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mulders-too-large-shirt · 2 months ago

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s4 episode 6 thoughts

today's adventure with our favorite agents didn't really do a lot for me but. at least it wasn't super sad? so let's go? i guess?

liveblog begins NOW!

this episode sounds like it is gonna make me squeamish. extremely so. and also i just read the rest of the episode descriptions for the season and i’m sad so i really hope this is SOMEHOW a happy one. hey, listen, it’s possible!

author’s note: sometimes i hate being right. sometimes i hate thinking, boy, this sure looks like it’s gonna make me feel lightheaded, and it does.

oh, how i look forward to diving into the fluff fic recommendations from my last post…. <3

but we must suffer through canon, no?

we open with someone about to undergo some liposuction, a thing i have never wanted to see. the patient is being wheeled in and the doctor is being informed of what kind of appointment he has next. the doctor is really really scrubbing his hands to the point i thought he was shaking and OH! his hands are very bloody. oh. i do not think that is clean.

oh god i’m in for a rough ride this episode aren’t i, i realize as we see him bleed through his gloves and begin the surgery. OHHHHH an incision. I AM NOT LOOKING I AM NOT LOOKING. i am looking a little OUGH is THAT what this procedure looks like from the doctor’s end??? oh my gosh. oh man. the… sucking…

deep breathing.

the nurse goes to see a different patient and explains she doesn’t know where the doctor is. the doctor is… currently REALLY going ham on the sucking. WHAAAA we see the blood fill up the tube and oh man i’m not joking like straight up being so honest w you i can feel my body growing faint. i actually did not look at the screen until the intro because that was too close for me. and yes i understand he was….um. going TOO hard.

oh mein gott… the things i do for these two agents….

save me intro. save me pretty picture of scully. and that scene where they burst in with the guns and flashlights. save me.

okay. i’ve regained most of my feeling in my head. now the doctor is here, very sorrowfully explaining how he was watching himself do those things without having any control over it.

ah, he is speaking to mulder, who suggests that it may be spirit or demon possession.

so mulder and scully are here talking to the doctor, but the lawyer says he did NOT want mulder talking to him lmaooo.

scully asks what meds he’s taking and the lawyer again shuts them down. rude as hell. she wants to know about his sleeping pills. let her doctor as needed tf

oh…. scully going straight into a detailed explanation of how his medication worked <3 i just love her… this is why i suffer through the fat sucking (which has now occurred multiple times??)

why is mulder eyeing this nurse. don’t think i didn’t notice that…

this doctor was taking more than a sleeping pill a day, and she says it has controversial effects, so maybe that could make a guy do such a thing. it’s a good start to a theory.

she seems mad as hell that this space is being used for cosmetic surgery and not as a hospital and i love that she has some righteous rage going on there… let her save some damn lives!!

“everyone’s doing it… or so i’ve heard” <- the thought of mulder getting plastic surgery is so silly… like is he not already the most gorgeous fellow alive

mulder’s on the floor looking at some weird marks and drawing a pentagram in the victim’s blood. average behavior for a guy like him. not convincing to scully, however.

scary facts with scully: deaths due to doctor's errors are upwards of 80,000 a year! that’s horrific and for my own sanity i’m not going to google how those stats have changed

“i don’t think it’s a simple possession, scully, i think it’s sorcery or black magic or something like that” (said with his hands on his hips in the standard mulder pose) love him so bad…. please recite to me the different levels of magic in order of complexity

they run into the nurse who was on call at the time the sucking incident went down, and she is like idk how it could happen… but when mulder tells her the doctor is claiming he was possessed, she says “i guess it’s cheaper than malpractice insurance” LMAO i like her… don’t tell me she was the one doing the sorcery or something, let us have one nice side character who makes it out alive

(author's note: ...)

then the agents try to talk to a doctor, but she says the patient can’t wait, which sparks more scully bitterness. mulder is watching the surgery stream. weird fellow

cutscene to a table with a conspicuous pentagram on it. someone is saying they need to keep calm. it seems they are the doctors at the facilities?

okay, so another procedure is going on. the patient says she’s getting a skin peel but the nurse is putting LEECHES ON HER?? man what the hell is going on here. and it’s the nice nurse who is doing it too 😭😭😭

mulder is making faces in the mirror now, seeming to mull the possibility of getting rhinoplasty over LMAOOO but scully knocks at his door… it’s video time!! woohoo, pop that bad boy in the VHS player!!

