should anone find out. It was never discussed or mentioned by Mr Nanami or the Chairman.

It was more like an afterthought from yourself.

"Yet you still accepted the job offer anyway? And now you've stabbed a man with a gun. This life is hardly one to brag about when you're collateral."

"It doesn't scare me," only his reflection was in your periphery, you didn't turn your head to face him. "It's a job. I've had my fair share of hardships to know life isn't easy. Defending myself is something that comes naturally."

You could have sworn you heard him chuckle. "Defending yourself is far more difficult than people understand. It takes someone strong to do what is necessary."

That much was true. And that statement was enough to get your head turning to face him. Even in the dim light of the passing street lights, he was beautiful.

How did someone such as himself find his way into becoming a Chairman?

"Sometimes we're faced with difficult decisions when the hardest choice is the wisest. It's just something that has to happen."

The blood had dried along your fingers and began to crack and chip away leaving streaks of exposed skin at the joints. It would take more than just one shower alone to get all of this yuck off of you.

"You speak more truth than most of the men under my watch. It's refreshing."

"Sir, we've arrived," a voice from the drivers side came about to ground you.

"Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it."

The car door was suddenly opened for you, the driver bowing and their identity remained hidden. The other door opened and the Chairman approached you.

"I never got your name, Mr Nanami never told me."

"Sukuna. It's Ryomen Sukuna."

Even in the darkened sky of the night's glow tapered off with the neon signs of Shinjuku, he was still beautiful. You spoke your name too and offered a bow before taking steps towards the door to your apartment.

A quaint little ground floor, and it was all yours.

"Do you need assistance?"

"No, I'll be alright from here."

His eyes were in the back of your head as you wandered past him. "I'll be forward because it's not every day I meet a woman who pulls something so extraordinary to gain my attention like you did today."

"Hmm?" you turned and watched him from your front door almost, he made no attempt to follow you.

"Marry me."

"What?"

A proposal from someone you had spoken few sentences to was a first. But you didn't find yourself shying away from the subject.

"Marry me."

"I..."

The man in front of you softened his eyes, never judging you covered in another mans blood. "Think about it, and come to me with any answer you choose."

He bowed to you and turned towards the car, the driver opening the door to let him disappear into the darkness of tinted glass.

After that night, you wondered about that man and who he really was.

You gave him your answer several days later.

And it was a firm yes.

[ddongtsan]

Sweet as a Grape - Han Dongmin

Taesan x fem. reader

Note: The world needs more kind and handsome boys, so I started writing about BOYNEXTDOOR 💙.

Warning: Relationship established, fluff.

It was almost 2 a.m., and the city lights outside blinked like tired eyes.

As usual, Dongmin was the last one to leave the practice room and you waited for him by the vending machine downstairs, sipping lukewarm coffee from a paper cup.

When he finally appeared, hair damp and hoodie pulled low, he gave you that small, crooked smile you’d come to treasure.

“Still here?” asked, voice husky with exhaustion.

“Couldn’t let you walk home alone” you replied, tossing your empty cup into the trash.

Han chuckled softly. “I told you, I’m fine. I’m practically nocturnal.”

“That’s the problem.” You teased, falling into step beside him as you both stepped out into the cool night.

The walk to his apartment was familiar, the route etched into your muscles like a well-loved melody. Taesan’s hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and you could see the faintest shiver in his frame.

“You didn’t bring a jacket, did you?” you asked, already slipping yours off to drape it over his shoulders.

He hesitated, then let out a soft sigh. “You’re too sweet for me, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes. “And you’re impossible, babe.”

.

Inside his small apartment, the warmth was a stark contrast to the chill outside. He tossed the jacket onto the couch and headed to the kitchen, emerging moments later with two mugs of black coffee.

You took yours reluctantly. “You know, normal people drink tea or hot chocolate this late. Not coffee.”

Taesan smirked, taking a long sip. “Normal people also go to bed before three a.m. Not my style.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re going to burn out one day.”

“And you’re going to lecture me about it every step of the way, aren’t you?” His tone was teasing, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his gaze.

“Someone has to” you replied, your voice softer now.

He set his mug down and leaned back against the counter, watching you with that unreadable expression he often wore. “Why do you care so much?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for longer than you’d expected.

“Because I see you” you said finally. “The real you. And I can’t just stand by and let you keep running yourself into the ground.”

Your boyfriend looked away, his fingers tracing the edge of the counter. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple” you insisted, stepping closer. “You deserve to take care of yourself. To be happy.”

He laughed, low and almost bitter. “I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

“Then let me show you” you said, your voice steady despite the way your heart raced.

His gaze snapped back to yours, searching for something. For a moment, the world felt as still as the quiet night outside.

Then he sighed, a small, resigned smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really too sweet for me.”

“And you’re really too stubborn for me” you countered, a smile of your own breaking through.

Dongmin reached out, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before pulling away. “Alright. Teach me how to be happy.”

.

Over the next few weeks, you showed him the little joys of slowing down.

Early morning sunrises with warm tea, afternoons spent reading in the park, quiet evenings painting nonsense on the walls of his apartment.

But some things about Taesan never changed. He still drank his coffee black, stayed up too late, and worked himself harder than anyone else.

