#get some endorphins going bc i need them

[nicistrying]

I can do it. It's 7.30am, I have an hour before I need to log on for work, which is plenty of time for a quick stretch and arm workout. I don't even need to make myself super presentable for work as I shouldn't be needing to call anyone until I start answering the phones at 1pm. I need a proper workout after a weekend off 💪

[gaypiece]

OP + how they take care of u on a bad mental health day

tbh this is mostly for me bc i been going thru it and i need law cuddles yesterday

☁︎ Ft. Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Luffy, Law, & Robin

☁︎ CW: slightly suggestive, mdni

Zoro:

Not a man of many words

Will give you space if he thinks that’s what you need

Will make sure you’re taking care of yourself, but tries to act casual about it (randomly asking when was the last time you ate/drank water etc)

If you just want to rest/stay in bed, but want the company, he will gladly sit with you. May even nap next to you will nap with you if you ask him nicely

If you need a distraction, he will try to get you to train with him, plus the exercise will release extra endorphins

Might suggest another form of exercise if you’re a couple ;)

Sanji:

Will make you all of your favorite comfort foods (I think this one is a given)

Might encourage you to hang out with him in the kitchen if you’ve been in bed all day (and may try to teach you a thing or two if you need a distraction)

Will bring you water unprompted

Encourages you to talk about what’s bothering you, is understanding if you don’t want to

Will absolutely hold you if you need it

If you’re a couple, will kiss you all over and incessantly remind you of how much he loves you and how beautiful and strong you are 🥹

Nami:

Will ask who hurt you so she can kill them

Babies the fuck out of you

Orders Sanji to bring you whatever food/drinks you want (he probably would have done it anyway, but Nami wants to make sure you’re taken care of)

If you’re stopped at an island, will offer to take you shopping and get you anything you want, her treat. Will also 100% play dress up in whatever clothing stores until the two of you get kicked out

May also get you a cute little gift that she will surprise you with once you get back to the Sunny 🥹

Teams up with Usopp to start shit between Zoro and Sanji bc you think it’s so funny when they bicker

Will cuddle the shit out of you, but makes sure you’re showered first esp if you struggle to take care of yourself on a bad day

Will offer to help you shower if you’re a couple ;)

Luffy:

Asks you what’s wrong. If you don’t want to talk about it, will beg you to tell him because he wants to help. If nothing is really wrong, and it’s just a bad day, he doesn’t really understand, but will still try to make you feel better

Honestly doesn’t really understand mental illness, but doesn’t like seeing you sad

Does anything and everything in his power to make you laugh

If he thinks you need a hug, will wrap his limbs around you as many times as possible and squeeze definitely a little too hard

Law:

100% understands that mental health is just as important as physical health, and will treat you as if you’re physically ill (but not contagious)

Encourages you to talk about what’s bothering you, is understanding if you don’t want to talk about it

Constantly in doctor mode, making sure you’re eating, drinking water, taking care of yourself, etc

Will surface the Polar Tang just so you can get out to the deck and get some sunlight

If you need company, he will absolutely sit with you, even if it’s just in silence. If he’s too busy, he will get Penguin and Shachi and/or others to spend time with you.

Might ask Bepo to give you cuddles if you need it

If you two are close, may cuddle you himself

If you’re a couple, will remind you of how much you mean to him, even though words are difficult for him

Might also show you what you mean to him ;) he’s more than happy to distract you

Robin:

Definitely the gentlest one on this list

Will listen better than anyone, and is understanding

Validates your feelings and may relate to them

Makes you a cup of tea

Gives cuddles, finds it cute if you fall asleep on her

Mommy Robin’s chest and thighs are the best pillows

If you’re a couple, funny business probably isn’t on the forefront of her mind but she is 100% down if you initiate it

[healer-pop]

DUDE IMAGINE CERVIX KISSING VENTURE WITH THE STRAP???

god I cannot even tell u how much they would be all over that. bc listen, this act is so sensual and intimate and that’s something Venture is all about. It’s the feeling of fullness, of pressure against the inner most part of you, while you’re basically pressed against your partner and the endorphins it releases is just… wow. unmatchable.