aww, it’s not a fun time video. it’s the video of the killing, and mulder claims to see a pentagram. scully is gagged that the doctor stabbed/sucked the dude to death, but i’m choosing to focus here on her beautiful freckles…..

he’s saying that a pentagram is for protection, so it wouldn’t even make sense, BUT “it does make sense that witchcraft or black magic would find a theater in a place like this, preying on the weak and vainglorious” <- woah... he's a philosopher

get yourself a man who can explain the positive connotations of pentagrams and other nerd stuff with 100% sincerity

oh my god, mulder is sitting on the bed and looking up at scully here, and i need it FRAMED. do you know the scene i’m talking about? i’d give you the time stamp if i had it. the way he’s looking at her…. oh my goodness... my heart.

the stomach pills the doctor was taking had an ingredient used in hexing rituals. live scully response: “well, if it’s that simple, why don’t you put out an APB for someone riding a broom and wearing a tall black hat?” <- LMAOOOO get his ass

he scrunches up his nose at this comment and oh my gosh. oh… i want to hold this grown man.

BUT he is saying the ritual might not be over yet, while he stares up at her so adoringly, and man… i’m so sensitive

okay back to the hospital, where this shady coalition of doctors seems to be debriefing. the nurse is there, who i am now suspicious of for engaging in leech-related activities.

oh! one of the other doctors went into a patient’s room and started burning their face with a laser. luckily, this is visually unrealistic enough for me to not nearly faint this time.

so this doctor who did the face lasering- dr. ilaqua- is now being seen by scully. and he is on the same sleeping medication as the first guy!!!

back at a computer, mulder is looking at before and after rhinoplasty pictures. NO... i love his nose… he had BEST NOT DO A DAMN THING to it. and he’s holding a pencil up to test how straight his nose is and MY MAN. STOP. you are beautiful. who told you otherwise. i love his nose.........

oh! the leeches were used to make a pentagram on the victim’s body. this is not a good sign.

this creepy panel of doctors is meeting again when the agents arrive and do not give a fuck about their meeting. yes!! more agents walking into places without knocking!!! it is my favorite! it sustains me!

scully says she’s sorry to barge in but it’s a matter of urgency whilst not looking sorry in the slightest. which suits her!

and one of the doctors- dr. franklyn- is explaining that there were similar deaths 10 years ago… and they’re pinning the blame on the nurse!!! saying she was there 10 years ago and just transferred back in!!!

i do not believe it in the slightest that if she IS involved in this, she is doing it on her own. but the doctor says she left early. where to?

well, the camera takes us to go do some creepy chanting, of course! in a room filled with candles and statues and jewelry. and she’s naked i think too which is a risk around so many open flames. okay and now some hair is being cut. but it’s not the nurse who is doing the chanting nor the trimming. whoever it is seems to be falling asleep.

the agents are here, and it is dark, and they are not messing around. they are going to this creepy house. with a cat meowing and a broom on the steps! i see what you did there.

mulder jokes that the broom gives them probable cause LMAO and then he starts to open the door as if it actually does… only to find a pentagram!!! dun dun DUUUUN!

it’s kicking the door down time, a good time in my opinion. where they hold the flashlight in one hand and the gun in the other… yeah. always a showy move. never gets old.

oh no!! scully finds the ritual space!! what could she have been doing in here?, she asks... girl i think you know damn well lmao

dr. franklyn from the council is coming home to his mansion… and his lights won’t turn on. that’s suspicious. that’s weird.

it’s very very quiet as he goes into his bathroom… AND FINDS SOMETHING WRITTEN ON BLOOD IN THE WALL!!

it looks like latin which i sadly cannot read :(

well, it could be blood OR lipstick, all things considered

and the tub is flowing with blood which is not a welcome sight. as he stares at his reflection like narcissus, something LEAPS out and GETS HIM!! so now there is a very bloody person loose in his house!!

he goes to call 911 but gets put on hold… as this person is going to TOWN on him with a knife.

