#and I don’t know. I don’t think I���m capable of keeping them in my life as an adult

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart. 

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him. 

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend. 

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart. 

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them. 

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it. 

However… 

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up. 

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.” 

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue. 

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has  strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right. 

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.” 

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation. 

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen. 

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks. 

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you. 

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call. 

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention. 

He starts speaking once he knows he has it. 

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.” 

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues. 

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.” 

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud. 

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.” 

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.” 

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand. 

A validation. 

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are. 

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?” 

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had. 

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you. 

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all. 

“Yes, she’s safe with me.” 

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.” 

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.” 

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen. 

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready. 

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi. 

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.” 

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end. 

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across. 

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.” 

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words. 

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has. 

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break? 

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world. 

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.” 

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.” 

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it. 

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty. 

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling. 

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible. 

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end. 

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it. 

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?” 

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?” 

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?” 

There’s simply no way this is real. 

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.” 

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now? 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior. 

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?” 

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him. 

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued. 

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest. 

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange. 

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside. 

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest. 

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol. 

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie. 

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you? 

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders. 

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for. 

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?” 

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside? 

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face. 

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.” 

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety. 

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?” 

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth. 

And your words seep into his fist. 

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.” 

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?” 

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can’t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.” 

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.” 

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality. 

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin. 

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek. 

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment. 

“You have a bathtub?” 

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you. 

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen. 

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you. 

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach. 

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life. 

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being. 

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again. 

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well. 

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face. 

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way. 

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.” 

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too. 

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly. 

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours. 

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?” 

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging. 

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.” 

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.” 

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his. 

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand. 

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this. 

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk. 

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness. 

He might have just found his ultimate weakness. 

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him. 

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily. 

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.” 

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city. 

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time. 

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe. 

“Did I remind you of it again?” 

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water. 

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?” 

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him. 

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser. 

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into. 

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts. 

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.” 

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it. 

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated. 

For now. 

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him. 

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.” 

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength. 

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.” 

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life. 

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.” 

You love him. 

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place. 

You love him. And it’s real. 

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around. 

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully. 

“Put it in.” 

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.” 

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.” 

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.” 

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.” 

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.  

This is happiness. 

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful. 

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child. 

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager. 

“Please, Jungkook, take me.” 

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath. 

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” 

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you. 

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite. 

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.” 

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger. 

He’s starving. Terribly starving. 

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you. 

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight. 

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.” 

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there. 

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.” 

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.” 

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.” 

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation. 

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you. 

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you. 

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?” 

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound. 

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.” 

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him. 

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you. 

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this. 

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.” 

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him. 

“I want you.” 

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?” 

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.” 

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.” 

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity. 

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know. 

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love. 

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist. 

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.” 

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to. 

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him. 

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm. 

“That’s enough.” 

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all. 

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists. 

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.” 

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over. 

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased. 

Looks like you need another form of punishment. 

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will. 

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for. 

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes. 

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?” 

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.” 

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you. 

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?” 

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger. 

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level. 

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him. 

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?” 

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him. 

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?” 

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down. 

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there. 

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?” 

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.” 

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.” 

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart. 

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.” 

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair. 

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?” 

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night. 

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you. 

He overflows with a thrumming life. 

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?” 

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there. 

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?” 

You merely laugh through your nose. 

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you. 

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.” 

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again. 

“Good night,” you say. 

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[aakeysmash]

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Previous part: part 4.

Next part: part 6.

A/N: High School Musical references (watch the movies!!!). I recommend you to read part 1 again, because a lot of references I made here are also said in the first chapter. This could look like a filler chapter, but it’s really important for future developments!

Word count: 2.2k.

You’re relaxing on your bed on a deserved day off, brand new AC on and a cold glass of orange juice in your hand. You’re scrolling on your phone, chuckling at various memes and sending most of them to Ochaco, who will probably complain about finding 62 videos from you and having to react to each one. You’re planning on doing absolutely nothing today, just munching on snacks and sleeping. Maybe you’re going to put on that show you’ve been wanting to see. This is the life, you think.

“FUCK THIS SHIT!”

You’re startled out of your mind, again. Katsuki has been screaming at the top of his lungs since this morning, but you don’t even know the reason why. You hear his stream of curses from the wall between your rooms.

You’re very annoyed: he’s ruining your perfect day off. How dare he. You throw punches on the wall for the upteenth time, hoping he will stop or go outside to do whatever is bugging him.

“Stop fucking doing that!” He screams back at you, and you get even angrier. You decide you had enough, so you get up from your bed and march towards his room. You throw his door open without caring about his privacy.

He snaps his head towards you, scowling worser than usual.

“D’you ever heard about fucking knocking?” He barks at you. He looks disheveled: his usually spiky hair is a mess, and you assume he keeps on yanking it; you can feel his eye bags, and he probably didn’t have a good night of sleep in two weeks.

“Damn, you look bad” you mumble looking at him from head to toe. You lose a bit of your anger and almost feel bad. Almost.

“Well, I don’t care, you’re ruining my perfect day, so if you need to scream go out” you say glaring at him.

“This is my fucking house too” he snarls. “If I want to scream because I don’t want to do this shit, then I’m gonna do it. You’re free to leave and never return” he responds looking you up and down. He’s got a point.

You scoff. Sometimes he really has the audacity to speak when he shouldn’t be speaking. “What are you even doing? What’s this big thing that’s bothering you so much?”.

He grits his teeth and stays silent. The way he doesn’t want you to know the reason why he’s so angry just makes you become more curious. Oh, I’m about to get so annoying when I find out. Just so you wait, Katsuki.

“Come on, don’t be a kid. Let’s make a deal: I’ll make you a cup of hot chocolate if you tell me” you try to bribe him. In one of his nicest moments, he complimented the way you know how to “make it just right”, just to take it back immediately after noticing those words left his mouth. Also, your roommate likes to eat and drink hot things even if it’s summer. He’s a weirdo.

He looks conflicted. He really wants a sweet treat, and he knows that he’s not capable of doing it the way you do (he already tried and failed). He blames it on the fact you keep on saying that you add a secret ingredient that he doesn’t know, because there’s just no way he’s not good at doing everything he puts his mind into. He ponders about it for what feels like 3 minutes, where you both stay completely silent.

“I’ll even add whipping cream.”

You try suppressing your grin: he’s sold, you see it in the way he grits his teeth even harder. “I’m revising my thesis’ grammar.”

You instantly become smug, all your anger forgotten. Bingo. “The big buff Bakugou Katsuki is mad about some grammar? Really? I thought you were stronger than that, pussy” you tease him with a smirk on your face.

He tries throwing you one of the books he keeps on his desk, but you dodge it. Then you lean on his door and cross your arms, while he goes on and screams “GET OUT! You’re bothering me even more”.

“Stop screaming, oh my god”, you whine. “What would it take for you to return being the quiet kid at the back of the class? You’re so annoying like this” you say exhausted. You get one day off in 3 weeks, there is no way he’s ruining it. You’re finding joy in annoying him, though, it’s so fun.

“I was never the quiet kid, I ain’t no loser like you. Get the fuck out of my room” he bites back. He doesn’t need to know it, but you were indeed the quiet kid.

“Well, guess I won’t help you then” you reply, shrugging. You didn’t even ask if he wanted your help, and you didn’t come in his room to help him, but now you’re just rubbing in his face that you can go and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day, while he boils himself away in his despair.

You start closing his door, yawning and teasing him some more. “Continue screaming while I go and watch Love Island without you”. You have to turn around to hide your expression.

You hear him curse under his breath. “Fuck, wait, I really wanna see that”, he says, sounding desperate. “Aren’t you enrolled in literature or some shit?”.

You face him with the biggest devious smile you can muster. “Yeah, why?”

The vein on his forehead is about to pop. “How good are you at correcting grammar?”, he says.

You look like you won the lottery. “Ooooh you want my help? Do you want me to revise your little thesis for you? Little ol’ me? Weren’t you saying to get the fuck out?” You say walking towards his still sitting form. He’s super rigid, like asking you to help him is requiring him all the strength of the world and the planets and the solar system together. He closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He tries the breathing exercises they taught him in highschool to manage his fury, when he really started managing his anger issues. You’re getting on his last nerves, but revising all he wrote in months is also getting on his nerves.

“Can you at least pretend to not enjoy this as much as you currently are? You’re a devil” he spits out. Well, he could’ve said something meaner, so the breathing exercises must have worked a little.

“Mean. I guess you don’t want my help then”, you respond, feigning innocence.

“Let’s make one thing clear: I’m a boss at doing shit like this. I’m just tired of doing it, ‘cause I’ve been at it for a day straight. I’m good at everything, so you’ll probably find a comma that I forgot to type, not much more than that”, he adds, glaring up at you. You’re now standing next to him, but the fact he’s still sitting has you staring at him from above. This simple act is driving him insane: if he’s not in control he gets antsy, and you seem to know it, because you’re standing really proud.

You decide on dropping the facade a little, because you enjoy revising things. And he does look exhausted.

“Sure, send me the file and I’ll look into it” you say. Now you’re going outside of his room to make his chocolate, but he thinks you’re just running away.

“Wait. What do you want in return?” He says squinting at you. There’s no way she’s doing it because she’s nice, he thinks.

You look at him, dumbfounded. “Huh?”

“Don’t fucking “huh” me. What do you want? Why are you doing this?” He responds, serious.

You raise one eyebrow and stay silent for a bit, then you tell him “Because I’m nice? Have you ever heard about kindness? Not everything is a transaction, business man” then you close his door without waiting for an answer, leaving him confused and somewhat angry.

You start doing his hot chocolate while singing to yourself, when suddenly his door is thrown open and he exits it, staring at you.

“Tell me what you want” he says coming closer to you and crossing his arms. It sounds more like a statement than a question.

You look at him and respond “Tell me what you neeeed”, singing.

“What the fuck are you saying?”

“High School Musical? That one scene in the second film where they all sing in the kitchen? Really?” You ask, and he looks confused.

“I’ve never seen those films. They look pathetic.” He responds, rolling his eyes and looking at you putting whipping cream on his hot chocolate. You look shocked, and you hang your mouth open.

“You’ve never seen High School Musical?!” You almost scream.

He winces, rubs his ears and then proceeds to say “What’s so weird about it? It’s not like it’s a cult or something”.

“Yes! Yes it is! You know what? We’re going to watch it right now. And you can’t refuse, or I won’t revise your thesis” you tell him while poking him in the chest. Soft.

He kisses his teeth, huffs and goes to sit himself on the couch.

“I knew you weren’t doing it for free, manipulator” he glares at you.

You shrug, while putting his cup in front of him and bringing him some cookies. He mumbles a thanks, relaxing.

“I was going to help you regardless, but if I can make you suffer it’s funnier” you tell him, positioning yourself next to him and stealing one of the biscuits you brought for him.

“You’re such a bitch.”

“A bitch who’s going to do your work, so shut up and watch people fall in love in highschool” you bite back. You both roll your eyes.

Neither to say, he hates the movies with a passion. He thinks that high school is portrayed poorly, that Gabriella is the real villain, that they’re all pretentious bitches, that Troy should’ve went away because none of them were truly his friends since they weren’t supporting him.

You keep on huffing while he tells you all these “that”s.

“Katsuki, it’s not like it’s reality. It’s a musical. Just focus on the songs and the love, damn” you whine while throwing a punch at his bicep. He doesn’t budge and your hand hurts.

“That’s not my definition of love” he simply states.

“Yeah? And what’s your definition of love?” You ask him, curious.

He raises one of his eyebrows. “Why would I share something like that with you?”.