Virgin Venture would go absolutely speechless at the feeling. They would be completely at your mercy, their brain just wouldn’t be able to comprehend the sensation. Honestly, if they’re still being bratty and talking big, it’s the only way to shut them up. A KO. They’d stare up at you with wide eyes, mouth falling open, just completely helpless at the pleasure being rocked through their body right now. Their hands on your shoulders leaving beautiful crescent moons via blunt nails, their own form of tattooing themself upon you. As you fix your gaze on them, breathing whispers of praise on their cheeks, the tears take their place, starting to fall. Wet streams that leave their skin glistening without the two of you realizing, “U-uhng- m-more. More, please, fuck, m-more?”

It’s almost completely guttural sounds, a few words you can pick out mixed into the noise being a couple of strung together letters that Venture can actually remember right now. Anything else that spills from their lips is just gasping babble, punched straight from their lungs.

A Venture with a bit more experience is still in cloud nine, but has more control over their brain function. Their face is blissed out, seeing more colors than humanly possible, staring straight into the ceiling because anything else would be too overwhelming.

Their voice still hitches in places as they talk, “A-aah… yes, yes, cariño. So fucking good. You’re- you’re so deep in me… So deep. I feel so filled up by you. Mm… I- I want you to move. Hard, ok? Wanna… wanna feel you tomorrow too.”

Loose arms, tossed over your neck like a shawl. You lean down to kiss their neck, savoring the moan it pulls as you lick off salty sweat from their heated skin. Their legs pull you in as tight as they can, every time you give a vicious thrust to their cunt. You live for the way Venture shuts their eyes, the broken moans that they hand out shattered by your pace.

They’re completely relaxed in your arms despite the bruising fuck you’re currently delivering to them right now. Open to your desires, putty in your hands. You could line hickies up on their neck. Fuck, play tic tac toe with it, they couldn’t care less. All they can think about is the way your cock hits their cervix every time you push in.

You might literally drive them wild. Expect their clinginess to drive up 500% because getting fucked like that? Yeah, no. Their body suddenly craves everything about you. Your scent, your warmth, your presence. It’s like an undeniable itch that they need to scratch, can’t get through the day with out having some sort of physical contact with you. Like all their hormones are secreting some sort of need. Maybe due to their fucked out state that you created, the way they just completely imprinted on you as theirs… Like, they are hanging off of you the next day.

Many others try and attempt to talk to Venture, but don’t get very far since they’re still not completely able to formulate full thoughts. They chalk it up to poor sleep and let Venture be, but it makes you smile to know the full story.

They snuggle into your neck as you try to get paperwork done, try and pull you into sharing their jacket. They’ve always been affectionate but this feels… different. Almost as if they are gently floating down from sub space, using the physical touch to ease the transition. You allow it, of course, but it’s definitely a plus to have a snugglebug on your arms the next day.

Yeah. Venture definitely likes when you cervix kissing them, but would probably ask that you save it for when they DON’T need to be a single person. Or, you know, have a brain the next day.

[mattsdae]

Matt Stone? Period sex? FUCK YES!! I’m so down for that idea!!!

the thing is, i feel like matt would be so nonchalant about periods that he doesn’t even make a big deal out of it? like as long as you’re fine with it, he’s down. if anything, i think he would actually like it bc he can slide in easier and with less preparation. plus i heard sex helps with cramps sooo

anyways here’s some content warnings

matt stone x fem reader , period sex obviously , matt is actually nice for once ??

“i’m on my period.”

he looked down at you, thinking for a moment. you hadn’t been dating matt for long and this was the first time he’s tried to have sex while you were on your period. it sucks, but you were fully aware of the fact that most men are grossed out by periods. it made you nervous telling him because matt’s such a nice guy, but him being weird around periods would definitely end the relationship.

“and?” he said, visibly confused. you adjusted yourself, leaning on your elbows as he pulled away, no longer pinning you to the bed.

“i just wanted to let you know. are you fine with that?” you asked, clinching the sheets as you said it. he rose an eyebrow.

“are you?” he responded. you nodded. “lemme get a towel real quick. you need to do anything or..?” he stood. you went to the bathroom, removing your tampon before getting back into his bed, which now had several towels laid down.

“isn’t this a little overkill?” you joke. he shrugged.

“i didn’t know what your flow is like so i just put a ton to be safe,” he said as he crawled back over. you played with the corner of one of the towels.

“why did you grab white towels?” you asked with a laugh. he shrugged and lifted your legs, wrapping them around him and lifting the shirt you stole from him.