the agents roll up and we see that it is the NURSE who is covered in the blood and just did the stabbing!!!! she says she needs to be let go, but i’m not gonna lie, i think that would be a very bad idea. mulder wants to chat. she’s saying she’s trying to stop “them”, but they’re too powerful… and then she… chokes up needles?? oh. and blood.

scully says get her in surgery NOW and also i’m going with her to the ER. while mulder looks at all the pins on the ground from her insides and then PICKS ONE UP???? the germs…..

so dr. franklyn got away and is being stitched up by one of the other doctors. they are not seeming to be enjoying the witchcraft theory. mulder watches dr. franklyn lay down in his bed and then when he leaves he starts to levitate!!!! what!!! and he’s smiling while doing this!!!

who are these weirdos…

it’s 3:40 AM and mulder has his demon books out, but really he’s looking at himself again in the mirror. bro is insecure and it’s making me sad.

a knock at the door. scully!! at nearly 4 am. “god, you look tired”, says mulder, in a way that expresses concern rather than being mean. and she actually doesn’t look tired at all because it’s TV, but i’ll suspend my disbelief again.

anyway, the nurse died from throwing up hundreds of pins. but how did they get IN there…

it has to be allotriophagy, says mulder, consulting his witchcraft encyclopedia! when you’re possessed and cough up strange and horrible things! which i shall use as an excuse next time i need to call in sick to work.

he stole the book from the nurse’s house, and also a calendar, where he found april 30th starred. and he explains it is one of the “four greater witches’ Sabbaths”, a natural thing for an FBI agent to know! /s

oh get this… the high holy days correspond to the birthdays of the victims!!! so that would be a good way to predict who is next.. but mulder says the nurse was trying to protect them with the pentagram, and she must have known something about dr. franklyn!!

so the doctors are talking about having a good thing going and people trying to take it away… i guess they're all in on this?

dr. franklyn has another procedure coming up, but the other doctor is like no dude you look terrible and you can’t mess this up, we'll get shut down, i’m doing it

and gasp!! there is a patient going in that was born on one of the holy days!!! and that patient is going into surgery right now!

OH MY GOSH HE BURNED HER FACE OFF. THERE IS NO FACE LEFT. WHAT. WHAT DID I JUST SEE.

so now they’re talking to another doctor, dr. shannon. they’re talking about how they successfully covered up the death cases from 10 years ago because they have made a TON of money doing plastic surgery. she says 4 patients died and a doctor named dr. cox worked himself to death. hmm...

mulder says to run dr. cox's photo through a cosmetic program… and it makes dr. franklyn… woah… spoooooky……

now we hear some labored scraping as dr. franklyn is doing knife twisting. carving… something. very sweatily. gross.

mulder’s theory is that dr. cox killed those patients in order to become dr. franklyn through some blood sacrifice to make himself pretty. i mean... did it work? let’s discuss. he looks fine, but not "i killed four people to look this good" fine.

now he’s getting some more tools… and he’s hurting the other doctor, dr. shannon!! with his mind! he didn’t even touch her!

mulder is at dr. franklyn's house with scully and they have their guns. god they’re beautiful. and she’s standing on a pentagram!! that has been inverted!!!

“they represent the goat of lust attacking heaven with its horns”, he says about the pentagram <- he’s SUCH a nerddddd omfggg

and he wrote in all the names of the patients he killed in his carving!! including dr. shannon!!! uh oh...

and they’re bringing dr. shannon in for surgery, saying she swallowed something.

dr. franklyn is…. cutting into his scalp. i am not looking so don’t worry.

mulder says do not let them operate on dr. shannon!!!!

oh my goodness, franklyn is just. cutting into his face. and i’m not looking but i am HEARING. the noises that are being produced.

they’re cutting into shannon and bleh. blehhh.

scully bursts in and says stop the surgery NOW!! and they’re all, who tf are you, get out of here!!! but she says i am a DOCTOR you need to LISTEN TO ME!! i love when she does that!

mulder is on the prowl for dr. franklyn. and he sees that he made a pentagram in blood. OH MY GOD HE CUT HIS OWN FACE OFF?? and left it there like a snake shedding it’s skin 😭😭

they pulled a ton of surgical instruments out of dr. shannon… so mulder says franklyn must have failed to complete his ritual….

but he managed to kill some other person who was born on halloween…. okay, that wasn’t a happy ending….