“Because I’m doing your work. And we’re friends. Sort of. And you like my chocolate” you respond, while blushing a little. You know you tend to be a little too curious and nosey, but it’s just because you pay a lot of attention to details. Details are everything to you. You’re quick to backtrack seeing his hostile behaviour towards this topic, and you start saying that it’s not a big deal and you should’ve minded your business, when he interrupts you.

“And what is your definition of love?”

He looks relaxed, like asking this isn’t that bothersome. Like he wants you to know you too. Like he cares, in some way.

“Love is a lot of things for me” you resort to say. Just how much can you be specific without scaring him away?

“Yeah, you’re waiting for me to talk about it first. I get it, dumbass. I’m not very good with words on this aspect though, so I’m sorry, but your curiosity won’t be quelled” he responds, rolling his eyes. From the start of this conversation he hasn’t stopped breathing normally, almost as if this is a regular conversation for him. He hasn’t stopped looking at you, too, but you’re trying to ignore that.

“Then let’s make a deal. Saturday we’re picking a thing that we think helps us explain what we think about love” you burst out. He’s about to protest, but you’re not finished.

“Love as in general love! Love can be outside of romantic relationships too, so let’s settle on love between friends! I’d never go out with you like that” you add. You jump out of the couch. You feel like you might catch on fire if you stay near him one more second. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you like you’re something he wants to dissect.

“Okay” he simply responds. You’re dumbfounded.

“Really? You’re okay with this? I thought you were going to say no” You say.

“Yeah, but let’s say that we can both decide on either going out or staying in. This is not a date, you said it yourself, so I don’t see a problem with it. It will just be like one of our movie nights, it’s not like we never spend time together, dumbass” he says, getting up and stretching his hand towards you.

“So? Are you in? Or are you scared of doing something much less meaningful than me?” He tells you, smirking.

You glare at him and compose yourself. Then, you stretch his hand.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

Taglist:

@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo

I couldn’t tag the ones in pink :(

[sl-newsie]

Query: Q x 00 Agent- Ch. 1: New Instructions

Sometimes people get what they want. Life provides them with loving family, a warm home, and assuring comfort. That can make a person lazy if they take it for granted. Other times, life gives you the short end of the stick. I will never get what I want. But you learn to live with that when you’re a 00 Agent.

It’s not that I’m unhappy serving my country. A true British patriot at heart. However my loyalty always seems to falter when my country never seems to reward me in return. Granted, my life could be a boring job with me trapped behind a desk. Instead M let me be a field agent, despite me being the youngest trainee. I’ve only been an official 00 agent for a year, but I’ve learned as much as what an ordinary soldier does in a lifetime. M did say that Bond, Agent 007, is the best of the best. And his teachings have proven just that.

But I guess even Bond gets unlucky sometimes. When he got shot in the field it took a harder hit on his mind rather than his body. The older agent seems to have re-thought how capable he is because I keep hearing rumors about him taking a desk job, which is what both him and I refer to as the MI6 talk for retirement.

Right now I'm returning from the training room, my abs practically melting from all the push-ups I’ve just suffered through. I hear a grunt from the shadows, and turn to see 007 rubbing his chest where the bullet struck him.

“How is it today?” I inquire softly.

He gives a dark chuckle. “Not one of my better days, Levie.”

My nickname. I’m 0011, so he calls me Levie. He must be having a bad day.

“I’m sorry, Bond. I truly am.”

“I know. Sorry for being so gloomy, but I get an excuse.”

I nod and go to sit on a nearby bench. “I don’t blame you. It doesn’t help that-”

But I cut myself off before I go further. This is beginning to stretch into a conversation I’d rather now venture through, but now Bond is suspicious.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.” He steps closer. “What?”

I sigh in defeat and look down to avoid his piercing gaze. “It doesn’t help that at your age, chances of recovery are less flexible.”

Bond takes a minute to digest these words, then huffs. “You saying I’m old?”

“I’m saying you're experienced.”

“Between you and Mallory I’d think I’m becoming an old man. Now that you’re here, walk with me.” Bond gestures for me to follow as he starts walking towards the offices. 

MI6 is far from what I’d call exciting. Unless there’s an emergency, the office space is normally tame compared to the world outside. I follow Bond to the elevator, where he informs me he just had a meeting with M.

“I’m about to be assigned a new mission. More than likely you’ll accompany me, as usual. I’ve even got a new Quartermaster. Sounds like you do too, from what M tells me.”

Um, yay? I guess this new one can’t be as bad as my old one. He was very old-fashioned in his thinking and always thought I should have never been promoted to 00 status because of my age.

“Is he good?”

Bond chuckles and turns to meet my eye. “You’ll like him.”

“Why?” I ask, slightly intrigued.

“You’ll see.” The elevator dings and Bond steps out into the hall leading to the vehicle depot. 

“When will I meet him?” I call out.

He turns to give a quick wave and answers: “He’ll find you.” 

Then the door closes, leaving me to ride back up to await my next instructions. Once I’m on the top floor I head to the roof access stairs, stepping out into the cool air for some time to think. Ever since that list of names has been leaked, my mind’s been far from easy. Not that I have anything to lose if I die, but death isn’t really something I’d planned on yet.

“0011?” A voice comes from behind.

I don’t even turn around, still staring at the Londoners walking about below. “Hello, Eve. Got any good news for me?”

Eve’s a few years older than me, which gets her a bigger pull in the workforce. People expect her to be responsible and me to be naive. But she, along with M, treat me as any other agent, which I am always grateful for.

“I am told to tell you that you are to meet your new Quartermaster in exactly 2 hours at the Blixen.”

My breath catches. “Hm. Isn’t that a bit much for a first meeting?”

“M chooses the locations, not me. You’re lucky she didn’t send you to a stuffy museum like she did with Bond.” Eve grips my shoulders and gives me a pointed look. “Wear something nice. Remember, no fighting at the dinner table. This is an adult matter.”

I roll my eyes at her teasing and we both start laughing. 

“I’ll find something, no problem. My apartment is basically a fashion warehouse.”

“I’ve always wondered why you chose a tiny apartment. With your payroll you could do much better.”

I shrug. “No one to take up space but Cricket and me.”

Eve rolls her eyes. “Your cat has become your boyfriend.”

In my line of work, the term ‘boyfriend’ hardly comes into the radar. People sometimes get what they want, sometimes life has other plans.

Eve must mistake my silence for nerves regarding tonight’s meeting. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. He’s nice.”

For some oddball reason, her encouraging words feel more like she’s preparing me for a date rather than a mission briefing.

[slitheringghost]

Tom Riddle for 4 & 8

4. fav fic w them in it

I am endlessly recommending slashmarks Voldemort because they write the absolute BEST version and it’s criminal that their fics don’t get more attention in Tom Riddle circles. I've recced these in my Voldemort rec lists, but reccing again - among the top favs are:

of all my demon spirits by slashmarks (Tom & Ginny, 1.7k, T)

Rec: Ginny writes to Tom after the events of CoS. Paints a detailed picture of Tom and Ginny's relationship, and it's a great character study of Tom in addition to Ginny.

But I think maybe you were lying when you said that I was boring and stupid after all. Do you remember when we talked about the last war and I didn’t understand how anybody could think muggles were animals, because even if I don’t really know any muggles we go into the village to get groceries and stuff all the time and Mrs. Hoof keeps sweets by the counter just to give them to kids like me? You teased me about being bought with candy, but then you said the Death Eaters had to decide muggles weren’t people in order to kill them, and that really most people do that all of the time, like with house elves and stuff. You said that it was because most people are hypocrites and can’t face their real choices, but I think maybe it’s something you do, too, Tom. Maybe I had to be a boring and stupid little girl because you were about to kill me.

endless nights took on my whole life by slashmarks (Bellatrix/Voldemort, Voldemort & Rodolphus, Bellatrix & Rodolphus, Sirius & Bellatrix, 12.4k, M)

Rec: My absolute favorite Tom Riddle POV. A HILARIOUS Voldemort and Rodolphus dynamic in addition to a wonderful Bellamort.

"I'll introduce you tonight," said Riddle. "We're going to meet her at her grandmother's house - Vera Rosier, I mean. Go get changed, I assume you need to go and find the correct cuff links and cloak trim for meeting a single girl in the presence of her widowed grandmother on a weekend in September during a waning half moon, or something." "As my lord permits," said Lestrange, sure the fact that he was gritting his teeth was audible. He bowed his head, jerkily, and left the room. Bellatrix was a new experience for Tom, as something of a kindred spirit. Abraxas might be the closest thing Tom would admit to a brother, but he had no real patience for magical theory or interest in it beyond utilitarian concerns, and Reinhard was simply too nice a person, deep down, a condition even the Lestranges had never cured him of. Bellatrix, though, was capable of sharing everything for the first time: she could keep up with him intellectually, she was as fascinated by magic as him, and any squeamish bone had long ago been extracted. Best of all, she shared Tom Riddle's fervent loathing for every aspect of magical Britain's society and his desire to personally torture to death most of the Wizengamot, which Tom had always known better than to fully express even to Abraxas.

8. fav ship with them

Probably Bellamort, but shoutout to my rarest pair Lilymort, which I mostly ship platonically but also enjoy romantically. Riddledore would probably be my #1 if I could get past Dumbledore being too old for me to ship (sry for the ageism…)

[forever-fixating]

WIP Wednesday

OMG hey! It's been a while, I know. IRL can be a real energy suck, but I have recharged my batteries and have some goodies to share. Thanks to @onthewaytosomewhere for the tag! I'm doing this under a cut because I'm sharing bits from living in a new normal and Tournament for His Heart! Enjoy!

living in a new normal

“Hey, talk to me.”

Swallowing, Henry said, “It’s risky. I don’t know that I trust myself not to be able to hide how happy you make me.”

“Good thing we’ll be so busy with the kids,” Alex laughed. He moved closer and put an arm around Henry’s waist. “Baby, you’re gonna be overseas with me soon for three months. I know you’re worried about people talking, but let them talk. That doesn’t have to affect us.”

Henry turned his face toward Alex and accepted his gentle kiss, murmuring against his lips, “You’re right.”

“I know I am,” Alex said with a grin. “Besides, you think you’re the only one here finding it hard to hide how happy you are?”

“Have you been hiding?” Henry asked. “I’ve seen your Lives and Instagram stories. Nothing but sappy love songs, darling.”

“You fucking love it, don’t lie!”

Henry did. Alex’s knowledge of music and its history was impressive, to say the least. One minute, he would be talking about the history of Motown and Berry Gordy’s manipulative and predatory contracts, and the next, he would be ranting that The Chicks did nothing wrong when Natalie said what she said about Bush and he would kill to collaborate with them on a song. He promised to show Henry his vast collection of eight-tracks, vinyls, cassette tapes, and CDs. Music made him come alive. This wasn’t someone who was a casual fan of music. Alex was in a life-long love affair with it.

So, when it came to his IG Lives and Stories, Henry didn’t know what to expect. It could be a song from Taylor Swift, Billie Holiday, or Wham. When he sang a country version of the duo’s song Freedom, Henry could only respond via text with a string of lovey-dovey emojis. It was ridiculous, and Henry couldn’t get enough.

A Tournament for His Heart

“Love, remember the shadows,” Alex read aloud. “Talk to Pip.”

At the trio of confused expressions, Alex explained Henry’s final message and his belief that some kind of danger scared Henry into cutting off their correspondence. Zahra turned to Ellen again and said, “Your Majesty, I believe it would be a grave mistake to send your children to Lerasea. You must decline.”

“I will go,” Alex snapped. At Zahra’s thunderous expression, he said, “Keep June here if you must to ensure the line of succession, but Henry is in danger. I will not leave him to whatever fate Mary has in store for him.”

Ellen reached out to take his hand and squeeze it. Her voice was soft when she asked, “You still love him…don’t you?”