“i’ll just buy more, babe. it’s not like i have red towels on hand,” he grumbled as he leaned down, kissing your neck. you giggled and squirmed under him. it wasn’t your first time having sex with him, but everything he did was still so new you didn’t know how to react.

“i’ve never done this before,” you mumble. he glances up at you, still confused.

“ever?” he clarifies. you nod. he leaned back, letting himself settle between your legs. his fingers slowly trailed down your chest and towards your stomach. “you want me to talk you through it?”

you nod again and smile. he slowly dipped his fingers between your folds. you shivered, finding yourself for sensitive than usual. he leaned down and kissed along your tummy. you sigh as he circled your clit.

“you know, i heard somewhere that sex can help with cramps,” he started. you laughed.

“that’s not true,” you say. he smiled up at you.

“seriously! i looked it up ‘cause i didn’t believe it either. says there’s some endorphins that release during sex that helps with pain,” he explained. as his fingers ran along your hole, never going more than a knuckle deep.

“are you saying that so i’ll have sex with you everytime i’m on my period?” you ask, barely holding back a moan from his touching. it was embarassing how well he knew you already. he wasn’t even fully touching you, but you still arched your back.

“why would i have to convince you? i’m sure you’ll enjoy it since you’re already writhing.” you blushed while he chuckled. he finally inserted two fingers, sighing himself as you moan. you grab at his triceps, shocked by how easily he fingered you. “see how easy this is? i’m sure you’ve gotten horny while on your period, right?”

“yeah,” you moan, rutting against his fingers as he curled them. you whimper at the obscene squelching noise. he didn’t mind, though, instead massaging your walls until you gasped.

“there we are. have you ever touched yourself during your period?” you shook your head. “well, you can be more sensitive, which makes everything ten times better and it helps with the sexual frustration,” he spoke smoothly. his tone was even as you fell apart under him. his voice almost punctuated every movement, a subconscious rhythm to it.

“matt, i think i’m gonna cum,” you whimper. he pulled his fingers out, causing you to whine. after wiping his fingers off on the towel, he undressed, tossing his boxers and shorts to the side. he gave himself a few tugs before lining up.

“i’m gonna slide in real easy, okay?” he said, quietly asking if you were sure. you nodded. it would be impossible to back out now, not with your orgasm being right there. you shut your eyes tight, covering your face as you felt the head against your pussy. as you took a deep breath, he pushed in. he stopped at the tip, letting you adjust. it did go in easily, which only made you beg for more.

“please, please, please,” you chanted, trying to grab onto his shoulder and pull him close. he chuckled above you, clearly enjoying your reactions to everything he was doing. he held still, circling your clit again.

“you gotta be patient, momma. don’t wanna hurt you,” he teased. you whimpered. he knew that was your favorite pet name, so using it only made you more desperate. that was his motive, of coarse, so he slowly thrusted inside, letting you feel every inch inside of you.

“matt, please,” you begged. “just, kiss me? please?”

his clean hand held you by the back of your head, pulling you close and planting his lips on yours. you moaned into his mouth as he finally bottomed out. he bit your bottom lip as you trembled, clinching around him.

“fuck, you feel so good. such a good girl, huh?” he huffed as he pulled out just as slow. you grabbed his cheeks, desperate for more. he chuckled against your lips, pulling away just enough that you weren’t touching anymore. he brushed a hair out of your face, enjoying your red cheeks and lips.

“i want you to fuck me, matt. please,” you begged again. you looked up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. he smiled and pinched your cheek.

“you don’t have to beg, baby. you’re doing so good,” he smiled before thrusting back in, still gentle and experimental. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close. his smile pressed against your neck before kissing along your tensed muscles.

his hands ran along your sides before staying on your hips, holding you in place. he’s been rough before, but this wasn’t one of those times. he caressed you, causing shivers down your spine as his fingers just barely brushed over your skin.

“i’m close,” you whimper. he kept his pace, gripping your hips just a bit harder as his stuttered. he was close, too, but he held himself back. your nails dug into his shoulders, dragging down as you tried to pull him closer. he couldn’t get any closer, chest pressed against yours, but you still tried.