OH! dr. franklyn has a NEW FACE and is now getting a job in LA!

so… he’s just gonna… keep doing successful surgeries for 10 years and then take a little break to go on a killing spree, get a new face, and dip?

well. at least he sticks to a schedule?

um. okay. so what am i thinking here….

well, i did nearly faint many times. i am not looking forward to editing my notes and reliving that. i do not think this is an episode i would give a rewatch based on how i reacted to it.

but, the last few episodes have been super dark, and this one somehow felt… lighter? despite everything. we got some jokes in there and some silly time. and even if it ended on a “oh no, he’s still out there!” reveal, it was somehow less emotionally draining than the last few.

was it ridiculous? yes. but was it also kind of refreshing after the last two episodes? also yes! which i think is a testament to how dark things have been rather than the quality of this episode.

it was fine. it didn’t really do a whole lot for me. i mean, interesting to think of plastic surgery as devil worship, i guess, but potentially a reductive take. idk. i guess i don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about these things.

things i DID like in this episode: that conversation mulder had with scully, where he was sitting on the bed looking up at her like he was going to ask for her hand in marriage or to be best friends forever and ever or talk about the meaning of being alive or some similar topic. it was so terribly tender. also, facts with scully! tell me about controversial drugs!! and mulder, tell me about the symbolism of a pentagram! i love these nerds! that was kind of it, though.

it was an episode. an episode with some good things and some meh things. that’s sort of par for the course. just… next time, less surgery. please. for me?

#“it represents the goat of lust attacking heaven with its horns” <- sentences i NEED to work into my daily vocabulary #idk i don't have any real thoughts here beyond that i nearly passed out #and even rereading my notes is pushing it so pardon any typos #craving domestic intimacy of the platonic romantic or secret third thing kind with the agents i want to feel cozy i want them to bake a cak #juni's x files liveblog #the x files #txf

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comfy-sofa · 2 years ago

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I finally watched episode 6 (rant/thoughts)

Y'all I'm not doing ok in the slightest. The last episode got me in my feels and now episode 6 is making it even worse so let's break it down yeah?

Can we PLEASE talk about the beginning scene??? Like Wolfwood's eyes??? Dude it was kinda unsettling

Vash acting all nonchalant about being "friends" with Meryl and Roberto (you ain't fooling me you funky little plant you're just trying to shut your emotions down so you don't get attached)

Ok being a little art nerd, I just wanna say I love the sandsteamer's design and think it would be fun to ride on one. Also it seems they're wasn't a caravan following the steamer so maybe they changed it?

Being an art nerd once again, the lack of variety when it comes to different body shapes and sizes is kinda getting to me. Like all the men look like inverted doritos and I could really use some variety.

LIVIO...barely said anything??? But fuck I would be lying if I said I didn't cry tears of joy seeing him.

THE CHILDHOOD FLASHBACK. Orange I need more of this IMMEDIATELY IT WAS SO PRETTY

BABY LIVIO AND NICOOOOO😭😭😭 I want to protect these boys so much! ( Ngl when I saw Nico and Livio tending to the baby birds I had a moment of great fear, if you read TriMax you'll know)

Nicolas was really born with a lighter in his hand because not him smoking that space zaza and trying to get livio to do it

So...the EOM is really walking around here looking like that??? Taking children??? AND NO ONE'S SAYING ANYTHING???

The hallucination scene was so fucking pretty my GOD

Ok Nicolas trying to escape so he could go back to the orphanage did things to my heart go (this also highlights his past personality of caring about others, especially kids)

Speaking of that scene LEGATO BLUESUMMERS, you fruity-tooty bitch glad to see ya (also seeing Nico's hand get bent up like that made me fucking squirm my goodness) also I guess we can say Legato's powers is more on the telepathy side versus the metal strings

God Vash can't get a fucking break and he knows it. Speaking of Vash, that punch/push he did to Livio??? Nah his patience is wearing thin and I'm gonna be right there front row when it happens (can you tell imma big fan of when Vash looses his cool?)