Alex nodded, his throat suddenly too tight to speak. Zahra, ever the pragmatist, said, “Your Highness, while you may still harbor some tenderness toward the prince, I beg you to think about this rationally.”

He glanced at the advisor and the paper in her hand. “This is the list of your fellow suitors. Twelve of them are using proxies, some of the most skilled knights across creation. Even with our very best, there is no guarantee you will be successful. Why open yourself up to the possibility of that heartbreak?”

“I will not use a proxy,” Alex stated. “I will compete myself.”

His mother’s grip on his hand tightened while Zahra snapped, “Alexander, this is not a game! Are you truly so arrogant to believe yourself capable of defeating anyone they put before you?”

“I would break every fucking bone in my body if that’s what it took to be with Henry again!” Alex shouted. His words echoed in the chambers. His body was flooded with adrenaline, but he forced himself to take a moment to calm down. Looking at his mother, with whom his fate and future happiness rested, he said, “I apologize for my tone and language. I don’t believe this will be easy. In fact, I relish the challenge. It is not arrogance that fuels me but love. I love him, Your Majesty. Then and now, that feeling has not changed or wavered. It has remained as constant as the suns, the moons, and the stars. Please let me do this.”

Author's Note: No matter the universe, Alex has zero chill when it comes to his Henry. I'm working on these stories, hopefully I'll have something for yall soon. I have a giant summer with plenty of downtime ahead of me. Later, taters!

[medusapelagia]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Oh this is such a lovely ask!

Thank you dear!!!

So my favorite 5 fics are: Second Chances Mixtape, pre Steddie, Time travel AU | Rating M | words: 49,000 | 5 chapters | complete

It's 1986 and the plan to kill Vecna was a disaster: Vecna escaped, Hawkins was devasted by an earthquake and Eddie Munson is dead. Or so they presume.

“The cassette player broke.” Lucas whispers after hours of silence. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t help her. I was right there, but I couldn’t help her.” Steve holds him tighter, he has no words of comfort for him and he knows exactly how he feels. How hard is he judging himself, how he is playing the entire movie of the night in his head trying to find the point in time where he could have fixed everything. Steve knows all of that because he and Lucas are so similar and he is doing the very same thing, thinking about Eddie. Only…. Only Steve has another thought that doesn’t let him breathe: did he really hate him? Steve can’t deny that he was jealous of Dustin’s new cool friend but… did he let them risk their lives because he was jealous?

Hidden Treasure, Metal Sandwich, Pirate AU, Omegaverse | Rating E | words: 64,283 | 15 chapters | complete

In an omegaverse world, the alpha Billy Hargrove, captain of the pirate ship the Golden Lion, is traveling with his lover and second in command, the beta Eddie Munson, and their crew, raiding every merchant ship they can get their hands on. One day during one of their attacks, they stumble on a pretty beta boy who’s trying to get back to London, paying for his journey with golden jewels. Why is Steve, the pretty boy, so desperate to get to London quickly? Is he running from something? But the more important question is: is he really a beta or not?

The restless sea calls back to you, Harringrove, Mermaid AU| Rating E | Words:15,156 | One shot

When the training ends Steve brings Billy back to his tank. The merboy is tired and he has red bruises where Neil hurt him. “You ok?” It’s a stupid question, Steve knows that, but he can’t avoid it. “Are you worried about me, Harrington? How sweet.” The merboy replies, licking his sharp teeth “Maybe next time you’ll get into my tank I’ll keep you.” “Fuck you, Billy!” “Are you proposing, pretty boy?” It’s just their usual bickering but Steve can feel that his cheeks are blushing. “Oh, so you do have a crush on me. That makes so much sense: that’s why you are obsessed with me. Don’t worry, pretty boy, I’m not going to fuck you… at least not as you are thinking, but I’ll keep fucking with you because it’s the funniest thing that I can do in this stupid place.” Billy replies and then he gets underwater, while Steve stares at his big red tale covered in shimmering scales. “He has an attitude, I’ll give him that.” Hargrove says appearing from nowhere “But stay away from him. He is still a mermaid and even if he hasn’t had the time to learn the songs from other mermaids he is still capable of convincing you to kill yourself in his tank. It would not be the first time.”

Separate Ways, Harringrove, Modern AU| Rating E | Words:47,969 | 22 chapters | complete

Steve Harrington is a famous model whose life depends on his manager and (more or less) lover, Tommy Hagan. After a bar fight, he meets Officer William Hargrove, recently transferred to the NY Police Department and with a deep personal experience with a violent environment, who can clearly see the signs of domestic violence in Steve’s relationship with Tommy. Determined to help the pretty boy escape from his abusive relationship, Billy gets closer and closer to Steve.

I'm so good at telling lies (it comes from my mother's side), Steddie, Ballet AU, Omegaverse | Rating E | Words: 40,216 | 19 chapters | complete

"The first time Steve sees a ballerina it isn't a real one. It is a carillon that he sees at Malvald during the Christmas holiday. It is a blue box with a white swan and a little doll that spins around to the sound of a sweet melody. Steve has never seen something more beautiful in his life."

Steve is a male Omega who wants to study ballet at the Performing Arts Academy in New York, and who is trying to find a job that pays enough to cover his school fees. Nancy is a female Alpha, who wants to study journalism. Eddie is the youngest teacher at the New York Performing Arts Academy .

[sunkeeperxiv]

FFXIV Write 13 - Butte

Timeline/spoilers: Pre-ARR, in a Stormblood location

Khayta is new to Gyr Abania. And Seeker tribes and customs. And excessive hiking, and uniforms, and heat, and--

It had taken a full day’s travel, but finally, the soldier Khayta was accompanying pointed up, toward a gap in the cliffs they were hiding under, and pointed to a tall, narrow rock formation in the distance.

“There,” she said, her own relief at the sight reflected in the way her ears pricked forward. “That’s the M tribe’s home. We’ll be there before nightfall, if we don’t get held up by any more patrols.” Khayta stared up at the butte, trying to discern any signs of life up there. There was maybe a small column of smoke rising from the top, but otherwise it looked like any other rock formation. It was surprising to think there was a whole seeker tribe atop it. It was a good, secluded, defensible spot.

The soldier - J’raylia - didn’t pause for long. After only a moment’s admiration, she was off again, keeping to the shadow of the cliff face, ears swiveling back and forth once again. Khayta took a deep breath, tried to ignore how dry her mouth was, and followed. The sight of their destination had given her something of a second wind. Her feet still ached, and under the uniform the Resistance had given her she felt as if she was melting, but she felt as if she could make it.

Now, though, the worry she’d been tamping down surfaced with new vigor. She forced herself to speed up until she was right behind J’raylia - if there was a time to ask questions, it was now. “When we get there, if there anything I need to know? Anything I should do?”

J’raylia shot her a confused look. “Just be respectful? The M tribe’s not really all that special, all in all.” She made a noncommittal gesture with her hand. “Act the way you’d want a visitor to your tribe to act.”

“We don’t— I’ve never visited a Seeker tribe before. I grew up in my mother’s homestead, not a tribe.”

J’raylia hummed and paused. “Thought I heard you were trying to return to yours, though?”

Khayta nodded. “Sort of? I want to find my da’s tribe, but I’ve never been there. I only remember his stories about it.” They came to a gap in the cliffs, and paused their conversation, silently and carefully crossing the open ground.

J’raylia had her advice ready when Khayta caught up. “The M tribe hasn’t had much in the way of trade lately, so the majority of the members are hunters. Don’t assume or imply those who are merchants or crafters are less important or capable than the hunters, though. Times like these, merchant's work is more dangerous than hunting is. Their Nuhn is M’rahz, he’s a decent sort. Has been for years and years.”

“The Nuhn is the leader, right?” The Nuhn of the X tribe had been a recurring, if mysterious, authority figure in many of her father’s stories.

“Not always,” J’raylia replied. “For the M tribe, though, yeah. The Nuhn is the tribe’s father, and since only the best Tias can become Nuhns, they command a certain amount of respect. Your da would’ve been a Nuhn, I’m guessing.”

“He— no, he wasn’t. His name was X’khleti Tia.”

That got J’raylia to turn around and fix Khayta with an appraising stare. “Tias are tias because they ain’t fit to sire kits,” she said, after a long pause. “If they were, they’d become Nuhns.”

Khayta might have felt like a pile of sweat, mush and aches being held together by the buckles on her jerkin, but she knew an insult when she heard one. She flattened her ears, back and out. “Me mother and Menphina decided differently. Whose judgment are you insultin’, of the two?”

J’raylia’s ears twitched, then laid back and down in response. “No-one’s! I’m sure— I suppose it works different, for those who leave their tribes. …Or grow up outside them. Can’t challenge t’be Nuhn if there isn’t one around.” It wasn’t exactly an apology, but J’raylia had already spun around and continued down the trail, and Khayta practically had to trot to keep up. It seemed J'raylia had no interest in continuing the conversation. It was an acceptable enough resolution for Khayta, focused as she was on putting one foot in front of the other.

She supposed it would probably be best to keep that piece of personal trivia close to her chest in the future, though.

[melancholic-hues]

my love for you (til death do us part)

posted on AO3

kafblade week 2024: prompt - destiny / trust / unconditional

fandom - honkai: star rail

rating - general audiences

warning - no warnings apply

category - f/m

pairings - blade/kafka

tags - kafblade week 2024 ; established relationship

word count - 616 words

-

The phonograph plays a slow, classical tune in the darkness of the room.

Kafka smiles, and Blade thinks nothing can match the beauty of her, from the twinkle in her mesmerizing eyes, the small smirk in her lips, the soft and smooth strands of her magenta hair that thread through his fingers like silk.

Her gown, the tiny embedded rhinestones glittering underneath the glow of the silver moonshine overhead, flows behind her every move, a trail she leaves in her wake. Despite the dress being made of the finest silks and made from the best tailors around for miles, Kafka had complained about having to wear the dress to formal events and greeting visitors from all over the world instead of, say, a dance.

Well, here they are now. Blade holds her hands in his, and they make their way across the dancefloor, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight gently filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He had promised to meet Kafka here after the palace to give her the dance she wanted to perform in this very dress.

When compared to her, he feels underdressed. Regardless, Kafka has made quite a few remarks about his physique in the suit he is wearing in the slips of time they were alone, brisk moments of desperately craved privacy in such a busy day for her.

He spins her out, her stepping into the beam of moonlight from the window in contrast to the darkness he is in, and pulls her back in again, her dress flourishing behind her like a stroke of color against the smooth, white marble floor. 

“Bladie ~ ” Kafka laughs, her voice like angelic bells jingling that can instantly hypnotize someone. It has hypnotized him, for sure.

“Yes, Kafka?” he mutters back, a small smile on his lips, holding her close to him. Her hands are on his chest, and his hands are on her waist, cradling her. Kafka has a faint dust of pink on her cheeks.

The tune, faintly humming in the background, now quiets into a soft melody filled with elegant legatos and gentle crescendo and decrescendos. Time itself seems to hold its breath — waiting waiting waiting, always waiting for them — as he awaits Kafka’s response.

Kafka looks into his eyes, hers full of sincere happiness, and her hands climb up to caress along his jaw. She pulls him down into a kiss, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. Her cold fingers press into his skin and leave phantom imprints even after they part. He can feel her lipstick, always a shade of bold red like her entire personality, smudged partly on his lips and partly on the skin around it. He doesn’t make any plans to wipe it off.

“Thank you, Bladie,” Kafka confesses.

Blade tilts his head, slowing down their dance. “For what?” If anything, he should be the one thanking her. She brought him purpose in this place, became the light his life needed.

“For everything. For listening to the words I have to say,” Kafka reaches up and tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear then cusps his cheek. Blade subconsciously leans into the touch, a slight dip in his brow.

“It’s the bare minimum,” he says.