One night, as you both sat on the rooftop, the city sprawled out below you like a sea of lights, he handed you a steaming mug.

“Coffee?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hot chocolate” he corrected, a small, almost shy smile on his face.

You took a sip, the sweetness warming you from the inside out.

“See?” you said, nudging him playfully. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Maybe a little” he admitted, his gaze soft as it lingered on you.

And in that moment, with the stars above and his quiet warmth beside you, you realized that maybe you were rubbing off on him.

But Taesan, in all his late-night chaos and stubborn charm, was rubbing off on you too.

[meetinginsamarra]

Fanfics I Really Liked in September 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

Clean Start by standbygo @blogstandbygo

UniLock - John meets an odd man at the laundrette who deduces people from what's in the dryer.

Delightful different first meeting.

These Hours That Define Us  by predictably_unpredictable

Sherlock has just been discharged from hospital, not knowing what to expect or what he'll be coming home to. He's convinced himself that he should never see John again for John's well being, believing himself to be a hindrance to him. But when John shows up unexpectedly to 221B in the middle of the day hoping for a place to stay, things take a different turn, forcing them both to confront their past and their future.

Awesome S3 fix-it!

The night visitor by Snoozydog

John Watson, former army surgeon, employed by the secretive and indefinable government official Mycroft Holmes, accidentally saves the life of his employer's younger brother and ends up being hired as his private physician. John is immediately fascinated by his new patient but not only is Sherlock engaged to be married to someone else, but he is also a man surrounded by many dark secrets. Under the looming threat of Mycroft’s watchful eyes, as well as Sherlock’s imminent wedding there is also something else that lurks in the shadows, something that threats the budding relationship that has started to develop between the doctor and his enigmatic patient.

^^ Says it all, go read!

The winding road of secrets and lies by Snoozydog

John Watson takes on a mission to infiltrate the household of Mycroft Holmes by order of his new employer, Sebastian Moran, to access information their boss is wishing to get his hands on. To be able to get to Mycroft John will have to befriend his younger brother Sherlock and try to establish a bond with him. But what starts out as a seemingly simple job proves to be much more complicated for John as the Holmes household harbours many dark and unexpected secrets, especially about the very complicated relationship between the two brothers. Under pressure from his boss to follow through with his assignment, Mycroft suspiciously watching his every move and, to complicate matters even more, John beginning to develop feelings for Sherlock, he is beginning to regret ever taking this job. Can he complete his initial plan to steal information from Mycroft and what will happen when Sherlock finds out the truth?

^^ Says it all, go read!

The Printer Is Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire)

John is a disgruntled customer who just wants his money back for a shoddy printer Harry ordered for him off of a catalogue. Sherlock is a bored customer service rep working the summer he has off from Oxford. They are both about to get more than they bargained for.

Fandom classic AU different first meeting. Grumpy John and snarky Sherlock and hilarious shenanigans aróund the printer. Lots of fun.

The Printer Is Still Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire)

Life after happily ever after still has its pitfalls. Glimpses into the lives of Sherlock and John after they said ‘I do’.

Part 2 of the printer fun.

[dekarios]

hi you're The rogue trader mutual to me so if it's not too much work could you tell me a bit about it :) i'm interested in trying it out and i did read the wikipedia article but i would like to hear something less formal

of course no pressure if you don't have time or energy for it

TAKES A DEEP BREATH

let me set up warhammer 40k a little bit.

this is a very rich with lore universe, it is full of things to consume and learn about, every warhammer 40k fan has their favourite things about it, and there's so many sub-communities based on these things. people who love the imperium, tech-priest fans, necron fans, all sorts, all in their little bubbles. it's fascinating! there's also multiple points in history people can fixate on! i know some people who only care about the emperor's sons (known as the primarchs) and the lorea and stories around them!

to give a very tldr rundown... warhammer 40k is a post apocalyptic world, long after humanity had left terra to explore the galaxy.

to start: people started to be born as psychic mutants, and that's how we got the first navigators, which allowed humanity to explore further than ever before, along with the creation of the warp-drive. this is when the imperium was first created. humanity thrived for a long time, but over time, psykers started to be born, think of them as humans who could use a form of magic. unfortunately, psykers are at risk of being possessed by daemons, or opening portals to allow daemons in, which caused the downfall of humanity.

and then, the emperor of humanity, started a great crusade, in simple terms, to save humanity. he formed the pact with mars' tech-priests to use their technology, and created the primarchs (his sons, which are just genetic clones of himself) as well as the space marine legions... thus the imperiums expansion began. and the start of the horus heresy... which is chronicled in like one of the longest book series ever... just consider it the imperium (humanity) waging war after war after war trying to expand and grow and save themselves, and losing, and winning, and dying, and... yeah. eventually this ends but - humanity stagnates, is probably the best way i can put it.

the game rogue trader is theorised to take place around 999.M41. this means it takes place in... warhammer 40,000! the horus heresy takes place in 30,000... but i think it's important just just set up that beginning part. humanity is fucked, lets put it this way. everything that happened has let humanity to be terrified of power. they cling to the emperor, cling to the past they've lost, much of their history, their knowledge, completely gone. but they are so afraid of things getting like they were, of someone gaining so much power like horus had, that they just.. can't allow themselves to advance again. to the point people who think about that or suggest it are called heretics and killed. to say the imperium isn't perfect as it is now is heresy - but without advancement.. humanity is going to die. they have stagnated and eventually they won't be able to continue - but they are so proud, they can't admit it, or see it.