So we didn't get Razlo this episode, so maybe we'll get him soon? (I saw that ending screen Orange I know who that is)

There's no way in fucking hell Wolfwood is dying next episode like... this is not gonna leave the impact they want it to have. At most this is gonna cause everyone to separate and be on their own for a bit (which is good because they need to slow the fuck down)

Lastly, BAD LADS GANG LET'S GOOOO. This was my favorite episode for the original Trigun so I hope they do her justice. (B.D.N, the love of my life I'll see you soon)

Ok that was a lot, but TLDR I'm nervous about Livio and how they're gonna handle Razlo and I truly doubt they're gonna kill off Wolfwood (maybe we'll get more backstory and character development because they definitely fucking need it). Also if they whitewash BDN it's on signt.

#trigun #trigun stampede #Rhythm rants #I probably forgot something #I'll add it later if i remember #i wonder though...#if they're using the Trigun/TriMax storyline as a setup for a new story/new adventures etc.#but oh well we'll see

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rrenzwrld · 2 years ago

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lovefool

an original story w original characters and a semi-original plot

it’s in episodes bc i wanna be different and yes characters are black bc i’m black (except one but he 50/50 so we gonna let it slide)

just something i write in the notes when i’m bored and i enjoy reading it (yes i enjoy reading my own stuff when i’m bored it’s okay). and if you wanna know more about the characters, lemme know! (even tho i doubt anyone will see this so i’m just posting this to make myself feel good)

episode 1

chy’anne

“girl you have to come to the game with us tonight,” i rolled my eyes. “please~? my sister will pick us up and drop us off.”

“and why? you know i don’t care about no fuckin football.” never have, never will. what was special about this particular game, i didn’t know until my best friend was happy enough to remind me.

“okay but, you know who plays~” laila sang in my ear. i smiled as i thought about the only reason i would even think to attend a game. andreas andino. that man was fine outta his mind. it’s a shame my crush on him for the past 6 years did me no good. i bet he’s never even thought about talking to me. but in his defense, i’ve never thought about talking to him either. it wasn’t like we were complete strangers. we’ve been going to school together since elementary i just never had the guts to talk to him because he’s always been in that circle and i’m not.

“see? we should go for the one time. just for him.” it wouldn’t be so bad if the only reason was to see him. i didn’t really care about the other stuff.

“i’ll go but i don’t have shit to wear.” laila stood up from my bed and walked to my closet.

“oh, baby. we can fix that.”

once she found something appropriate for me to wear, i took my braids out the bun and put on my glasses for the night.

when we got there, the stands were packed full as if everyone thought they were watching a nfl football game. i heard our team was good, but i didn’t know how good.

“damn this bitch more packed than a mothafucker,” laila commented as we looked around for open seats. when we spotted two of our other friends, nashae and namir up high in the stands. we made our way up and scooted in next to them

“we see you brought the hermit.” namir commented. i rolled my eyes.

“she only here because she wants to see—“

“andino~” the three of them sang like little cupids.

“all of yall can go to hell.” they snickered at my reaction.

“don’t worry, you didn’t miss too much of the show. just starting second quarter.”

“your man been hittin some touchdowns, girl.” nashae squealed.

i sat up to see if i could recognize him out on the field. “what number is he?”

“twenty.” namir smirked. and there i saw him. running the ball with his long light brown hair sticking out the helmet he wore. i didn’t know anything at all about what he was doing, but i could watch him do it all day.

“aw hell.. we lost her.”

“earth to chy’anne.” laila started snapping her fingers in my face.

“huh..” i turned to her.

“i’m going to the concession stand, you want something?” she asked as she stood up and began to walk down.

“y-yeah, but i’m comin with you.” i followed her down the stands and to the concession stand.

after we grabbed some chips and sodas, we sat back down to watch the game. the game lasted about another two hours before it was nearing the end and people were starting to get up to leave to beat traffic.

“we leavin yall?” nashae stood up and asked all of us.

“yeah we can go. you ready to go, chy?” i wasn’t ready to go. i kinda wanted to see if i could talk to andreas before i left but i wasn’t sure if that was possible or not.

“nah she wanna stay and see her man~” nashae smiled as namir stood up with their stuff. we all stood up and we’re at the the bottom of the stands by the gate now.

“well i’m her ride so, bye yall~” nashae and namir said their goodbyes to laila and i before we waited around by the gate for the players to come out. almost everyone had left by this point. after they did their team stuff, andreas actually started to walk over to the gate where we were. he was still in his uniform pants but the only difference was that he took his shirt and helmet off. so he was walking over to us with a white tank top and his uniform pants. but his hair, my god his hair! it was all over the place because of the helmet but it was beautifully brown and bushy, like a lion’s mane and it touched the midsection of his back.