Kafka’s smile turns sad. “Not many people do. You listen to me talk like my words are some, I don’t know, magical spell that keeps you enchanted until long after I stop. You think I’m the most capable person in the world, Bladie.”

“It’s because you are,” Blade firmly states.

“I love you,” Kafka says. The music crescendos, filling the room with a fast and loud tune.

“I love you too,” Blade responds, “Forever and always.”

Kafka’s smile is genuine, then.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for telling my deceased father to stay the hell away from my spirit medium daughter?

Hi! This is actually my second time posting here. You might remember me (30s F) from the time I asked about whether or not I was the asshole for growing a kid in a test tube without getting my wife’s express permission. That was a long time ago, now. Eight whole years, in fact! But things have been pretty alright for the most part since then.

My wife (30s F GNC) and I have been working through our issues. We’re in a good place now and have tried our very best to be parents. I’m proud of how we’ve raised our daughter. She’s an intelligent, kind, downright incredible kid, and neither of us would trade her for the world.

But, recently, our daughter (8 F) almost died. We did not actually lose her, thank the stars, but she had a near death experience. This near death experience ended up awakening latent magical powers in her, and now she’s developed the ability to see and speak with ghosts.

This would be stressful in any situation, but ours especially. You see, my wife and I both have lost ‘loved ones’ in the past. For him, it was his ex-wife (20s F), and for me, it was my father (40s M)

This was a very, VERY long time ago, but this was something that impacted the two of us greatly. Especially considering our relationships with our respective loved ones grew strained by the end there. Both his ex-wife and my father became abusive towards us, and although they were ‘not in their right minds,’ it was… traumatic.

My wife has always held complicated feelings regarding his ex-wife. He’s never hated her for what happened— not really. He just wishes he could have helped her before her mental health got to that point. But I… don’t feel the same way about my father. I mean… I loved him, and I know he loved me when he was still capable of it, but I resent him. A lot. In many ways, he ruined my life.

You can imagine my shock and horror, then, when my daughter said she met two particular ghosts while on the brink of death. She described them as “a pretty lady” and “a funny old man,” and said they helped her calm down and get back to her body. She says they were very kind to her.

I… have reason to believe that these spirits were the spirits of my wife’s ex-wife and my father, and I am very stressed about it.

When I talked to my wife, he seemed optimistic. He said he well and truly believed that maybe they’d turned over a new leaf— that maybe, in death, they were granted clarity and felt bad about all that they’d done to us. But I… just couldn’t feel the same way. I told him that it was okay if he felt that way about his ex-wife, but that I would never, EVER believe my father to be capable of such change.

Later that night, after he fell asleep, I went out to the garden alone. I knew that if my dad really was still around, that he’d be ‘watching over me,’ even if I couldn’t see him, and so I made a request: I told him to stay the hell away from my daughter. That he’d already ruined enough and that I wouldn’t let him hurt her too.

But now my daughter is very upset with me. She’s saying I made the ‘funny old man’ sad. She says he says he loves me and that he’s so sorry and he just wants to be able to talk to me. That he’s missed me so much and that it’s made his heart hurt to watch me suffer all these years.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t THINK I’m the asshole— I just want to keep my family safe, but at the same time, I don’t want to… to HURT my dad. Especially if… he really is responsible for making sure I didn’t lose my daughter. It’s just hard to believe he’s in his right mind now— that he’s the same ‘kind’ person he was when I was young, and reconcile that with the ways he mistreated me when he wasn’t. What am I supposed to do?

AITA?

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #636

Top Ten Actors Who Could Play The Master in Doctor Who

Today (or maybe yesterday; or maybe five days ago – I don’t know when you’re reading this. Maybe you’re from an advanced civilization a million years into the future, and somehow, inexplicably, this stupid blog is all that remains of human culture. Listen, if that’s the case: sometimes we were a lot funnier than this. Anyway…) the new “season” of Doctor Who begins. After the excitement of last winter’s sixtieth anniversary specials (Tennant! Tate! Trans positivity!) and the joy of the Christmas special (Gatwa! Gibson! Greedy little goblins!), we’re back into the series proper with the show’s third-ever first episode. I’m expecting monsters, weirdness, fun, and tears. I’m expecting a lot, frankly, because that’s what Doctor Who usually delivers. Come rain or shine, good shows and bad, Doctor Who is “a lot”.

Anyway, for ages I had a list tentatively planned about Doctor Who. The actual list itself has been in a lot of flux (no pun intended) but it was always going to be Doctor-adjacent. I do like to keep it relevant, y’know? But man alive, there has been a lot of news this week. I could write a list about the new Superman costume, or the fact that they’re making a bunch of new Lord of the Rings movies! And the magnificent X-Men 97 finishes up next week, and I wanna write something to go alongside that, so I can’t really just push something to next week… blimey, what a lot to go on, eh? The perils and stress of writing a stupid weekly listicle that no one reads.

However, I’ve decided to stick to the script and write about Doctor Who. Because – Christmas special notwithstanding – it’s the launch of a brand new era; the first season of the show in what I guess we can call “the Disney era”, when a co-production deal means that we get a ton of Mouse Cash splashed liberally over the TARDIS. As such, there’s an awful lot that’s new. And new Who means – inevitably – new actors stepping into classic roles.

One of the joys, of course, of Doctor Who is that the very concept is ripe for reinvention. The conceit of giving not just the central character but their entire race the ability to regenerate their appearance gives it a sense of life and refreshment denied most ongoing series; you can always have a new Doctor, and – naturally – you can always have a new Master.

The Master has been revived and rebooted many times, and their opposition to the Doctor is one of the cornerstones of Who. I’ve no idea when the Master will return; but it’s inevitable, at some point. Eventually Russell T. Davies, or his successor, will bring the Master back to fight (and flirt?) with the Doctor, and we’ll get another great actor to chew the scenery across all of space and time. The Master is a dark reflection of the Doctor – the classic staple of “just like the main character, but bad,” a character trope seen in everything from Reverse Flash to Face/Off to those slightly racist “Black Smurfs” – and as such the actor who plays them can be seen to be a reflection of, or commentary on, or compliment to, the actor who plays the Doctor.

So – because I have, once again, wanged on far too much �� I’m just going to dive right in. I think you know the drill by now. I’ve picked ten actors who I think would be great casting for the Master; as usual, I’m trying to be more-or-less realistic (we’re never getting Tom Cruise, for instance) and applying my own odd little criteria. So let’s jump right in. Alons-y, and all that.

Paterson Joseph: if you want a Master who embodies the aristocratic tendencies of the classic portrayals, Joseph is more than capable of being both officious and supercilious. He’s also, of course, a Who alum; he was in the first series of the reboot back in 2005, and (depending on who you believe) was a candidate to play the Doctor themselves at one point. He can definitely do funny (see Green Wing, et al) but Wonka showed just how theatrically camp he can be when he twirls his moustache manically.

Mena Massoud: Joseph is basically twice the age of Ncuti Gatwa; often the Master is of comparable age to the Doctor. As a young person of colour, Massoud would be a good counterpoint to Gatwa. He’s also proven himself theatrically, as the lead in Disney’s Aladdin; bringing this energy to his performance would further allow for some cool counterpoints between the two.

Nicola Coughlan: of course, the Master has been the Mistress in the past. Time Lords, we know, can swap genders better than the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park. Coughlan, also of a roughly comparable age to Gatwa, would offer a fun, funny riposte to his energy. Also, it’d be nice to see a bit of subtle body diversity in these sorts of roles.

Rhianne Barreto: perhaps one of the least-recognisable names in this list, Barreto’s biggest deal so far is one of the leads in The Outlaws. She’s very telegenic, and is great as a brilliant and capable girl with a mischievous and dangerous streak; channelling that into a more malevolent nature as the Master, coupled with her young charm, would be really cool, especially acting against someone like Gatwa.

Gillian Anderson: okay, moving away from the relative youngsters, if we’re going to have a woman in the role, and we want to age it up a touch, then who would be better than Gillian Anderson? Imagine her naughtiness, her wicked way with language; imagine her interactions with Gatwa’s Doctor, coloured as they would be by their history on Sex Education? If this was the direction you’d want to go, there’s no one better.

Michael Sheen: another alternative for an older Master would be Sheen. He’s got a great history as a camp, officious sort; look at Good Omens. He could inject some evil into that portrayal and be a terrific Master. Alternatively, he can just go full-bore malevolent; his vocal performance as House in, er, Doctor Who is proof of that (he’s kissed one Doctor, tried to kill another; man’s got form in all departments). I’d make him keep his natural accent, mind.

Elliot Page: Doctor Who has always been a progressive show, especially so since its 2005 rebirth. Davies as a writer is keen to champion new voices and show as much representation as possible. We’ve had male and female Time Lords, but it would be fantastic to see the first trans man take the role; especially as Page is a brilliant actor. Most of the roles I’ve seen him in showcase his natural charm and likeability; it would be cool for him to turn those characteristics into something wicked. I can imagine him as coldly evil against Gatwa’s effervescent optimism.

Alan Tudyk: with Page, we’re already channelling Hollywood. Indeed, this era of Who has prior in this regard: Neil Patrick Harris as the Toymaker, and upcoming episodes featuring the likes of Jonathan Groff. Tudyk (who, of course, is in Frozen alongside Groff) is probably exactly the right level of prestige for this; and he’s just brill. A versatile and gifted actor (witness the range of his performances in animation), he’s a natural comic who can bring heart and warmth to any role. But he’s also played the Joker, so he can definitely do pantomimic villainy.

Colman Domingo: alright, we’re starting to veer away from the plausible. Domingo might not be an A-list Hollywood name, but he’s an incredibly successful actor who was nominated for an Oscar this year. I’m not sure they’d get him; I’m not sure he’d want it. Be he’s beyond talented enough for this, and he’s definitely got the wit and the vim to brig the Master to life. Plus, to see two queer Black actors, at different points in life and career, facing off against each other would be magnificent.

Jack Black: and now we go full-bore ridiculous. But imagine it: they’ve got Disney money behind them now. Perhaps they do some kind of event where this iteration of the Master is only in, say, a two-part finale. So you splash out, go for broke, and cast a proper superstar. Black already popped up as a guest in one episode of The Mandalorian; maybe he’d be up for this? But for God’s sake, just imagine it. Imagine him chewing the scenery as a proper baddie. He’d be singing and dancing! He’d make funny little scat sounds! He’d be charming and hilarious, then booming and terrifying! It would be a joy, an absolute joy.

There we are. Ten people. I nearly had Asa Butterworth on the list, but I tried to limit myself to only one Sex Education cast member.

[papaver-decervicatus]

Oh please please please I would LOVE to see those 2015 Maus and Julius drabbles. I’d even be OK with just descriptions of their shenanigans, if you want to keep those in the vault just in case. I love thinking about cod men and especially König in more mundane civilian situations.

Also yessss I am SO excited to hear about their initial impressions on each other. I want to reassure you that even though you kind of left out the initial stage of “I am going to kill that pretty little sniper lady”, their connection was still really believable. I think you pulled it off by making it clear that even though they have their own sort of camaraderie, neither of them can be completely sure the other won’t kill them until the moment Julius catches Maus falling out of the tree. Just chef’s kiss. And I’m a sucker for a “these two freaks are SO IN LOVE” dynamic with König. I eagerly await Maus letting her freak flag fly.