warhammer 40k is a depressing series of watching humanity suffer, and not taking any chances to change it. they just keep trying to expand. to take over planets and systems. to control everything. they see every other alien species are wrong, villainous, antagonists, that must be put down. even pyskers are treated horribly, despite the fact that their own emperor they love so much, is a psyker.

in rogue trader, you play as a character chosen by the emperor to expand into systems much further out than the imperium has, lawless, dangerous... your job is to bring them under heel. to rule, absolutely. while also squabbling with other rogue traders in the same system who also want it - because personal power is just as important. rogue trader is a game where you literally don't deal with money mechanics because you have more wealth than you could possibly know. you have at least 25,000 people living on your ship, some who have never left it, generations of their families born upon your ship, with you as their almighty ruler.

it's a game where you can be the best ruler to your people you can be, either by following the imperium's law absolutely, or by actually doing the right thing - which is against the law, btw. you could even listen to the whispers of chaos in your ear, be a psyker who plays a little too closely to the edge, risking daemons and god knows what else. you are forced to make hard choices. you have weight on your shoulders that risks crushing you. are you going to lead your people to glory? are you going to protect them, and try to save them? are you going to lead them straight into the maw of a god who will consume them whole? rogue trader is a fun roleplaying game. warhammer 40k is a fun roleplaying tabletop game. being lawful good is being just another sheep in the imperium whos going to watch it sail to its death with a salute, being a bad character is actually wanting the best for people - for treating alien races with respect and not killing them on sight, and being evil is like becoming the chosen prophet of a god who wants to ascend you to their right hand like a bride...

and that's before we even consider the absolutely insane dynamics with your companions. your senechal who is so deathly loyal to you he will focus you into the maws of chaos? your psyker diviner who just wants to be loved and appreciated - and how terribly you can twist her in this desire? a sister of battle who finds a sick gratification in killing - but she's killing for her god, so it's completely just, of course. how about a tech-priest who borders on the heretical with such a tight rope that pushing him over the edge is too easy - as if he was already there to begin with? or a space marine - a wolf - who is exactly like what you'd expect a space marine to be. we even have some hidden companions... one of which who is so fascinating to me, a priest, a prophet, a chaos space marine....

and how genuinely interesting the romances are. do you want a classic period drama romance where you woo a noble lady who blushes if you hold her hand and thinks kissing it is too forward? do you want to melt the ice man who has so much trauma and you swear you can fix him? do you wanna seduce a woman by gifting her an entire planet while she broadcasts your sex across your entire ship so all 25,000+ people hear it? do you want to slaughter your own people for sexual gratification and torture your loyal subjects while engaging in bdsm with an alien who can be your dom or your sub but god forbid you try to switch - which also has an ownership branding scene? how about a 'me and you against the world' soulmates type romance with an alien who sees you as a primative beast but your desire to understand her and her people softens her to you - and the furthest this romance can ever go is holding hands within your minds as you meditate together? or how about a death cult assassin whos been slaughtering your enemies who hide upon your ship right under your nose who very much wants to become your right hand like a devoted paladin-assassin of blood and murder?

ok i've typed so much i've made my arms sore but i genuinely could go on if not for this limitation..... i love rogue trader. i love it. i love it so much. i get so sad when i see roleplaying game enjoyers having no interest in picking it up. it's life changing. it's everything. it's a roleplaying game where you are beautifully rewarded for roleplaying. there's so much freedom. it's delicious to be evil, to manipulate and twist people to chaos. its maddening to try and follow the right path and be punished for it. and its gratifying to follow the emperors will.

[sparrowrye]

The Archivists’s Oath || Alastor x Reader, Chapter 4

Synopsis: some things are just too good to be true

Master List

Chapter 4: broadcast of betrayal

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop it." I smacked Al's hand away from his arm.

"It itches," he hissed. He went to itch it again but I caught it in a tight grip.

"Suck it up or it's going to itch more."

His ears turned away in response as he stuffed down a growl. I released his hand and went back to the kitchen sink. I had an itch cream but it had been difficult to get it underneath his fur, so there had been a few places I missed. We had fallen asleep under the stars and woke with an array of mosquito bites.

I soaked a towel in water and draped it over the handle of the kettle. After it had warmed enough, I wrapped it around the arm he was still itching and told him to lay down. I then left him alone as I went out to continue my long list of chores.

I made my way to the little creak that ran along the edges of the oasis. I scavenged for berries and other herbs to store for later use. It was one of the most mind-numbing and time-consuming chore, and it was also the one that took me furthest away from my alcove.

However, I could no longer contain myself. I dropped the old basket and sprouted my wings. My claws dug into the nearest tree as I climbed up and jumped through the branches. My wings were slightly open to help me glide from tree to tree. I laughed like a kid, even when I missed a branch or two and smacked my face into a trunk.