“girl how long we gon be—“

“he comin…over here. he really comin over here.”

“don’t do no stupid shit.” laila quickly whispered to me before he completely faced us from the other side of the gate.

“hey, chy’anne?” oh my fuck, he spoke to me.

“h-hey, andino— i mean, andreas. i’m sorry.” i could hear laila mentally face palm herself behind me.

“you can call me andino, it’s fine. people do it all the time.” he smiled with all his pretty white teeth and his pretty little dimples to match. “anyways, you waiting for someone?”

laila came from behind me. “she was waitin for you, pretty boy.” i guessed this was her version of moving things along because i definitely was not doing the best at that right now.

andreas looked at me with raised brows. “oh? ‘that so?” he looked at me inquisitively with those chocolately brown eyes.

“came to the game just for her andino~” she really did not just do that?

he laughed. “really?” i felt so embarrassed. crawling into a hole and going to sleep or something sounded real good right about now…

“she’ll tell you all about it. listen, chy i’m gonna be in the car when you’re ready. bye~” she left me alone with andreas after doing that, knowing i didn’t really know how to talk to him without tripping over my own tongue.

“andino~” he mocked before laughing again.

“are you mocking me?” he started walking along the gate and i started walking too.

“no, no. i think it’s kinda…” he jumped over to the other side. “kinda cute, actually.”

“really?” he thinks i’m cute?

“yeah. i actually didn’t expect you to come tonight.”

“yeah normally i’m at home but laila wanted me to come so..”

he scoffed. “sure.” everytime i’m near him, i forget how freakishly tall and big he is. the width of one of his arms was the size of my head.

“you, uh, look nice tonight, by the way.” was he really paying attention to me that hard?

“aww really?” i knew he didn’t really care about how i looked and it was just something to talk about.

“yeah, actually. you always look good.” i rolled my eyes. “if you think i’m bullshittin you, i’m not.” must’ve read my mind.

all i could do was hum, i didn’t know how to talk to him beyond this point and i was getting sleepy and it was getting late.

“can i give you my number? unless you already have it..” i took out my phone and looked through it.

“i don’t.”

we exchanged numbers and he ended up walking me to laila’s sister’s car.

“i’ll try to text you tomorrow.”

“why? you need something?” he looked at me like i did something wrong.

“no i just, just wanna talk to you.” he talked to me in that low rasp and i almost fell out right there. i wasn’t used to people texting me if they didn’t want help with work or something.

“o-okay.. goodnight, andino.”

he laughed. “goodnight, chy’anne.” he told me before i got into the car and we drove on.

“you did it again.”

“goddamnnit..” i whispered to myself.

#original content #original stuff #original story #notafanfic #lovefool—rrenzwrld #basically for myself but y’all can read too #love #high school #relationship

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vera9 · 2 years ago

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oh i will talk fandom with you because puentalay run circles in my mind all day everyday and i need to let them out but idk how.

puen has personality of biggest loser but luck of thousands gods because talay fell for him and 1) they didn't see each others faces 2) talay didn't know how rich he is 3) they have maybe not even one common interest (only writing scenarios but talay was forced to do it and I don't think he'll continue to do it in the future) and still their bond feels so natural and strong??? they really live just to do the best things which are bicker and bang and enjoy good food.

tell me what's your favourite talay and favourite puen moments from the series?:)

Hi anon!! <3

DKAJFSD THE WAY YOU JUST STUCK "BANG" IN THERE MADE ME LAUGH ADKFJ

But yeah, I absolutely adore how they drove home that appearance plays no part in their connection. I'm sure they find each other physically attractive (in both their own and the other universe) but they were fully aware Tess and Tun's bodies didn't belong to them and fell in love anyway. It was all about the person inside. That's love man 😩

Also asldkjfld oh man I'm sure @stormyoceans is far more informed than I am but I can think of a couple things they have in common! We see them flying kites, fishing(?), and riding bikes in episode 2, plus they're enjoying a movie together in episode 10. And *sighs in I-don't-drink* we all know they like their alcohol. What's awesome about these two is that you can easily imagine them trying new things together, simply because they enjoy each other's company so much 😊