And can I be honest with you? I kind of consider Julius his own person. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I keep calling him by name and not König 😅. He’s still König but he’s also separate from other interpretations of him, you get me? I’m ridiculously invested in him, like—I would also get a Kaiserin. If you ever feel like a weirdo for wanting a replica of a knife that only exists in your oc’s lore, just remember there’s at least one other person who is equally into it 😂

ps. You don’t have to publish this publicly, just wanted to gush a little more 😅 If you ever want to bounce ideas off someone, my DMs are open

Oh my goodness! This was such a treat to come back to after my first day back to my college classes! I may publish them at some point with a very specific distinction between the two, because as you said, it is much more of a civilian affair (including a fake date, dancing at a bonfire, and cutesy stuff like that!) and Mouse is a fully fleshed out OC, with a name, backstory, and specific physical descriptions. I want Cat/Mouse/Den to remain accessible to people who like canon x reader content! More Below

I think the best way to describe Mouse and König in C/M/D vs in the other is to not call them Mouse and König at all, but as their names- Julius and Lucretia. As you mention, Julius and König are essentially two separate men, if not physically then certainly functionally. In those drabbles it's a big deal when he tells Mouse to call him by his first name because he does not like mixing his personal life with his military persona. It takes a lot of vulnerability for him to accept that he doesn't just want to be König to his insertions partner Mouse (she specializes in clandestine insertions and sniping, she's a little architecture nerd!) but he wants to be Julius with Lucretia; which involves the mortifying fear of rejection once she knows what a monster he can be on the field. And for her part, she is equally vulnerable with him as he learns parts of her backstory and why no one, except him, gets to call her by her first name (can you tell I have a complicated relationship with my first name?) What makes Cat/Mouse/Den so fun for me to write is that it's the exact opposite setup. The two meet as König and Mouse on opposite sides of the war, constantly forced apart by fate and circumstance (despite an innate desire to crash into each other.) In the other story (no working title,) the two meet as Leuitennant Jehnnings and Oberleuitennant Doss, forced to work together for a common goal (despite König's assistance he not get attached and Mouse's insistence she makes a friend out of him goddamnit!) In one, a man fears what will come when his admired learns he's a monster, and in the other, a monster is beside himself when his admired turns him back into a man. The stories are fundamentally opposite but the result is the same: they are lowkey stupid about each other because König craves unwavering acceptance from someone who he deems as capable as he is and Mouse craves a ferocious type of loyalty that may just eat her alive due to a life of duty and uncertainty. König is all consumed by the sudden and foreign desire to serve instead of being lonesome or served himself, and Mouse is all consumed by the unusual and fatalistic attraction she has to be seen and sought after (she is a quiet sniper after all, no one looks for her, except him.) Like I said on his HC page, König is basically an OC of mine at this point. Sure I was lured in by a massive, sexy, crazy, murder man, but I am not interested in sexuality without emotional weight (in my own writing, at least...) so he morphed into something more human(ish?) and more workable to me. My König is different than almost everyone's, and as long as some readers enjoy it and I don't put anyone else down, I think that that's a great thing! Personally, I prefer to ask formats because it gives me less anxiety about responding right away (which is very helpful considering how stacked this semester is for me.) I hope this answer was to your satisfaction, friend! (And don't you worry, that flag of hers, it fucking flies alright...) Cura ut veleas~ Caedis!

[threadsun]

Freaking. HELL MAN!!! Okay. OKAY! Literally got me acting like a fool pacing the around the entire house because I literally CAN’T EVEN! Neighbors probably think I’m lookin crazy with all these wild gestures, freaking messing up food sounding like Hein the old wheezy dog from Howl’s Moving Castle, had me shout out a curse in disbelief, literally was just about to walk into the microwave door. Alright, I had to stop writing for a moment because I wound up having a seasoning packet explode on me because I was not functioning right. Why am I telling you that? You can’t tell when I start or stop writing but I DON’T KNOW! In any case, note to self: do not try to do things before reading your messages. AND I STILL HAVEN’T GONE PAST THE BLUE TEXT! Listen, I’m a very animated person because of how much I’ve performed in musical theatre so like, freaking looked like I was doing a whole cabaret show up in here. That went WAY harder than I expected it to be and apparently there are some things I didn’t know I wanted until you said it. So um, yeah, thanks for that! 🥵 Okay so MAYBE I did underestimate you JUST a tiny bit and didn’t think you could get me to react more than before, but each time you’ve been proving me wrong and this one just takes the cake! LISTEN, I’M TRYING to be strong and tough here, but pulling out stunts like that MAKE IT SO HARD 😂 But I’m not giving in yet! NOPE! NOT HAPPENING! NO SIR! I am STRONG! I am CAPABLE of not submitting. Tbh, I don’t even know how to respond back to what you said because every time I look at it, I let out a flustered laugh and my eyes shift away instinctively (*coughandwhatyousaidisalltruesoCOUGHCOUGHCOUGH*) So nope! Totally don’t want to be or go through ALL of those things! No way! 👀

NOICE! Glad to hear I’ve got a chance! 😊 But I’ve gotta respect your professionalism though, it definitely builds self confidence in yourself and your products/services! I used to have the issue of selling myself short and giving away services like readings for free because I didn’t think it was worth anything, plus I wanted to help others. Because I did that though, I ran myself ragged and wound up having to stop. By putting limits like a price or a time limit, it shows that what you have is valuable and takes up your own personal time to do to provide them goods. People wind up respecting you more and you can still take care of yourself. Even though I feel like I didn’t learn much in college, it’s in moments like these that I just go “Okay, maybe I DID learn alittle bit.” Lol!

But yeah, DEFINITELY too bold for Ian. He’s the perfect example of needing to learn to love yourself first before you love another. If he only found himself more deserving of love and took the brave step of cutting ties with toxic people in his life like his mom, maybe he would’ve found more confidence in the type of relationship that he and M/C shared. I’m sure that his route will be all about healing his traumas and self-worth. I’m about to buy all these guys blanket warmers and just bundle them up while watching Disney movies.

AW HELL YESSSSS! Freaking LIVE for stuff like that man! Just having your brain go blank every time he uses a trigger phrase and a dopey smile lands on your face. My brain keeps going ultra subby mode thinking about all the ways this could go. BRRRRRR. Phantom of the Opera creates hypnosis kinks? No wayyyy! Mirror scene where Christine gets hypnotized and her makeup turns all sultry the whole next scene with a dreamy expression? Gerald Butler? PSSH! No one finds THAT incredibly hot, no! 👀 And then SDJ is loosely BASED off of said Broadway show/book/movie? Ain’t no way someone’s who’s dream was to play Christine Daae since Nursery school and would involve her entire life on getting that role would EVER love a game like this! Oh, and Jack’s supposed to be the Phantom? The sexiest guy in the movie but also the most freaking deranged? BOI. POTO was my yandere gateway, I swear 😂

Anyways! Fireman AU! But yeah, it’s so weird how one moment sunshine is just talking normally, but the next they’re drooling all over themselves and- wait did they just moan out Jack’s name? They’re begging to be pounded into oblivion? Well, the firehouse can’t let down their favorite pet, can they? So they’ll be more than happy to oblige! “Sunshine, if you keep drooling like that, you’re going to make everyone believe you can’t live another day without my love filling you up~! Don’t you know how dangerous that is sunspot? You don’t even know how much I’d love to make you mine in front of everyone, but that’s okay! Puppies like you are GREAT learners, so I’m sure you’ll figure it out in no time!” M/C is just a blushing, incoherent puddle at that point between the triggers and the copious amounts of touching. NOM NOM NOM, I could eat hypnokink ALL DAY EVERY DAY!!! OOO! I can’t even imagine the types of punishments they’d receive!

YA GOT THIS!!! But I’ll get my tombstone ready. RIP me when it does come out 😂 YUS! Like Jasmine or white orchid or something for Ian. I honestly don’t think that Alan would have any type of super woodsy smell on him, he’d be just straight CAMPFIRE with some kind of grass mixed in. Literally just laid down on the ground and that’s his scent 😂

OO OO OO! Sounding like a monkey over here lol, but that sounds like FUN! I’m curious at how far I’d be able to go since I love the heat normally (ice cubes feel SOOOO freaking good)! But that massage oil sounds aMAZING too! GOD, I love kinks! There’s so much fun things you can do and just that rush of dopamine. UGH! Love it! There’s a sex shop downtown where I’m at that has a floor dedicated to kinky items and I felt like a kid at a candy store lol. Sadly, I’ve never got to do much since my last relationship was long distance for years until we moved in together for a bit and had no privacy so we didn’t get to do much. Plus my drive is fiendishly high while his was a lot lower so we didn’t match up well in that aspect, but it’s okay! But I remember talking a lot about what I would get the moment I had the chance! (*coughgotropesbutnevergottousethemcough*) In any case, you got me curious, what’s the sensations with electricity? I know for me, I’m scared of being shocked by static electricity during the winter so I’ve never considered it, but I’m sucker for trying new things soooo 😗

Oh thank goodness!!! I got scared for a moment there! Anxiety and people pleasing tendencies got my heart racing like a mad man lol! I gotcha though and I’m glad you’re having as much fun as I am~😉 Also tell Moon that I’m eating up that whole discussion over on their blog! I normally pop on over because I love their writing too, but I saw how they’re discussing how certain parts of the fandom were acting ridiculous between the audio and Nick’s design and I was just like “YES! GO OFF!” 👏 😂 D’Awwww! \(//∇//)\ I got da SMOOCHES! Thank you Sun for trusting me to speak up and reassuring me that it’s all good 🩵 But noooooo, I’m not too neeeeeedy~! I’m a STRONG woman and I ain’t kneeling down to any dom! 😜

-🎃

It's cute, how easily flustered you get from just a few words~ And to think, you thought you knew what you were getting into? But as I said, you just need to meet a proper dom who knows you better than you know yourself. Who'll open your eyes to all those filthy little kinks you've been pretending not to notice. Someone who can tell that you want to be a helpless princess reduced to nothing more than a desperate whore, so eager for the approval of her dom that she'll accept any punishment and thank them for it.

Exactly, Ian needs to learn to love himself and also learn to trust mc to tell him how they feel. He's just got a whole boatload of trauma to work through and unlearn, and I hope his route is us getting to help him with that, because he deserves it!!

God yeah Phantom is sooooooo good for hypnokink~ Everything about Music of the Night is just 😘👌 perfect! Jack would definitely be the one to hypnotise you into becoming the perfect pet for the whole fire station crew. He'd scramble your brain so much, you'd truly believe you were a dog with no purpose other than to please them. He'd have you getting desperate and horny the moment you heard his voice. Hypnokink Jack is divine!!

Oooh Jasmine is a nice one for Ian!! Alan definitely smells like he took a nap in the grass next to a campfire. Man's just smoky and grassy and definitely hasn't showered in weeks.

Kinks are so fun!!! My first few introductions to kink were... not ideal. But when I got back into it at 18, it was with friends that I trusted and properly organised community events and stuff which was much better!! And now I've been in it for years and have dedicated my career to it :3c I feel very lucky that I get to do that tbh, it's not the most lucrative thing but it's fun and fulfilling!!

As for electricity, hmmmm... depends on what you're using and the voltage. A tens unit, for example, is kinda just tingly and buzzy because the pads are directly on your skin. Though if you turn it up enough, it'll also make your muscles tense/twitchy which can be fun if you're safe about it. A violet wand, on the other hand, doesn't actually touch the skin and instead creates sparks between the wand and your skin. So that feels a little more like a sharp, stinging pain. Almost like the world's tiniest, thinnest whip. It can also leave a tingly feeling afterwards if it's a higher voltage. But yeah, really depends on the type of electricity. A shock collar sometimes makes your blood feel like it's fizzing/bubbly and it's definitely a much harder (and less safe) form of estim. But violet wands, which is what most people think of when they think of electricity play, are mostly just delightfully sharp pain~

Don't worry, I'm very direct! I don't vaguepost, and if I did then I'd be like "this IS a vaguepost" in the tags lmao I'm not good at subtlety. Rest assured, though, I'm having plenty of fun~ And Moon said they're glad people have been taking it well!! We both feel strongly about the way people have been treating Sauce and the team, so it's good to know it really is just a vocal minority who are entitled bullies. Of course smooches!! Smooches for a strong, capable woman who just so happens to want to be forced onto her knees and used~

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Boys in Love Masterlist

can we close the space between us now? (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/calum T, 2k

Summary: “Whatcha doing on the floor?” Calum asks, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, closest to Luke’s face.