I hung my legs on a branch and swung upside down, stretching my arms and wings as far as I could. My own laughing was contagious. When was the last time I felt this way? When was the last time I felt happy? The last time I felt hopeful?

Would he actually take me to see the outside world? Where did he live? How far was it? Would he actually want to come back after he's been back in his own, familiar world?

The thought sobered me. I shouldn't get too hopeful. He could already have a partner or someone he's interested in. He could be saying all these things and not actually follow through. I wouldn't be surprised if he got caught up in the outside world and completely forgot about me.

I grabbed the branch and unhooked my legs, but froze when something caught my eye. I lowered myself to the ground and peered through the tangle of roots, catching a glint of something red. Using magic, I pulled the branches away to find a strange, metal, teardrop thing. I turned it over, noting the metal rod that was bent at a 90 degree angle, and found a microphone sitting in the dip of the teardrop.

Was this his staff?

It hadn't gotten taken by the White Angels?

Something about this staff made the hairs on my arm stand up. I could feel the magic from this simple tool, magic that tasted oddly like Al. I didn't even know magic had a taste until that moment. There were faint lines along the teardrop shell, strange markings and symbols that represented him—his power, his life out there, his magic, and the truth I didn't want to face.

I idly walked back with the damaged cane and old basket in hand. What would happen if I gave him the staff? If he needed it to get home, would he up and leave me without a word? Would he take back his promise on showing me the world? Technically he didn't even promise that to me. But...it went against my moral code to keep something, with obvious importance, a secret.

Had our time finally come to an end?

I found myself back at the alcove sooner than I wanted. I raked my hand down my face, mentally braced, and slid through the bramble. I found Al messing with the string again. When he turned to look at me, his eyes immediately went to the staff in my hands. He went eerily still. Then abruptly stood up.

"You found it." He crossed the room slowly, gaze zoned in on the staff.

"It was—uh...stuck in some roots." Head lowered, I extended my arm. "Sorry that it's broken."

"Nothing a little magic can't fix." His claws wrapped around the metal and, when I let go of it, his other hand grabbed my hand before I could pull away. It wasn't a tight grip but a tense hold I wasn't expecting. He leaned down in my ear and said softly, "Thank you."

He removed the cane, and his grip, and I wrapped my arms around myself. "G-glad I could help."

He looked me over for a moment. "Is something the matter?"

"'Course not." I quickly slipped out of the bunker.

~*~

Alastor sat on the worn couch, the staff resting on his lap. His fingers traced the carvings on the back of it, as though reacquainting himself with a piece of his soul. Despite the damage, it bled magic into Alastor's veins and reinforced the amount he had been born with. It made his leg tap with a funny feeling of adrenaline.

Even so, he felt the gravity of his situation fall upon his shoulders. The quiet was too quiet. The shadows too dark and closing in. He had expected this moment to happen but he hadn't expected it so soon, but he knew he was only fooling with himself.

He dropped his cane on the table then buried his face in his hands. All he could think about was the look on your face—the forced smile and the flicker of pain behind your eyes. You had tried so hard to mask it and push him away, for his sake or your own he had no idea.

His staff glared back at him, a reminder of his life outside this sanctuary and of his responsibilities he'd been neglecting. He could only imagine what his district must be like if they learned of his sudden disappearance. Perhaps Vox finally made his move to step into Alastor's role, but even he knew that was entirely impossible. His mages—while they didn't exactly like Alastor all the time—would never accept a non-mage. If anything, Zestial was the one who took over.

His magic pulsed. He closed his eyes and reached out, his heightened magic seeping through the cracks and invisible wavelengths to where you sat crouched in the alcove. Crying. Wings wrapped tightly around yourself.

He opened his eyes to the red staff. For all his power, all his cunning, and all his control...he was utterly powerless in this moment. You had pulled him out of his element in every way and it reminded him why he had spent so many years crafting and chiseling himself into who he was—he never wanted to feel this way again.

And yet...here he was.

Another ripple through his magic. He ran his hands through his hair, pulled on it, then finally stood. He yanked the heavy door open and stepped into the afternoon light. Birds chirped overhead as a breeze flowed through the trees and bramble protecting the sanctuary.

You recoiled your wings back to their spot on your back and turned your head away, arms holding your knees to your chest. He silently sat beside you, making sure to keep enough space. His long legs stretched out in front of him as he leaned back against the stone. He had hoped he would come up with something to say by the time he sat down. But he hadn't. He was at a loss for words.

You sniffled softly. "I guess this means you're leaving soon."

He clasped his hands together so he didn't risk touching you. "Think me eager to leave your charming company so quickly?"

You shrugged, refusing to turn your head in his direction. "You have your staff back. You've got...some mission or job to do back home. I just figured..."

"That I'd forget all about you the moment I left?" he finished.

You didn't reply immediately. You wiped your eyes with your sleeve then turned your head to stare straight ahead. "The world is full of temptations. It's easy to get lost."

The words sounded like a recitation. Was it something you'd been told as you were growing up? That the world is full of dangerous temptations that could distract an Archivist—that could pull them away from their work? Could some of the world's long lost Archivists have given up their way of life in exchange for a blissful world of temptations?