“go ahead, baby. you deserve it,” he hummed. your face scrunched up, pushing against his neck. you trembled, choking out a sob as you came. he moaned above you as you throbbed around him, arms tightening around his neck. “so good, honey. so good.”

you slowly relaxed, falling back onto the sheets as he pulled out and came on the towel under you, which was now soaked in cum and blood. he kissed your cheek before going to the bathroom, wiping himself off and returning with a wet towel for you.

“thank you.” it was quiet, but you spoke just loud enough for him to hear it. he laughed.

“why are you thanking me?” he asked with a grin.

“that was just.. really good.”

“well, thank you for trusting me enough to do that.”

[fluffypotatey]

any tips and tricks for getting into the writing zone?

ok so i have 2 methods and they depend on what i'm writing on: story writing and essay writing (waring: this is a mini-ramble)

with essay writing,

get mad, get super fucking mad, write that shit with spite flowing in your veins. even when i'm writing essays and stories i enjoy, i drag my feet.

i whine and complain like a toddler in my head because despite this topic being one i enjoy, putting my excited tones and rambling into coherent words always tends to feel like i'm butchering that (which is why academic papers should simply let me swear in them and use the 1st pov bc it is sO easy and my thoughts flow a lot better but noooOOOOoooooOOOOOooooo, i have to be formal and proper and-)

also, outlining. fucking godsend with essays. it's why a lot of my longer essays have headings bc i use them to outline and keep my thought on one line of thought bc i have a rambling issue (which is then easily solved with parentheses, my beloved)

with story writing (notice how this is basically a heading? good job! you've found my mini outline for this reply! have a cookie 🍪)

i find that jotting down that scene that is nagging at your brain immediately is super helpful. and do it even if you're now writing out of order. pro-tip: writing out of order is THE best, endorphins be going crazy bc you're actually not fighting with your brain with the story but writing alongside your brain-map.

personally, i find it very difficult outlining a story (how contrary) because sometimes my mind changes ideas or switches the order of scenes, and it is exhausting trying to keep up with all of that in your outline. but i guess, my "outline" with stories is simply me jotting down a very quick summary of the plot that invaded my mind in one document, never touching it again, but staying true to it because i wrote it down. therefore, it exists no longer in the recesses of mind but it a physical statement/promise to complete.

also (this advice goes for both story and essays) it is ok to take a break, step back, and not look at your writing for some hours, days, weeks, months, years--fucking whenever.

my midterm essay? a fucking nightmare. loved the topic, would write something similar about it for fun, but the reason it took me so long to complete (and why i dragged my feet) was because of the "short" timeline i had to complete it. i felt like i was on a time crunch and that led to me procrastinating, stressing over it, and taking my grand old time researching for it. however, when i was able to work on it? i allowed myself to simply do as much as i could. if i was unable to look at that stupid document, i didn't look at it. if my mind had a really good thought or example for the topic rotating in my head? immediate sit down and get that thought onto the paper. it must exist.

i have fics sitting in my folders that have been unfinished in so long, but i still consider them as wips because (and here’s another subpart-advice) i tend to work on them when i am unable to touch my current work. to be frank, working on something else helps keep you in the writing zone even if you cannot stand to look at the blank/unfinished work you wanted to complete originally. when i was incapable of writing for the Monkie Destiny Challenge, i switched to working on writing and editing my teen wolf fic (a fic i had not looked at since July) because while i still had that itch to write, something was blocking me from completing the prompts. and when i switched fics, getting into the zone was a lot easier.

so, to recap:

when jumpstarting the writing zone for writing an essay, you get passionate (can be read as mad/spiteful), and outline your thought process of the essay with headings to keep the writing flow flowing (the headings do not need to stay in the final product but they are good to have in the draft) .

when jumpstarting story writing, write! that! shit! down!!!! chronological order doesn't mean shit when you're in the planning/writing phase. your readers don't have to know that you wrote/planned a character's death before writing/planning out the beginning. they just read it in the order you publish it in!

to keep the writing zone stable and in working condition, TAKE THOSE BREAKS BOO! who cares about your personal deadlines???? if you feel exhausted before opening up a doc, then take that break, babygirl. again, your reader(s) will not need to know (nor do they need to know) how long it took you to get your writing piece done. hell, if you still feel the itch to write but the thing you wanna do is not working, then work on something else you haven't touched in a while because that itch WILL get its scratch somewhere, so help me god.

so yeah, i hope this was helpful, anon (and coherent jfc there better not be a plethora of typos T^T). happy writing, and may your weekend be a healthy dose of eventful!