Luke’s eyes slip shut again, hiding the pale baby blue from the warm yellow light of their lamp. He looks calm, floating on the sea of their rug, waiting for a current to take him away. He shrugs, motion pushing his bleached curls away from their resting spot pillowed around his head.

“Just hanging out.”

desperation (my chest hurts) (ao3) - retromalum michael/calum G, 4k

Summary: Desperation. That’s all Michael can taste in this kiss. It’s written all over his mouth in his messy handwriting, it’s obvious in the way his tongue props at his own mouth. Kissing Calum after so long is like coming back home after a long day, except for the fact that he hasn’t seen him in over four years. And he’s all the same.

or

The one where Calum chooses football over music and leaves the rest of the boys on their own. They fall apart.

Down Time (ao3) - boomercal calum/ashton N/R, 1k

Summary: Stressed out from tour the boys have a little bit of down time together

Gravity Is Pulling Me (ao3) - lukeinallhisglory luke/calum E, 1k

Summary: Pushed up against the door, hands on bare skin, is still not close enough for Calum. (Or Calum really really loves Luke)

I Don't Need It To Be Easy, I Need It To Be Worth It (ao3) - orphan_account michael/calum, luke/ashton M, 18k

Summary: *The blond one chuckles without humour, “Alright, you wanna play dumb, fine. But don’t go anywhere near my mum again, got it?”

Now, Calum is starting to get angry too, “Who the fuck do you think you are? I'll hang out with who I want, I’m not gonna let a wanna be Billie Joe Armstrong dictate my life.”

Michael is smirking now, “Cute insult,” he says mockingly. “I wonder how clever you have to be to come up with this, what a sass genius.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re just proving my point,” says the blond one.*

After making the resolution of becoming more athletic, Calum decides to take up yoga class. There, he meets Karen, a rich white L.A yoga mum, who's also a very happy and sweet lady who keeps invating him to the most exclusively rich people events.

One day, he meets her son: Michael. This guy couldn't be more different from his mum; he wears dark clothes, dark make-up, and he's rude.

Another issue: Michael seems to hate Calum, and wants him to stay away from Karen, and Calum isn't sure why...

i'd send a postcard to you, dear ('cause i wish you were here) (ao3) - bellawritess michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: Dear Calum, My mum suggested I write you a letter because of the whole data thing in Brazil. I don’t know what that really means but apparently calling would be extremely expensive so I’m doing this now. Maybe it’s weird. Don’t really care. Deal with it.

i won't hurt you (ao3) - yourinternetkid ot4 N/R, 26k

Summary: in which ashton is a normal guy, in a normal bar, doing normal drunk things, luke is siren, michael and calum are oblivious, and they have a crazy run in with a witch and a faerie that changes everything.

laser tag (ao3) - inanearlieround michael/luke N/R, 1k

Summary: Luke takes Michael somewhere else after an interview trying to figure out how to break through to him.

Let Me Love You (ao3) - mxrytx ot4 N/R, 5k

Summary: The four of them were picture perfect. The cheer captain, football captain, drum major, and choir student director. Michael always put himself last, even if it wore him to the bone. Between being in charge of his school band, and loving his boyfriends, will he learn to let his boyfriends in, and help himself too? Or will he stay silent until it’s too late?

or: the fic where Michael needs to learn to let his boyfriends take care of him

Nobody Gonna Love Me Better (ao3) - universalstark luke/ashton E, 1k

Summary: Luke just wants to show Ashton he’s capable of anything, anytime.

No Chance (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) michael/luke, calum/ashton T, 72k

Summary: So Ashton's going on a road trip with his friend, Calum, and he invited me to tag along. Being the adventurous shit I am, I said yes, but I wouldn't have if I knew that Luke Hemmings was going as well. God, I hate that guy, and the feeling's mutual. Why does that annoying brat have to come along? And Ashton and Calum expect us to be friends? Yeah, right. There's no chance that Luke Hemmings and I, Michael Clifford, are ever going to get along.

Sk8tEr Bo¥s (ao3) - walking_crisis69 michael/luke T, 1k

Summary: just two little skateboarding punks and some stories about them

The Reasons Behind Your Doubts (ao3) - lookingforhope michael/luke T, 4k

Summary: Michael doesn’t know what his next hairstyle should be. Luke helps him see that the causes of his doubts are not the healthiest ones.

through the mirror (ao3) - yourinternetkid calum/ashton, michael/luke, harry/louis N/R, 12k

Summary: In which Ashton is a normal guy with a cursed mirror and Calum just wants to hold his hand.

Tree House (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) michael/luke, michael/calum T, 21k

Summary: Michael and Luke have been best friends for many years and their secret meeting place is the tree house in the middle of the woods, because it was where they first met each other.

We sang along to the start of forever (ao3) - CalmCake luke/calum M, 11k

Summary: So yeah, he and Calum were touchy and people assumed things that involved Luke facing things he wasn’t ready to. That was fine, things were fine. Until it wasn't and everything came to a head.

Or;

Calum wears a skirt and Luke is weak.

Words Have Two Meanings (ao3) - fourdrunksluts luke/ashton N/R, 22k

Summary: In a world where your soulmate is determined by their favorite song, people have gone, and continue to go, to extreme lengths to find their other half. Luke is certain Ashton's his soulmate - even if every sign in the universe is telling him no. 

You shine, (my) blanket burrito (ao3) - Lityria michael/luke G, 1k

Summary: Michael had always been fascinated with Luke. There was a special aura around the blonde that had captivated him from the start.

[sapporo-division]

“No, no, no, no…..”

“Yes…perhaps it is what it is”

“Looks like we’re Japan’s wanted criminals, folks~”

“I-Iwao-san, p-please, this isn’t something to laugh about. M-my name… it was on the d-deadpool list and I-I’ve never done anything wrong in my whole life! D-did I just get isekai’d into One Piece and become a w-wanted criminal? W-WHY DO I DESERVE THIS B-BAD LUCK?! I-I don’t want to be a bounty target!”

“Compose yourself, Yoichi-kun. Frankly, having 10 thousand dollars isn’t that significant.”

“W-well, what about you… I mean, you’re, um, at least worth 6 million and Iwao-san is worth 7 million. You two are, um, really the most targeted people besides me, that others will, uh, look at. D-don’t you worry that something… something really bad could happen if someone tries to, um, hurt you for money?”

“I’m not concerned. I am more than capable of dealing with anyone who openly targeting me. If I chose to, I could easily leverage my resources and influence to castigate those insolent enough to waste my valuable time with such futile efforts to kidnap or threatening me”

“I almost forgot Yuki-san is rich enough to do that….glad that I’m on his team”

“I’d probably just stash all my stuff at home and then disappear into a cozy little hideaway until their curiosity fizzles out! Who needs the drama when you can have peace and quiet?”

“That means you would become a missing person….”

“But if anything happens to you and your family, we’ll be sure to help to keep them safe”

“Regard to this matter, I was never informed by my mother about the so-called ‘deadpool’ list and I regret to admit that I was included in it. Likely due to my connection as the son of a Chuokhu officer, my mother. I’m uncertain of their reasoning but I sincerely apologize for inadvertently involving both of you”

“No need for apologies, Yuki-san. You’re not the only one who thinks we’re upset. Just look at this list—everyone from different divisions is in on the fun! and can we talk about this Ace Douglas character? I hear he’s some big-shot American ambassador but his bounty is a mere 0.08 dollars! I mean, how amusing is that? but I almost feel bad for him”

“Indeed, I noticed Tomi Chōten’s name as well and it’s no surprise, given his net worth of five hundred million dollars and his background and high-class reputation aside, I can’t help but wonder if that scandal played a role in him securing such a substantial bonus. Still, it’s wiser to remain discreet and avoid stirring up unnecessary trouble when I find myself in the presence of him or his ex-wife.”

“I must admit, I’m rather surprised you received a bid one million higher than mine, Iwao-kun. Enlighten me—how exactly did the Party of Words grant you such a high offer in a profession as mediocre as yours?”

“Well you know, perhaps it’s my dazzling fame that draws both friends and foes alike, captivated by the spectacular magic I conjure. Teehee~ Isn’t it delightful?”

“S-seriously?….”

“Please be honest with me. It seems there may be something you haven’t disclosed to us. Based on the results, it’s likely that some questionable actions were taken in the past.”

“Um, yeah, I’m actually curious to know, too”

“Oh dear, Yuki and Yoichi are starting to doubt their old, trusty friend? OOF, that stings my delicate little heart! But fret not, my dear friends. I’m just a humble street magician dedicated to bringing smiles and spreading joy with my whimsical tricks. I hold no grudges or ill will toward anyone—certainly not you two. You are my most cherished companions in the world to me. If I ever caused you any pain, I’d have vanished from this merry little group we have, wouldn’t I?”

“…..if you say so”

“Oh, um, I-I see. We’re really sorry for doubting you, Iwao-san. W-We also think of you as our friend…”

“Ah, accepted with a flourish! I see you two are swimming in doubt. Just like me, Yuki-san, I often ponder how I stumbled upon this delightful fame. Yet, it does tickle my fancy to think I might just deserve it. Fufu~!”

“You should be utterly flabbergasted! There are more folks out there with bids that soar higher than…..”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Um, w-what are you two looking at?”

(Goodness gracious! That red-eyed maniac has made the list now?! What a twist!)

(So, Scourger’s real name is revealed, then. I wonder how that reckless young man plans to deal with it. Even without Yoichi aware of his alter ego, the situation would already be precarious for him to manage)

“Oh just a little name-sleuthing! but wait—how about we spice things up and grab a bite somewhere new? My treat, of course!”

“There’s no need to be overly considerate. I insist on treating both of you to a nice dinner. I have a place in mind where we can enjoy a more refined experience.”

“Um, n-no! You really don’t have to do that for us, Yuki-san. A-and, um, why have you two been so nice? W-wait! D-don’t pull me so hard, Iwao-san!”

Time-skipped to evening:

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m only worth 50,000 dollars?…”

“What a joke. I should be worth a hell of a lot more than that. Those idiots have no clue how dangerous I am”

“Shit…..I need a human punching bag. I’d love to just lurk and wait for those bastards to come at me so I can beat the living hell out of them”

“But seriously, how the fuck did my name get out there? did someone found out who I am? Ugh, this is just pissing me off more and more. Guess I’ll just have to go on a little hunt to clear my mind”

Division Rap Battle Dead Pool

Do not ask me what this is and why I am posting it, this is yet another product of the insanity that goes on in our 18+ discord server

Credit to @toyama-division / @suginami-division for the idea! 😈

It’s no surprise that with the formation of the Division Rap Battles by the Japanese Government (also known as Chuohku), many teams have been formed either through coercion or by their own volition, with those teams come many high profile people or very prolific celebrities both old and young. As such, a betting ring was formed, by who? Well, no one knows, it could be from criminals to politicians to random civilians to even other contestants in the very same tournament, all that matters is that every person in the Division Rap Battles has a bounty on their head, this is a list of how much they’re apparently worth.

As for the reason why? Figure it out yourself.