"Well...the temptations become far less inviting the longer you live with them." He was hurting his hands with how hard he was gripping them. He wanted to touch you, to provide some sort of comfort. The him before your sanctuary would've been appalled at him now. "But yes...the world doesn't stop turning even if I've found a temporary reprieve here."

You winced at the word temporary and more tears started to build. You turned your head away again, sending more ripples through his magic.

Blast this magic. It was trying to adapt to his new mindset and it wasn't a smooth transition.

"I'm sure your...team or whatever will be happy to know you're not dead."

"Not yet."

Your body froze, then you wiped your head around, finally meeting his gaze with those beautiful eyes, albeit a little red and swollen from crying.

"I'll stay one more day," he continued, fingers finally unlocking and settling on the grass between you. "Perhaps two. I'd hate to leave you without properly overstaying my welcome."

Finally a crack of a smile on your lips. You shifted closer, accepting the arm that wrapped around your back and guided your head to lean on his shoulder. You took in a slow, deep breath of his natural scent and he did the same, soaking in that earthy scent like the day after a spring storm.

This is going to be painful, he thought.

Luckily for Alastor, he was accustomed to pain.

{|}

Alastor let two more days pass before he accepted reality.

It was time to return to the world.

He had been gone for...two weeks? Three weeks?

He waited for you to leave for a chore, giving it two minutes to ensure you weren't coming back for anything. Then he sat up, grabbed his staff, and cranked the radio on your counter. He cracked his neck then brought the wounded staff up to his mouth. He tuned the frequencies to him and his voice fizzled through.

"Good afternoon, my dear listeners! It is said that even the mightiest can fall. That the wind may tear them down, that the earth may swallow them whole, or that their enemies might, by some stroke of luck, strike them down. But legends—true legends—don't fall so easily."

He glanced over his shoulder to ensure you hadn't opened the door.

"And I've heard the rumors. I've heard the whispers in dark alleys, in the busy markets, and in hurried prayers that I may have met my demise. I would find it rather aggravating if I didn't find it so amusing. You had hoped, maybe even believed, that the storm had passed and you could continue your broken ways of living off scraps. But here my voice now—" he was really starting to get into it, "as I assure you that I remain unshaken, unbroken, and...unkillable."

He hoped Husker was listening to the radio by this point. "I have gone to the edge of the world and returned, standing before you very much alive and whole. A beacon in these dark times. For who else possesses the capability of guiding you through the chaos and uncertainty? Who else can bear the weight of Humanity's future? Of your future?"

Please get my hints, Husker. He couldn't imagine the hint passed over the feline's head. He was an alcoholic but he wasn't incompetent.

"Let this be a reminder to those who dared to raise a hand against me, to those who posses the stupidity to even consider such a notion, that their act of foolishness was just that. Foolish. I'm still here. I'm still alive. And I will remain here while there's breath in my lungs and magic in my veins."

He cleared his throat away from the microphone and changed his tone. "Now, to my faithful...worry not. I am closer than you think and watching over you as I always have. The winds have carried me to great heights and the ground beneath my feet is unfamiliar but not untamable. Trust your instincts, follow the trail of the stars to Orion's Belt and you will find me.

"This is Alastor, the Radio Demon, reminding you all that there is no hope for the future without me. Sleep well...if you can." The frequency jittered then went to white noise. He lowered the volume and let out a huge sigh of relief.

That had felt good.

"You're him."

His heart dropped and he whirled around to find you at the entrance. Your face was pale and your eyes as wide as he'd ever seen them. Why hadn't he heard you walk in?

He didn't know how to answer. You had caught him. Plain and simple. His secret was out.

~*~

"I should've known," I whispered. Al was short for Alastor. The microphone on his cane was how he tuned into the radio. The complete silence from the Radio Demon for the past three weeks while Al was here. And his voice? How did I not recognize it?

"My dear, I had planned to tell you but I—"

"You needed to tell everyone that you were unshaken, unbroken, and unkillable?"

His rubbed his fingers together. "You weren't meant to hear that. It wasn't...it was about ensuring the world knows I'm still here to keep everything in control."

"Control? You talk about guiding people through the chaos but all I hear are lies. You're not a guide. You're a conquerer." I spat the word like a bad taste in my mouth. It was.

His chest swelled with upset. "You think it's easy, what I've done? What I'm still trying to do? You think it's easy trying to keep this fragile world from descending into chaos and being devoured by their own stupidity? They don't know any better."

"And you think ruling with an iron fist—" I snapped back, "—ruling with fear as a mystic monster that everyone's too scared to defy, will save them? That's not living and that's certainly not saving Humanity."

"What would you know about saving Humanity? I've had to make sacrifices. Sacrifices that you could never understand while you sit upon a mountain of knowledge that could change everything. But you refuse to share it, giving out only slivers of that knowledge that you deem necessary for Humanity to know."

My blood ran cold.

"That's right. I know what you are. You're an Archivist." He put a hand behind his back as he crossed the room until he had backed me against the door. "A prideful legacy of manipulative hoarders who think they're higher than everyone else. All in the name of some ancient, outdated oath."

