#flirtybutmakeitstupid

[k-verse-sachi]

bf application

"But okay, listen… 👀 If you’re applying to be my boyfriend, here’s what you need to know:"

✨ Name: my name is legally none yah bussiness cause why would I post my real name ont the internet, but you can call me Kori or kade ✨ Age: I'm 17 turning 18 in june ✨ Favorite color: {trick question I don't have one any color that is dark and is in a dark color pallet I like} (Bonus points if you remember this for absolutely no reason at all) ✨ Dream job: actress (Because let’s be real, I have taste) ✨ Realistic job: on site military therapist (We live in a society 💀) ✨ Studying: Psychology, because I like overanalyzing people for fun and calling it academia 😌

✨ Random facts that will either make you love me or reconsider your choices:

I don’t like chocolate, BUT I do like chocolate milk. Yes, this makes perfect sense. No, I will not elaborate.

I love dancing, which means I will randomly pull people I know into slow dancing with me. No music needed. Just vibes.

I bite people to show affection. This is your warning.

I like K-pop, which means yes, there will be pictures of men on my walls. But don’t worry—you get to be my wallpaper. 😉

I will call Han Jisung my husband and refer to Lee Minho as my husband’s husband. But you? You get to be the one I tell my “wife” bestie about while I giggle at 2 AM.

I will bake at 3 AM for NO reason at all, and you will have nothing to do about it. MUAHAHAHA.

I procrastinate until the absolute last possible second and then stress-do everything at once. When I’m done, I will crash exactly where I finished, whether it’s the floor, the couch.

I will ask you insane questions at random times like:

“Do you think anime characters have us as their show in their universe?”

“If you kill a mime, does it scream in sign language?”

“Do you think pigeons have government jobs?”

If I say “I’ll fight for your honor,” it’s not a metaphor. I will throw hands.

I get random bursts of energy where I want to run, spin, or climb something. Please don’t stop me; just be ready to catch me when I inevitably fall.

I will send you a playlist with zero context and expect you to understand my entire mood and emotional state.

If you don’t stop me from impulse-buying random things at 3 AM, you are legally complicit in my choices.

If I laugh so hard I start crying, I am no longer responsible for my actions.

I think staring at the ceiling dramatically while listening to sad music is a valid form of self-care.

Bonus points if you trip over air, make terrible puns, or have an accent (not required, but it helps your resume).

If you send me cute cat memes unprompted, you just might secure the position.