Ace Douglas: $0.08

Asato Rikiya: $100

Kyō Sakuma: $100

“Sen”: $100

Criss Hiromi: $500

Ishihara Daisuke: $1,000

Asahi Tomoharu: $1,000

Takumi Wakaba: $2,000

Ryuunosuke Sekiguchi: $2,000

Azusa Furukawa: $5,000

Naoki Hamasaki: $5,000

Teijo Masakazu: $8,000

Yoichi Shujo: $10,000

Fleuret Oshiro: $15,000

Kai Quinlan: $20,000

Mireya Quinlan: $30,000

“Ruichi”: $50,000

Eldrid Iwasaki: $50,000

Zakari Hiroya: $100,000

Ming Kawanoe: $100,000

Ryuko Umemoto: $350,000

Wataru Sasaki: $400,000

Oki Teagan: $500,000

Tasuku Kawanoe: $500,000

Kisouna Yuzairu: $500,000

Ayumu Hayami: $500,000

Kokomi Morozov: $500,000

Keiko Yumi: $600,000

Miku Shirazuki: $700,000

Maki Umemoto: $750,000

Joey Kurusu: $900,000

Aranai Norikoru: $1,000,000

Jack Verrill: $1,000,000

Daiki Kamiyama: $1,000,000

Queen Card: $1,000,000

Lyall Shiba: $1,000,000

Shuu Edogawa: $1,000,000

Nikki Yoshie: $1,000,000

Yano Ietsuna: $1,000,000

Shisuta Heisha: $1,000,000

Luis Kōkyū: $2,000,000

Seiji Tsukimoto: $2,000,000

Evelyn Rose: $2,000,000

Aika Yumi: $2,000,000

Shian Meizono: $2,000,000

Kureha Koizumi: $2,000,000

Ren Nakashima: $2,000,000

Miho Kobayashi: $3,000,000

Rashaad Young: $3,000,000

Meari Miracle: $3,000,000

Ted Bridges: $3,000,000

Chinami Chinen: $3,000,000

Diêu Hoàng: $4,000,000

Juu Judice: $4,000,000

“Ageha Shinozaki”: $4,000,000

Kensaku Morimoto: $4,000,000

Eiji Noguchi: $4,000,000

Sakura Kito: $5,000,000

Hisoka Tetsumatsu: $5,000,000

Kanra Akemi: $5,000,000

Mina Nakayama: $5,000,000

Elliot Shimizu: $5,000,000

Sanyu Inouye: $5,000,000

Kira Chinen: $5,000,000

Sayaka Miyuki: $5,000,000

Yuuya Kanata: $5,000,000

Kotan Anchikar: $5,000,000

Karada Kessaku: $6,000,000

Yorii Sakuma: $6,000,000

Saigo Fuyugami: $6,000,000

Yuki Kuraokami: $6,000,000

Kaiji Sano: $6,000,000

Makina Setsukura: $6,000,000

Masa Judice: $7,000,000

Ivelisse Martinez: $7,000,000

Taria Chinen: $7,000,000

Iwao Masuda: $7,000,000

Lola Takahashi: $7,000,000

Ritsuko Okada: $8,000,000

Nadya Kuromiya: $8,000,000

Kanon Hojo: $8,000,000

Kotono Ohara: $8,000,000

“Aruto Shinozaki”: $9,000,000

“Masuzō Shinomiya”: $9,000,000

Touya Kisaragi: $9,000,000

“Cinder”: $9,000,000

Max Soukoku: $9,000,000

Sumire Shinomiya: $10,000,000

Kaoru Shinozaki: $10,000,000

Mai Yousei: $10,000,000

Reiaki Suzubayashi: $13,000,000

Rintaro Himura: $15,000,000

Kyler Aaron: $15,000,000

Anika Kiyozaki: $17,000,000

Eko Seishin: $20,000,000

Reika Aichi: $20,000,000

Alexis Ward: $20,000,000

Yuno Kamora: $30,000,000

Ryūzō Mizutori: $40,000,000

Yuriko Kuromiya: $50,000,000

Akihisa Mashiro: $50,000,000

Tomi Chōten: $500,000,000

Wild Shīnu: $7,100

Jigoku Riderz: 9,100

Blade Maiden: $70,000

Private Party: $150,000

Otaku Corps: $1,600,500

Sazanka Zombeez: $2,100,000

Sakurai Clan: $2,500,000

Valor Guard: $3,500,000

Liberty Guild: $5,000,000.08

ECO BooN: $5,000,100

MIHANASA: $5,600,000

Veiled Vanguard: $7,000,000

Kuma no ie: $8,500,000

Miraitabi: $11,001,000

Oculus: $13,000,000

Polar Knights: $13,060,000

Femme Fatale: $14,000,000

R.I.P. Märchen: $14,700,000

Birds of Prey: $15,000,000

Last Judgement: $15,500,000

ENIGMA: $16,000,000

Justice Shield: $16,300,000

Lovesick: $17,000,000

Pixel Syndicate: $25,000,000

CodeX: $30,000,000

Sounds of Silence: $31,000,000

Silent Tragedy: $33,000,000

Kiya Kara: $48,002,000

OverDrive: $60,000,000

Wicked Requiem: $78,000,000

Death Row Block: $83,000,000

Jet Set Trio: $508,000,000

@shinagawa-division @kobedivision @kanazawa-division @uenodivision @aoyama-division @arakawa-division @roppongi-division @edogawa-division @shizuokadivision @katsushika-division @niigata-division @minato-division03 @akihabara-division03 @minato-division01 @akihabaradivision @setagaya-division @taito-division @okinawa-division @hakodate-division @naradivision @naha-division @sapporo-division @oita-division @fukuokadivision1 @sendaidivision @fukuokanodivision @obihiro-division @ota-division @ginza-division

[themculibrary]

Friends To Lovers Masterlist 2

part one

5 Times Ned Gave Peter His Sweatshirt (ao3) - red_to_black ned/peter T, 6k

Summary: Five times Ned Leeds gave Peter his sweatshirt, and one time Peter returned the favour.

(AKA Ned is a dork in love and Peter's a mess but someone has to take care of him. That someone is Ned.)

Dissonance (ao3) - stuckybarnes peter/wade M, 121k

Summary: Wherein Deadpool is reluctantly hired to protect Peter Parker from an organization out to hunt him, with varying success on both ends and quite a lot of feelings, revelations, and identity crises.

For you, bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths (ao3) - danverbarnes steve/bucky, clint/natasha G, 54k

Summary: "god knows what that cat is capable of, he's probably a killing machine!" Steve said, making them both laugh as they looked back to Goose who was tossing a small stuffed fish back and forth playfully between his paws. "And you say my life's not interesting, I'm a babysitter for a lethal killing...." Steve trailed off as he thought, "Yeah? a what?" Bucky pushed him, looking at him with a smile, excitedly. "Flerken" Steve decided. "really" Bucky commented unimpressed, but Steve turned back to rescue some more toast, nodding to himself, "Yep, Flerken" he said, proud of himself. They spent the rest of the day lounging around, Goose seemed to settle in right away, Bucky enjoying playing with him and softly stroking his head when he fell asleep on his lap.

Happily (ao3) - 19harmony yelena/kate T, 130k

Summary: Russian Operations Specialist Yelena Romanoff learns that she may face deportation from the U.S. because her visa renewal application was denied. Determined to retain her job, she convinces her assistant to temporarily act as her fiancé.

Proposal AU

Heart in My Hand (ao3) - roane steve/sam E, 6k

Summary: They had rules in place for a reason. The world around them has gone mad and Steve isn't sure of his place in it. They have a brainwashed assassin to catch and Sam's still healing from grief of his own. It's the worst possible time to fall in love, but Steve has always had a bad relationship with time and with timing.

I Think I Missed a Step ('Cause I'm Fallin' For You) (ao3) - mokuyoubi peter/wade, steve/bucky E, 42k

Summary: There’s a weird familiarity about the kid's tone and posture, and it’s true that Wade is pretty far from home today but he’s also certain he’d remember that baby-face if he’d seen it before. On the other hand, he has spent the better part of the past few years feeling like he’s missed a step, so this conversation isn’t exactly anything new. [[A hot guy is willingly talking to us. Go with it.]] [Don’t make an ass of yourself.] “Shaddup,” Wade grumbles, though Yellow has a point...

OR Peter thinks Wade knows his secret identity, and Wade is really confused by the hot coed who keeps popping up and hanging out with him.

One Caress (ao3) - fuck_me_barnes steve/bucky E, 26k

Summary: Steve's rarely been touched in a way that didn't equate to some kind of hurt. The cold metal of a stethoscope against his frail chest or the sting of a needle drawing yet another blood sample, when he was a sickly child. The bone-shattering punches thrown by the neighborhood bullies on the playground, or by his own father at home, drunk and wild. His mother, weak and clutching at him as she grew more incoherent with the drugs as the cancer ate away at her insides. Touch was something he shied away from, something he told himself he just didn't want.

Except...he did. He just didn't know how.

Until he finds a flyer for a local "affection and intimacy services" program.

In which Steve learns how to become comfortable with touch, and there is one very good dog, and a slow-burn romance.

Philophilia (ao3) - second_skin clint/phil M, 4k

Summary: Phil and Clint go to the beach. It's basically a hostage situation. Backstory. Takes place a couple of years before the Avengers assembled.

Sharpen Your Teeth (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony M, 369k

Summary: A betrayed Tony Stark leaves the Avengers. He's angry and bitter but he's not about to stop being a hero. The problem is that not everyone is happy with his decision.

Slow Work (ao3) - lorata steve/bucky T, 81k

Summary: It's 2011, men are allowed to marry, and Bucky is dead.

The future isn't all that's strange. Together in peacetime for the first time since before Steve took the serum, Steve and Bucky struggle to find their place -- and each other -- in the middle of a new millennium, new bodies, and new dynamics.

Or, just because you wake up in a century where everything you've repressed is magically okay, that doesn't make it easy.

Soulbound With Benefits (ao3) - schifaroo clint/phil E, 13k

Summary: Clint has been in love with Phil since before they started casually sleeping together. So far, he's pretty sure he's done a good job hiding his real feelings. He's not so sure how he's supposed to keep that up, though, now that they’re telepathically bonded.

Such Sweet Revenge (ao3) - ali_aliska bucky/tony M, 167k

Summary: When the Rogues are back in the States after being pardoned, the New Avengers want nothing to do with them and as far as Tony is concerned, if he never speaks to them again, it'll be too soon. After all, he didn't spend the last year putting himself (and his family) back together only for his former co-workers to ruin all of his hard work.

But then he gets a hand-written letter from the Winter Soldier himself, apologizing for the events that transpired and an off-handed comment from Rhodey about Rogers failing to take care of an obviously miserable Bucky Barnes sets in motion Tony's new, oh-so-evil plan to get some payback.

After all, what better revenge than to steal the Winter Soldier away from his best friend?

The only problem: Tony sucks at being vengeful, but apparently he's an expert at inadvertently falling in love.

They’ve All Gone to Look for America (ao3) - longwhitecoats steve/sam M, 26k

Summary: In which Steve and Sam go on a road trip across America, see the sights, learn about mixtapes, make surprising friends, and fall in love a little.

We always know (ao3) - bangyababy steve/bucky, bucky/thor M, 32k

Summary: Steve and Bucky were best friends until middle school when Steve overheard Bucky saying it was weird he didn’t talk. Soon after, Bucky moved away and they never spoke again. Almost fifteen years later, they've somehow managed to become roommates.

whatever souls are made of (ao3) - atypicalsnowman tony/stephen M, 320k

Summary: Soul bonding canon divergence. Fourteen million futures and Stephen saw just one where they win. Tony has to soul bond to a virtual stranger whereas Stephen... Stephen is in love.

This is a story of how two broken men became friends, then family, then fell in love.

And saved the universe.

Worlds Collide (ao3) - SugarFey clint/natasha E, 13k

Summary: Their worlds collided when they met, so they rebuilt a world together.