My anger returned just as fiercely, adrenaline putting aside that this was a dangerous man standing inches from me in my own home. "That outdated oath is what's keeping the last shred of Humanity safe from conquerers like you. You want to manipulate, you want to control, you want to use everything in that archive for your own gain. Not for the safety of Humanity but to secure your power above them. And I won't let that happen. I won't let you twist the past to fit your twisted future!"

"You," he jerked his head forward so I flinched back, "don't understand what's at stake. Those archives could save us from extinction but you're too stubborn to see that. You—"

"I'm keeping them so that we don't go extinct!" I interrupted. "Humanity had the Great Downfall for a reason. Those archives exist to keep us from going through another one." My hands were moving on account for my fear. Tears were rising.

"But Humanity will not know how to avoid it if you refuse to share that knowledge."

I stumbled over my words as my hands threaded through my hair. "That's not...where do you think all those pictures and articles about the Old World come from? They come from the Archivists. Our job is to share the proper knowledge so—"

"So you know better than the rest of Humanity?"

"I...well...I have all the information," I said more firmly, "and not even that because I'm not done translating everything."

He leaned back, looking down his nose at me and fang poking out of an evil smile. "You lecture me about taking control of Humanity because I know what's best for them, yet you stand here believing the same thing about yourself."

"It's different!"

"Enough of this." He turned his back and walked to the center of the bunker. "I don't need your permission. I'll do what needs to be done for Humanity's sake."

I let out a maniac laugh. "You think you can force me to give up my archive? My oath demands me to die before I give anything away to the wrong hands. And even if it didn't, I won't let you control me. I won't be your pawn, Alastor. I won't let you or anyone else use me to keep this twisted nightmare alive. I won't let you!"

There was silence as my voice reverberated off the walls. My chest heaved from the adrenaline rush, my heart racing with the anticipation of his next move. I was outmatched. I would not survive this if he chose to attack me.

His back was still turned to me, but his tone shifted as he said, "You're right. I don't control you. But you're sorely mistaken if you think you can stand against the tide alone. The world is bigger than you, my dear. One way or another, I will have my hands on those books."

"I should've let you die," I muttered.

~*~

His eyes widened and he slowly turned around.

"I should've let you bleed out," you went on. "I should've listened to my instincts and let you die alone. None of this would've ever happened and I would've spared Humanity from the Radio Demon."

His eyes narrowed and his shadow seemed to darken in the lantern light.

Your voice dropped, hands reaching up to hug yourself. "I should've known it was too good to be true. That someone...that someone would want to actually...want to be with me." Alastor's anger abated as quickly as it had surfaced. More softly you added, "I would've spared myself, too."

He didn't see an Archivist. He saw you. Scared, unsure, alone, and wanting someone to just spend time with you. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. "Well, you can stop the act now. You're no longer welcome here." His teeth ground together. "I'll take you to the edge of the forest where you'll wait for your people to find you."

"So that's it?" he growled. "You're going to pretend like nothing happened?"

"You tricked me!" you practically screamed. "You pretended this whole time just to get close to me so you could have access to my archive."

"And so did you!" he returned. "Keeping your true nature a secret."

"But you didn't tell me you were the Radio Demon."

He looked away. He had been the one to hide the most secrets, but none of them weighed as much as the single secret you held onto. He hadn't wanted this conversation to go this way. He had wanted to introduce it to you slowly, gradually. Instead, he had ruined it.

No.

The Archivists had ruined it. Them and their secrets and stupid oath. If it wasn't for that oath then you wouldn't be fighting him to such an extreme.

You dragged the door open and withdrew the ribbon from your pocket. "I will take you to the edge of the forest," you repeated.

He was the Radio Demon. He had the power to confine you to this small space. He had the power to twist your bones until they snapped. He had the power to see just how far you were willing to follow your oath.

And yet...he didn't.

{|}

My arms tensed before swinging the axe down. The log splintered in half straight down the middle. I wrenched the tool out of the stump and placed another log on it, repeating the process several times more.

It had been a few weeks since Alastor left and he still hadn't shown any signs of returning to light my forest aflame. Perhaps he was still preparing.

"It's protected. It's guarded. It's hidden. It will not be found unless they scowl the oasis with a team of a hundred."

My mother's words echoed in my mind day-in and day-out. Three times a day I flew to the highest building to check the horizon, sometimes even more if I was paranoid enough, but there was nothing I could do if I saw his ship. Eventually, he would find it.

I was wracked with guilt so intense it left me horribly sick. My chores were sloppy and I came down with a cold left and right. However, there was a small part of me that was grateful. I could meet my demise as I fought for my Archive, rather than feel guilt over committing suicide. It was a honorable death for an Archivist, and I could burn my archive before he returned so his victory would be hollow.

I pursed my lips. I could still remember the feeling of our last kiss. I could still remember the feeling of his fingers interlocked with mine. I could still remember the feeling of his arm wrapped around my waist, of his teasing remarks, of him squinting at the cards in an effort to read them, of the feeling of his hands touching my feathers and messaging the muscles of my armwing.

Most of all, I could remember the stark difference between Al and the Radio Demon.

"You're right. I don't control you. But if you're sorely mistaken if you think you can stand against the tide alone. The world is bigger than you, my dear. One way or another, I will have my hands on those books."

I held the axe behind my back and swung it with a scream. Birds flew out of the treetops as I fell to my knees, still screaming. My wings sprouted and flapped once to push me quickly to my feet.