[chikoyama]

(( ok, so i’ve come across posts from people questioning why gojo is so weird when he fights jogo. like, why is he so horny about the volcano man? great, awesome question. here’s my unsolicited take on it.

warning: possible jjk s2e9 spoilers! ))

consider this: fighting is the only moment where gojo is allowed to be 100% his unhinged self, but it's rare that anything or anyone is actually able to hold up against his powers without getting immediately obliterated.

it’s akin to giving a golden retriever a toy that ends up getting destroyed bc pupper played with it a bit too vigorously. when there's no toy left, it means playtime is over. for gojo that leaves him with an overall feeling of unsatisfaction. gojo is that sad pupper who doesn't get enough endorphins released bc no 'toy' can handle him.

so, the fact that jogo can take gojo being somewhat rough towards him is enough to trigger a release of dopamin in gojo, hence the impression of arousal. (i mean.. come on, look at this. the touching, the playfulness? it's just too sensual to mean anything else. also, just to be in the clear, i'm not shipping them, lol).

tbh, i'm just trying to point out that with the immense powers this man bears, it's only natural that he is in a constant state of feeling understimulated.

tying this in with gojo's awful personality, like.. him being annoying af is probably the maximum amount of ‘normalness’ this man can muster without going insane from absolute boredom.

in reality gojo might be holding back bc he knows normal people wouldn’t be able to handle him if he were to fully unleash himself upon them. it might not seem like it, but he’s actually treating every non-enemy with as much care as he possibly can.

conclusion here is that gojo's entire personality revolves around the fact that he's finding himself constantly understimulated. in general, he's just so unimpressed that for him to even get genuinely stirred up, there needs to to be some perversion involved in the act. it just makes sense for me, okay?

so, can you blame gojo for feeling actually excited while fighting mr. volcano head? not really. but is he a freak? definitely. but honestly, shouldn't we just let this man truly enjoy himself for once. just look at how happy he is.

[fragileizywriting]

how about this how about this. how about this about knots and heats and things, that @tenshiyuna brought up a good point on my last post:

specifically i'm having a lot of trouble with the whole mating bite thing. the whole heat in general i'm having a problem with because i want luka to be going through a rut at the same time marinette is goign through a heat, and i'm kinda just shoving the two together though i'm almost positive that they're distinct usually in other fics, and i would really like to make them distinct (because then what would be the benefit of them having different names? does that make sense? like why bother naming something 'heat' or 'rut' when they're the same thing? i don't think there's any need for them to be named different things just bc one is for alphas and the other omegas if they just do the same thing. im going in circles)

anyway i want the two of them to have their own thing going on. i need to read some a/b/o (not in the fandom) so i can piece together some more ideas. but the mating bite thing, god, that one is going to be tough. it's going to be tough because i will die on the hill that kitty is a biter, so i need the mting bite to be specific enough so that it's not on accident (also i wrote myself into a corner with the recent oneshot i did in this au where i wrote saying they hadn't mated yet bc she's too shy/scared/awkward to admit that she wants to) and i need to figure out in a way that works realistically. like, realistically (i KNOW this is a/b/o, none of this matters, realistically no one is here to have this-makes-sense worldbuilding, but it's the principle, and what else is there to do? somehow, i managed to make succubi wholesome. let me have this.) a mating bte wouldn't even be good enough to... mark... ? someone? and what if it's accidental? how do erase? can they erase? are we allowed some supernatural elements in here?

tenshiyuna brought up some really good ideas about how the heat cycle(+rut cycle) works and how it goes from lucid to daze back to lucid again and it can be endorphins that clear the mind when released and then when it starts to die down and gets flushed out of the blood system, the daze comes back in. so that would mean that drinking lots of water helps with it ending quicker . hmmm. hydrating also gives a lot of slick. i'm not sure what to do with this information right now but that might be because it's 11pm and past my bedtime. i know i can make this work.

but this bite. damn, this bite. this bite has me so conflicted. how do i make this bite be so realistic? i of all people want luka to tease his fangs over the area, i really do, but what is the point? what's the world building? how does the bite specifically to the neck resolve anything??? does he have enzymes in his fangs like a snake???? that he has to inject????????? into someone????????? to bond with them??????? does it have to be the neck, can it be somewhere ese and still work??????? does it have to be something about kitty's glands needing to get punctured(???????) for her to get mated with someone?????