[elliescript]

sweet music (playing in the dark)

summary/genre: In a world with so much darkness, you were the light in Ellie's life. Also, you go foraging. Fluff.

wc: 2.3k

warnings: literally none it's just flirting and being in love. inspired by almost (sweet music) by hozier

a/n: my first post on this blog :) just wanted to write something soft for ellie, idk what this really is! lol

____

For most people, the post-apocalyptic world acted as a catalyst in changing who they are. It hardened people, made them untrusting and guarded. Many were shadows of who they used to be, and those born into this desolate world never had the chance to become who they would’ve been. Sometimes it felt like joy had disappeared all those years ago when the infection took over. 

And yet, when Ellie looked at you, it was like joy had been here all this time. 

You were the antithesis of all the depravity, all the misery. In the ways others became wary, you were curious. They were callous, you were compassionate. They were indifferent, and you looked at everything with wonder still sparkling in your bright eyes. When you came into Ellie’s life, she was hesitant at first. How could someone see the horrors of this world, and act like that? Soon, though, she began to understand you. It wasn’t that you were oblivious to reality, not at all. Rather, you stared down the face of reality every single day and chose to live happily anyway. 

“Ellie!” you sing-songed, peeking your head through her door, smiling wide. “Are you almost ready?” 

“Mm, is someone a little impatient?” Ellie glanced over her shoulder and gave you a little smirk. Your lips had formed a pout, and your slanted eyebrows completed the petulant expression. Ellie chuckled, “Yes, I’m almost done.” 

You sighed and walked up to her, wrapping your arms around her waist. You rested your head against her shoulder and burrowed your nose in playfully. “`m just excited.”

Ellie turned and took you into her arms, reaching up and squeezing one of your cheeks between her thumb and index finger. “I know. My pouty baby.” She gestured to her backpack on the bed.  “I just finished packing. Gonna go change and then we can go?” 

You dipped your chin in agreement and gave her a squeeze. “Dress sexy for me, okay?” 

Ellie laughed as she released you. “Will do.” 

You waited patiently on her bed, swaying your legs, while she changed and freshened up in the bathroom. Finally, she emerged wearing a white t-shirt, light wash denim jeans, and your favorite forest-green flannel (that she had rolled up to her elbows, making you swoon even harder) that brought out the red in her hair. You felt the heat rush to your cheeks involuntarily. 

“Sexy enough for you?” Ellie teased, holding her arms out and gesturing to herself. 

You pursed your lips. “Too sexy, actually. I think we should probably just stay home.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes and tossed her bag on her back. You watched her diligently lace up her dark brown utility boots before she straightened back up and took your hand into hers. “Don’t worry. I’m all yours.” 

It was a cool, vibrant spring day outside. The sun leaked through fat, white clouds, keeping the air comfortably warm as you two walked towards the stables. The sound of a mirthful chickadee greeted you, causing you to mimic the sound. Ellie laughed, then tried to copy the trill herself. 

“That’s not it at all!” you exclaimed through giggles. 

“What! I sound just like it!” 

You continued bickering about Ellie’s birdsong capabilities as the two of you loaded your packs into the saddlebags and mounted Shimmer. You melded your body to your girlfriend’s back, resting your arms around her waist as normal. There were few joys greater than riding with Ellie on pleasant days like this, in your opinion. 

Today, she was taking you out to forage in one of the nearby forests. Not that the Jackson didn’t supply all your food needs. A few weeks ago, Ellie had found a book on foraging based in Wyoming on one of her patrols and brought it back to you, knowing how much you’d love it. Which you did, literally squealing when she presented it to you. You begged her to take you out to forage once there was a nice day, and because she was so tightly wound around your finger, she had organized the trip. 

You knew how hard it was for her to do this, since you did not leave the safety of Jackson often. While Ellie was always eager to take up patrols, you often spent your time working in the bakery, or helping tend to gardens. Sure, you knew your way around a gun, but you avoided violence the most you could. Which meant you were out of practice, and definitely not up to Ellie’s standards of self-defense. She was fiercely protective, constantly worried something would happen to you. You understood her reservations. Living without each other would not be an option. 

You closed your eyes and let the sun warm your face, humming softly. You knew you were outside the city now from how quiet it was. Only the sound of birds and insects surrounded you. Sighing, you opened your eyes and took in the lively green of the freshly-grown forest. It had been such a long winter, full of heavy snow and below freezing temperatures. To finally see green was a welcome sight. 

“It’s so pretty,” you muttered. 

Ellie hummed in agreement, taking a hand off the reins and laying it atop the conjoinment of yours. The two of you continued riding for a while longer, and you suddenly thought of how this had been the farthest you had been from Jackson in a long while. When you voiced this to Ellie, she gripped your hands tighter. “Don’t remind me,” she said in a light tone. You knew she was trying to be casual about it, but the idea clearly disturbed her. 

Yet, she kept leading Shimmer along until she spotted her pre-scouted destination. “Here we are.” 

You almost gasped at the sight. Ellie had found a stretch of forest that hosted a wide, rock-filled creek and plentiful fallen logs overgrown with fuzzy moss. Spread across the forest floor were tiny clusters of grassy clearings, sprouting colorful wildflowers. You spotted an orange butterfly fluttering between the petals and gripped Ellie’s upper arm in excitement. 

“Ellie,” you breathed. “This is perfect.” 

Ellie felt the pit of her stomach flutter from your comment. To her, making you happy was one of her only purposes, so to hear your delight was gratifying. She relished the feeling as she slid off her horse and reached up to you. “Is my baby ready to explore?” 

Eagerly, you leaned into Ellie’s helping hands and practically bounced once your feet hit the soil below you. “You know it!” You two pulled on your backpacks, but not before you took out the foraging book. You flipped through the pages while Ellie tied off Shimmer. Finally, you landed on the section detailing the wild berries found in the area. “First…we find a snack.” 

You two slowly walked down through the forest’s underbrush, keeping an eye out for any strange sounds or movement as you inspected the surrounding vegetation. The excitement of being outside the walls of Jackson made it difficult for you to pay attention. Everything was familiar, sure, but you were so used to your little community that this forest seemed like a whole new world. You swore you hadn’t even seen half of these plants before. 

“Ah-ha! Found somethin’!” Ellie crouched and pointed to a shrub with dark purple berry clusters. You squatted beside her and flipped through the book until landing on a page showing the exact same plant. 

“These are…whitestem gooseberries!” You used a finger to track the words as you read them aloud. “They are dark purple, almost black berries that are found in most mountain ranges in Wyoming. They typically grow in moist areas at the mid to high elevation.” 

Ellie nodded. “Cool…cool…but can I eat one?” 

You huffed. “I was trying to teach you something!” Ellie gave you a sheepish look, to which you rolled your eyes, “Okay, fine. It says they are non-poisonous and actually very tasty.”

“Hell yeah!” Ellie plucked a cluster off and popped a berry into her mouth. She gave a little moan. “These are fuckin’ delicious.” 

You giggled as she pushed one against your lips. Opening your mouth, you let her slide her fingers in and place the plump berry on your tongue. The berry popped as you bit down, the juices sweet. “Very delicious,” you agreed, not taking your eyes away from Ellie’s throughout the whole interaction. 

“Mmm,” Ellie hummed, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I can think of something even sweeter.” 

Warmth rushed up your neck. You leaned your cheek into her open palm and reached out to her waist. Looping your fingers into one of her belt loops, you pulled her closer until your hips touched. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Ellie breathed out, cupping both of your cheeks and leading your lips to hers. 

Kissing Ellie was never a casual event. It was always exciting, all-encompassing. Each time, your stomach sank with desire and your heart just as affected as it raced wildly. This kiss, soft and hungry, was no exception. Surrounded by the flourishing growth of the forest, the kiss felt like a rebirth. 

You sighed against your girlfriend’s lips. “I could kiss you forever.” 

“Me too,” she whispered back, pulling your lips back into hers softly. The two of you continued for a few moments, lost in the taste of each other. Ellie barely heard the sound coming from behind you, she was so absorbed in your touch. She abruptly pulled away, to your confusion, shoving your body behind hers and reaching for the gun holstered to her hip. 

“El-” 

She shushed you gently, holding one arm out and behind her to keep you shielded. The rustling was loud, and close. Yet, Ellie couldn’t see anything. Her heart was hammering in her chest, cursing herself for thinking it would be safe to bring you out here. Was it a stalker, hiding behind the dense trees? Or a raider, waiting to kill them for loot? The sound grew closer, and Ellie held her gun out forcefully. She took a few steps back, trying her best to get the two of you back to Shimmer without incident. 

“Wait-” Ellie cut you off again with a shush. You reached out to grip her bicep and get her attention. “Ellie. Look.” Ellie followed your pointed finger down to the ground. Beneath the shade of a large bush sat a fat ball of orange fur.

A cat. 

Speechless, Ellie lowered her gun. Heat rushed to her cheeks as you crouched down by the creature. It didn’t seem afraid of you, and even allowed you to run your hand through its fluffy mane. “Hi there, cutie,” you cooed, scratching your fingers below its chin. “You scared my girlfriend, you know.” 

“It did not,” Ellie huffed, crossing her arms. She glared at the cat. 

“She almost shot you, killer.” 

“I wasn’t going to shoot the cat!” Ellie exclaimed. You laughed and stood back up, approaching your pouting girlfriend. 

“I know.” You gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for protecting me.” 

Ellie blushed and dragged the toe of her boot in the dirt haphazardly. “Just doin’ my job.” 

You gave her a smile. The cat was now weaving between your legs, bumping its head affectionately against your calves as it passed through. An idea popped into your head. With the widest, most innocent eyes you could muster, you locked eyes with your girlfriend. “Ellie…” 

“Hmm?” she answered, obviously still embarrassed by the whole event. 

“What if we-”

“We are not taking that cat home.” 

“But Ellie!” 

“No, no way.”

You gave her a pleading look. “Please,” you begged, drawing out the word. 

“You are not breaking me.” 

——

That night, you snuggled deep beneath the comforter on Ellie’s bed. The window was open, the spring air cooling the room and bringing the scent of a nearby bonfire. You yawned, watching as Ellie stripped into her regular night attire, a t-shirt and boxers. She approached the side of the bed and stared down at you. 

“Ahem” 

You gave her a smile. “Yes, my love?”

“It’s in my spot.” 

You glanced over at the curled-up orange cat, asleep on Ellie’s side of the bed. “I can’t wake him. Look how cute.” 

“Babe!” she whined. 

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes and gently pulled the sleeping creature closer to you so Ellie could slip into her normal spot. 

“I can’t even cuddle you with him in the way.” Ellie gestured to the cat between the two of you. 

You pursed your lips and ran your fingers through the cat’s soft fur. “Any other quarrels you have with Mr. Pumpkin?” 

“That is not his name.” 

“Yes it is. It’s perfect!” 

“I can put up with adopting a cat, but I draw the line at naming him Mr. Pumpkin.” 

The next morning, you awoke to the sound of the front door closing. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up and saw Ellie carrying a cardboard box. You quirked an eyebrow up. “What’s that?” 

Ellie sat the box on the floor and began unpacking its contents. “Supplies.” She pulled out a wooden box full of wood shavings. “Thought this could work as a litter box. Since there’s no way to get litter, really. Maria said the shavings would work.” She then pulled out a few well-loved baby toys and placed them on the bed beside you. “These were gonna go in the trash anyway. Thought the little bastard would like them” 

“Aw! Ellie, that’s adorable!” You picked up the small stuffed bird. “He’ll love these!” 

“Whatever,” she grumbled. 

You pointed to the last items in the box. “What are those?”

 “Nothing.” 

You leaned towards the edge of the bed. “Let me see!” 

“Y/N, no-” 

You reached into the box and pulled out two small plastic bowls, obviously meant to be used as the cat’s food and water dish. On both, in messy letters of freshly dried paint, read ‘Mr. Pumpkin’. You looked up at Ellie with a grin. 

She glared at you and snatched the bowls back. “Not a word, Y/N. Not. A. Word.”