"Fuck you!" I screamed into the open air, arms swinging at nothing. "Fuck you! How dare you trick me into thinking you cared about me. How dare you manipulate me!" I fell back on my knees and pounded my fists into the grass. I grabbed the nearest log and threw it at a nearby tree. "How fucking dare you!"

My screams suddenly turned into ugly sobs. I wrapped my arms around myself as I sunk to the ground and curled up. My body shook with every sob, eventually leading to vomiting what little breakfast I had forced myself to eat. Twice.

Tears streaming down my face and snot dripped out of my nose. I tilted my head back to look at the clear blue sky. My lips quivered as I mumbled, "Fuck you for abandoning me like everyone else."

I was alone all over again.

He had made me feel happy. He had made me forget about my grim destiny. He had made me enjoy the present. He had made me feel...not alone.

Then suddenly ripped that all away, leaving me feeling even more alone than when he first found me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note:

This was a little painful to write. But remember, the bad must happen for the good to feel great! Alastor has a lot to do to make up for this ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@sirens-and-moonflowers @papas-ghoulette

[pinkandpurple360]

yikes at that anon lecturing you, but especially at this part

Paying attention to Stolas language in Murder Family, fucked up context aside, he don't bring up consequences if Blitz didn't accept the trade neither mentioned his power to threat him to accept it either, he offered and even asked if it's fair, someone as powerful as Stolas could control Blitz easily, yet he doesn't and it shows a lot about his character, but of fucking course you all don't care about that, Stolas is a big meanie.

what is it with Stolas fans and acting like what he says is the only thing that matters in that scene? saying 'fucked up context aside' is just trying to sweep away the entire problem people have with that scene

the context is what makes it unfair. the context is the threat to make Blitzo accept the deal - Stolas knew Blitzo was in danger and couldn't think straight and kept the call going anyway. there was a literal threat to Blitzo's life that Stolas was leveraging to get him to agree. the context is also where the control comes in - Blitzo needs access to the book therefore Stolas has control over him, because Blitzo has significant reason to agree regardless of whether he wants to or not to be able to keep being able to eat and house both himself and Loona. this isn't that hard to understand; it's no different than a power difference between a tenant and a landlord. except Stolas is worse because he's literal royalty and Blitzo is part of a species considered less than dirt

and Blitzo especially has reason to think there will be consequences for saying no because Stolas is showing him through ignoring all the signs he's in danger on that phone call that he does not care for his wellbeing - he called when Blitzo's life was in danger and he knew that full well. there's no 'yeah but'-ing to get out of that one. saying 'well Stolas could have been way more overt with his control!' is not a defense. Stolas is such a malicious abuser because he's the one person in the cast who isn't a mustache-twirling silent movie villain about it, because he'll do things like say 'sound fair?' when everything about the situation is weighted in his favor. this part is basically saying 'he could have been super obvious about how he was going to force Blitzo into sex but because he tried to pretend like he was being fair (even when he blatantly wasn't) that shows what a good person he is!'

also this:

This misconception you all have that Stolitz fans think all this needs to happen is Blitz to confess, and that Stolas has nothing more to improve is just wrong. Just plain wrong. I love both of these characters and I hate seeing an enormous mischaracterization of both.

I personally haven't seen the (remaining) Stolitz shippers saying this for one simple reason: I avoid their spaces. I don't like seeing posts similar to anon's where anything Stolas does wrong is the result of a misunderstanding or just Blitzo taking it badly because he's insecure or something, or worse where the very obvious signifiers of abuse on Stolas' part are handwaved away. I know that stuff will bug me so I avoid it

but anon clearly doesn't abide by the same rules. they're so bothered by a 'mischaracterization' of their faves that they're marching into people's inboxes to write long screeds about how antis are just missing the point or whatever else.

if there's only one anon or several my advice is the same: stay out of anti spaces. you clearly can't handle it and you need to stop making it everyone else's problem. if this ramping up of pestering people is some strange attempt to shut down criticism of the next ep before it even drops, you're wasting your time. the view counts on helluva show it's turned off a lot of people and you can't debate someone back into loving something that's let them down too many times

just go enjoy the show in your own spaces and block tags/people whose takes you don't want to see. trying to police people's critiques on helluva is both a losing battle and a waste of time

“Stolas is great if you just pay attention to his sad backstory and try not to think about the bad stuff he did. And attribute all the bad stuff to Blitz being a mentally ill tsundere”

Any time I am exposed to a owlizard shipper it’s always against my will despite my best efforts, because they are absolutely everywhere. The creator of the show is one of them, the entire show was thrown out to instead be catered to them and their headcanons. They make up almost the entire fan space and in fact shippers write and animate the very show itself.

But it’s still not good enough? They still have to rant about people that aren’t on their team?

[puppy-pudding]

I know this isn’t necessarily related to shifting. BUT! I wanted to explain and maybe mention a couple things for some motivation for the shifters who are struggling to find the want to keep going on their shifting/manifesting journey!