OH BOY YOU ASKED FOR IT. Because I have to be extra about this, here's at least one (1) favorite PuenTalay moment of mine per episode:

Episode 1 - Talay gifting the alpaca hat (and this line in particular)

Episode 2 - drunk!Talay kiss & "Ai'Dang!" (also proud of myself for calling that line was gonna come back when this episode aired)

Episode 3 - Talay not only trying to cheer Puen up (in his own goofy way) but also giving him advice without judgment (yes I like the bath scene too but this one is more meaningful to me personally, it's such an important step in their relationship)

Episode 4 - Talay teasing a shy Puen (rare in the wild) & the cheek-pinching battle

Episode 5 - the mouthing-words thing coming full circle by way of Puen reassuring a sad and lonely Talay he won't leave him behind

Episode 6 - Talay confessing everything he loves about Puen & whatever the hell this is

Episode 7.1 - this entire fucking scene

Episode 7.2 - Puen running right over with a home-cooked meal because he heard Talay was sick + the following conversation

Episode 7.3 - and of course, the emotional climax

Episode 8 - Puen pulling one over on Talay (and immediately explaining why), Puen being a horny bastard, them being total nerds, and THE scene which has to be one of the most romantic scenes I’ve ever seen

Episode 9 - Puen being a horny bastard yet again while making this face, Puen helping Talay with his trauma (again, no judgment to be found) despite having a terrible fight with him last time they saw each other, them making up in an understanding, healthy way, and Puen realising who Talay is in their own universe

Episode 10 - this bathtub scene because I love just how frickin’ comfortable they are with each other (even though I’d never dangle a tablet above my bath what is wrong with you Puen) & them hugging in elation after finally finding the link that’ll bring them back home

Episode 11 - WHAT THE HELL ELSE (+ them falling over during the kiss because that’s an adorable touch)

Episode 12 - this one might be incomplete because I’ve only watched it once and I’m holding off on a rewatch but! them being domestic and bantery and adorable in the opening scene, Puen pulling an Enchanté, and Puen’s proposal (Lays get the fuck outta here)

So much for sticking to one scene lmfao this took a bit of time so I hope you like my picks!!

#thank you!! <3 #my asks #long post

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nong-nao · 3 years ago

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I am so overwhelmed from this episode, literally the most conflicted this show has ever left me in emotions and I think it has a lot to do with the fact that it is mostly in Pat’s pov this episode.

The show up until this point has been mostly in Pran’s pov and we all know how he feels, it’s been clear from the beginning. Nanon does such a great job at portraying all of the emotions that Pran would be feeling, really bringing to life the whole phrase "showing not telling." Ohm has also done well portraying Pat because this whole time he'd been acting “normal” since he didn't feel anything to his knowledge romantically for Pran.

This episode, you could feel the aloofness and confusion Pat has in the beginning where he’s almost trying to push all of his feelings in Ink’s direction but that’s not where they are and deep down he knows it. When he coincidentally [probably not since we saw that Pran had has Pat and Ink together] meets Pran at the music shop, he starts thinking about his interaction with him with Pa's hints of romantic interest. It's so brilliantly directed too because it's not Pat thinking about how Pran sees him [like what he was doing with Ink in the cafe?] but it's him taking an introspective approach of this what he is feeling. The idea of him liking Pran in that way scares him; thinking back on the Just Friends? lyrics, he’s probably feeling insecure and hesitant about it because Pran is important to him and they really are in such a confusing place.

Wai acts as a catalyst almost for Pat to realize his emotions because he can sense that there’s something more between Wai and Pran or at least he’s filling in dots with them because he’s consumed by his own jealousy, not only romantically but in a friendship way that almost says how can you be so close to someone else and hide me? lf we really think about it, Pat’s closest friend or confidante is Pa i mean if i had friends like his, I also wouldn’t confide in them with my deepest thoughts, Pat has probably also felt so guilty about being seen as Pran's bad luck that he never really got close to other people so they wouldn't get hurt and neither would he. I also could just be thinking to much about it. The song was just the tipping point for Pat since the song symbolized their cursed relationship even if at the time he said it in a joking manner and Pran chose to play it with Wai, someone who can easily be in Pran’s life. Pran’s mom likes him and invites him into the house for dinner, even lets him spend the night, not to mention that they are protective of each other as well. For pat to see them together and then celebrating as if nothing special had happened, it’s a huge slap in the face. On a regular day if Pran had won the contest, Pat would have teasingly congratulated him and said some sny remark, but so much has happened that it just can’t be the case for them. Pran pushing him away and putting distance between the two, trying so hard to hide their secret relationship, whatever it may be, from Wai just makes Pat angrier at the circumstances. After all he was waiting for Pran to come home and it ended in something much bigger than he would have wanted.