BOTH???????????

i'm gonna go sleep on this, but something tells me i'm not going to get ANYWHERE

[nicistrying]

My sanity is hanging by a thread today. Had a lovely day at work sat with all the girls, chatting wedding stuff and just generally having a nice time. Met my sister in law for lunch and she was just really off with me, judgmental about the wedding, has been talking to our mother in law about my IUD which frankly is no one else's fucking business. I was pissed that Matt had talked to his parents about it at the weekend when I didn't go over to their house with him bc I was in agony, but I don't need family discussions to be happening about my uterus and my choice of contraception. Matt had explained to his mam that I made the choice to be in significant physical pain rather than be mentally fucked up with paranoia, anxiety, mood swings and depression which is what happened when I took the pill. I spent years working on my mental health and finally got meds for it and didn't want to ruin it by pumping myself full of hormones. Like this was not a lightly made decision but it's the decision I made. And yes I am still going to complain about it bc it's really fucking painful and the options I was choosing between were all terrible. It's bullshit that these are the choices women have to make and then we get judged for them, by other women of all people? His mam is a fucking doctor and she often works on maternity wards!!! Like pray tell, what other magical option do I have?? Doctors would never give me permanent sterilisation bc I'm too young, likewise with a vasectomy for Matt and if he did have one his parents would go ape shit that he wasn't carrying on the family bloodline 🤢🤢🤢🤢 like why can't they just leave us alone and accept our decisions that we make in our own lives. I was thinking I should reach out to them since I haven't seen them for a few weeks but they can fuck themselves.

Anyway then went back to work for the afternoon, our systems were totally off for annual billing process so we literally couldn't do any work so I just sat ordering wedding stuff. A lil flower crown for me to try on, a load of cute little coloured glass bottles for the tables, and the cake topper. AND THEN I get home feeling a little icky, drag myself upstairs to work out and get some endorphins going, and I have to push Maggie out of my way and she fucking snaps at me?? She's been told to go to bed and we'll ignore her the rest of the night but come on dude! I didn't need this! So now I'm sitting on the floor in my gym gear about to give up ans go eat dinner with Matt instead bc I don't really have time to work out now. Urgh thank god it's Friday tomorrow. We're going for a little date night to a restaurant down by the river and I was going to invite Matt's brother and sister in law but after how she was today we'll just go by ourselves. Happy Thursday everyone!! 🤘

[fellshish]

Hi Fells, it's me, Val! <3 As a writer, do you have any tips on how to write fanfiction, especially stories? I am working on something but I am so new with this bc I have never finished/published something longer than a oneshot. Idk if there is a good way to approach organizing and building things up, and idk what is considered 'good' writing. I usually just write in a stream of consciousness, throw it all out kind of way and hope it sounds good xD

Hey mr anonymous Val! That’s a very… broad question. Nothing wrong with stream of consciousness writing btw, you can always edit later. But I hope I can help you a little. Here are some of the writing rules for fanfiction I use:

1. Have fun. This should always be priority number one, because it’s a hobby. Indulge yourself! Often what inspires you and makes you happy leads to a better story anyway because the reader can tell when you’ve had fun, if that makes sense.

2. Map out your structure. For longer stories (and sometimes shorter) I map out the important parts in a separate document. That way I always know where I’m going. Also the little notes or bits of dialogue or ideas I have for that part of the story, i copypaste underneath the relevant sections. They guide me through the actual writing. Things can still change during writing and then I just rearrange, but the skeleton of the story is there. Often I add where an important character is at that point in their emotional arc, when they evolve from one thing to another during the story.

3. Write out of order. Stuck somewhere? Write a more fun part first, then go back to your stuck place later.

4. Get yourself a good beta. Which is: an editor who guides you through your work, gives advice but also showers you with encouragement and compliments in the notes. As a non native speaker I tend to pick someone American or British for this part. Each time you finish a chapter you can send it to them for much needed endorphins and motivation to write the rest of your story (they are your first reader and need to know how it ends!).