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

To starts off, shifting is easy. Yea, I know you have heard this MULTIPLE times, but it is the truth. Don’t over complicate it! It’s as easy as one, two, three. Quite literally.

belief

consistency

success

I use this ALL the times as a checkbook to get my desires! I mades it up while in the shower, wwwww… (if you are going to take this idea, DO NOT claim it as yours! Give me credit, or don’t post it at all!), — besides that! It’s called the 1, 2, 3 method (usually for my manifestations! But I’ve used it for shifting too!), or you can calls it B.C.S.

To go more in depth— here’s a little explanation!

𝜗  ﾟׅ   ၄ 🍮 ၃  ׅ     𝜚 ﾟׅ

belief: it is literally what you’ve been seeing all over tumblr! Your self-concept is the main key to all of this. Think of it this way… The way you perceive everything. You THINK and SEE the world around you, the 3D, to be like that. So, in return, your world will revolve and show those exact beliefs to be true. It will be like that, since you said so. Now that is cleared up- put that in perspective into whatever you think about your situation: how hard it is to do ___, how long ____ is taking, why won’t ____ happen, etc! Once you are done with that, revise it. Instead of thinking of how hard it is to do whatever, change perspectives: “It is not hard at all, it is easy. I always do ___ and it comes naturally to me.” / “I always have everything come to me quick and efficiently, oh look! I just got a text from ___. And my package was just delivered! This is all so easy!” / “___ already happened, I just experienced that. And I always expect to experience that, whenever I want. Because it will forever be like that.”

𝜗  ﾟׅ   ၄ 🍮 ၃  ׅ     𝜚 ﾟׅ

does that make sense? That was what people call affirming. It’s really plain and simple. Now, there is another thing that is important! The ‘C’ word.

𝜗  ﾟׅ   ၄ 🍮 ၃  ׅ     𝜚 ﾟׅ

consistency: Ding Ding Ding! You seemed to forget to do something? What was it? It was stay consistent and dedicated. You can’t keep having something if you aren’t consistent, can you? You can’t keep your dream job if you aren’t consistent at working at it? How will you stay famous if you don’t keep making your fans happy? That’s the point. With consistency, comes stability. What do I mean by this? Well, it all ties back to B. Belief needs constant confirmation. How? Let’s brain dump for a second. You consume a lot of this “shifting” and “manifesting” content every day. You also consume a lot of what you BELIEVE and/or think is right and you like. It’s how the social media algorithm works! The more you like something, the more likely it’ll show up. And the more you consume that, the more you’ll think about it. The more you think about it, the more you’ll want to consume. And the more it’ll show up. It’s a cycle. Now, that sounds… pretty familiar? It is, and should be. It’s exactly how consistency works. If you use social media, TikTok, even tumblr—! You should know that the more you like, or the more you follow people with related topics, the more it’ll show up. If you affirm consistently, the belief will become more solid. More stable. Your subconscious is the foundation of your reality, of your relationships, of YOU. So this means, as you’ve seen before, your subconscious can control anything and everything around you. Your beliefs are also the second building block to your subconscious. And being consistent with those beliefs and principles, will make your subconscious mind warp and change your reality into those beliefs. The more you affirm, even if it’s just a couple sentences each day, it’ll give you want I call ‘S’.

𝜗  ﾟׅ   ၄ 🍮 ၃  ׅ     𝜚 ﾟׅ

Now, there is the last thing! The letter S.

𝜗  ﾟׅ   ၄ 🍮 ၃  ׅ     𝜚 ﾟׅ

success: Now that has happened. It’s already there. All of it. You shifting, you manifesting, you changing EVERYTHING in your life. You changing the 3D to match the 4D. That’s all. It’s that easy.

As easy as 1, 2, 3 !

⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒⌒

Things I’ve manifested!

🐾🎀(๑>◡<๑)୭♡ᵎᵎ 

I manifested! (With subliminals + affirming!)

I manifested doll-like beauty with a small, slim dolly babyface with a v-shaped slim, small chin. ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮🐾🎀 ⋅ ☆ I manifested a sharp yet soft jawline that is rounded, free from any fat on the jawline, chin, and neck. ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮🐾🎀 ⋅ ☆ I got a tiny little forehead and short mid-face. I also manifested cherubic, squishy pink cheeks. ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮🐾🎀 ⋅ ☆ I manifested skin that is clear, pristine, beautiful, and youthful, free from wrinkles, smile lines, and skin creases. The skin tone I got is complemented by a rosy pink undertone. ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮🐾🎀 ⋅ ☆ Standing at 4’8”, I manifested a tiny body frame. I got a low BMI with a petite waist and small shoulders. I manifested a flat chest, cute heart-shaped thigh gap, and slim calves. I also got thick, soft thighs and small feet. ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮🐾🎀 ⋅ ☆ Lastly, I manifested a blush on joints, shoulders, and knees.

If you want to know anything else about how I did it, just send an ask! I can also send my playlist! (I need to revamp it, since some of the creators got deleted wwwww… ⸝⸝ •́  ࿁  •̀ ⸝⸝)

[rotisseries]

don't love the numbers at the end of my url but the rotisserie @ is already taken😐

[astearisms]

fionna and cake drawings before and after watching the episodes so far. it’s nostalgic and somehow cathartic and poignant and relatable and—it just started

[dynamitekansai]

THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)