All of these events build up so much tension for the final scene, which left me shocked going to through a whirlwind of emotions. Pat ,when he finally finds Pran, breaks down in such a calm but hurt way all about how their relationship is so confusing. That it's so tiring being the sons of families who put them against each other, always having to be aware of the other, but that he wouldn't have wanted it another way because it was lonely not having him in his life even if he could breathe better. Pran, obviously the audience knowing his own side, cries hearing this because he also feels and knows the conflict of their relationship all too well. They're not enemies, but they can't be friends, what can they be really when they both want to be more than that? The first kiss, I can only imagine how conflicted they would both be feeling. Pran, probably confused by how this whole night went down, still trying to calm down and then be met with the lips of the man that he has loved on his own for years. He has wanted this moment for so long that he brought Pat back in for another kiss, which only eased Pat's worries going into the kiss in the first place because he didn't know the other's emotions or rather he never accepted them to be real before that night. Their whole relationship over their lives, every possible emotion was in that kiss, and that is what made it so overwhelming. So when it finally came to an end, Pran was met with the reality of this kiss and what can't be or what shouldn't be, maybe also how they were in a fight just minutes before. Pat just being crushed after being relieved that this kiss was mutual, meaning the feels were mutual as well, but watching Pran walk away leaving him feel that it was a mistake. Just so powerful, seriously major kudos to everyone that went into the production of this show.

#bad buddy #thai bl #ohmnanon #ohm pawat #nanon korapat #episode 6 is gonna be a hell of a ride and i can just feel the angst of the bet coming #the only thing that kept me sane after that last scene was me rooting for sapphic pa and ink #p'aof please never leave gmmtv because you literally never fail us #man i'm still reeling from this episode and it's been an hour already #kieta hatsukoi is also gonna be tense tomorrow with a touch of fluff so that's great for my mental health :)#i need to rewatch some super fluff filled show now to get my mind off of this ahhhh

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1kook · 4 years ago

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espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills. warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened. “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch.

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive.

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still.

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion.

#goldenclosetnet #bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #bts smut #mine

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idkwhatever580 · 27 days ago

Text

Idk if y’all liked my commentary on the last episode of Agatha All Along but I’ve decided I don’t care what you guys think I’m gonna do it anyways. And I’m gonna give timestamps this time 😭

I just realized I never posted this 😭 I’m gonna post it now while I’m working on episode six bro 😭🔫

⚠️WARNING⚠️ AGATHA ALL ALONG EPISODE 5 SPOILERS AHEAD… WATCH AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

You have been warned 😭

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2:09:

OH MY GOD WTF ARE THOSE THINGS

Like logically I know they are the Salem seven. And that probably means they’re the lady witches that Agatha killed all the way back in wandavision lol 😂 but why are they whispering and lurking like fucking BUGS THEY LOOK LIKE BUGS

3:02:

Holy shit not Rio defending Agatha. That’s low-key hot. Not the protectiveness 😭

So what? Maybe she is the angel of death or whatever you want to call her. (Angel in my eyes) I’d probably let her kill me and then I’d thank her for it too 😭😜

5:12

WOOOAAAAAHHHHH

That was so fucking funny bro 😭 why is rio so fucking real. Like idc that I’m being chased I’m literally about to ride a broom

IM PAMELA PUMPKIN

Now ride the witches broom. Ride the witches broom 😭

6:36

Bro her witch laugh ✋😭

That shit has me shook

6:56

OH HELL NAW FUCKING BUGS?!

ID KILL MYSELF SO HARD

8:47

No way.

“We have to wee gee”

✋😭🔫

I’ve never ever pronounced ouija like that brooooo