5. Write what you want to read. Then at least you will end up with a story YOU like.

As for writing style, this is probably the most life changing advice I ever got:

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

dread | hope

i've noticed that my titles for tdj fics are much more purple-prose-y than my titles for literally every other fandom and i don't think I'm mad at it

anyway, my friend has been very excited about the got7 stuff that dropped recently so! have a fic where take gaon's self-destructive tendencies and turn them up to 15

feat. yohan and elijah who have no idea what to do with an upset gaon except shove warm things and food at him bc that's what he does when they're upset

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-destructive behavior bordering on self-harm, possible suicidal thoughts but it’s really just gaon not caring about his own well-being

Pairings: gahan, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 3983

Believe it or not, Gaon is not an idiot. 

He is naive, perhaps, in that he does not know the fine arts of stringing someone else along on puppet strings, but he is not so oblivious that he can’t feel them being pulled as he moves. Some people assume he is naive because he lets these things happen to him. He prefers to give people the benefit of the doubt, because he knows he won’t be treated as kindly without it. 

People have agendas. Agendas change. That includes him. 

Everyone wants something, and sometimes you need to to work together to get what you both want. That doesn’t make him oblivious. 

Selfish, perhaps. 

Gaon has never been good at recognizing when to stop. He pushes with questions, with actions, with words until something happens. His professor beat his motorcycle to pieces, Soohyun slapped him across the face, his parents—

Well. You get the idea. 

But Gaon knows that what he wants is reckless. He’s an adrenaline junkie, perhaps he always has been. Sure, it’s certainly gotten more self-destructive over the years, but he remembers getting scolded for being so careless with his one life. 

They never got it quite right, though.

The allure wasn’t the sensation of just getting away with something or catching himself just by the skin of his teeth. It wasn’t the sudden explosion of endorphins or the way his pulse thudded so loudly in his ears that it drowned everything else out. 

Not exactly. 

It was how much it scared him to not know what was going to happen next. It was the way his focus narrowed down to right here, right now, a split-second that could very well kill him. Even after he’d gotten away with whatever it was, it was the rush of there being consequences and him not knowing what they are. 

Balancing here, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Some might call it a need for punishment, or label him a masochist. Some might call it attention-seeking or a cry for help. Some might say it’s a desperate bid for control, one last attempt at making himself feel something. 

Gaon doesn’t care to examine it, and whenever someone asks, he brushes it aside. 

Sometimes, though, at night when he’s drunk too much to call himself rational, he thinks it might have something to do with getting secure in insecure places. Making unsafe safe. 

So when his professor tells him to spy on his new boss, Kang Yohan, Gaon doesn’t hesitate. 

Kang Yohan is dangerous. He recognizes it as soon as he walks into his office. His shoulders want to raise, he wants to grit his teeth, he wants to run. But he doesn’t, because Gaon has never run from something like this and so he stays. 

He bugs his office because if there’s one thing Gaon does too well, it is asking questions and sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. He watches the court bend effortlessly to Yohan’s will and feels Dread settle over his shoulders. He scrambles to connect dots when there are none to connect only to turn around and see a full picture that’s already finished. 

He keeps pushing. 

He digs into Kang Yohan, into his court record, into his childhood, crossing every line he can think of as he sinks his hand into jagged pits of shining crystal, all but asking them to show him something. Every time he thinks he has something, he reaches out to touch it and it’s only a reflection. He bounces wildly off of walls, smacks into more obstacles than he could imagine, and is hopelessly confused. 

He doesn’t stop. 

Even if the professor hadn’t told him to be wary of Yohan, Gaon suspects he might’ve done this anyway. Before the live court show, Yohan’s record is perfect. Abides by the lawn as it is written in every circumstance, regardless of the defendant. Gaon has never trusted a perfect record. 

Just as he knows Kang Yohan doesn’t. 

His own record is far from perfect, he knows, but it won’t explain everything. And he knows that Yohan is up to something; people don’t do things with this level of efficacy if they’re not years in the making. So he makes himself a problem. Something to be dealt with. His professor would be dismayed. 

Is it smart to pick a fight with a bad guy and hope you don’t win? Perhaps, but Gaon has never been under any delusions of winning. 

You can fight without wanting to win. 

He knows, at the very least, that he has Yohan’s attention. He’s a mess of contradictions, suspicious enough to bug his office yet throwing himself in the way of a bomb two seconds later. Reckless enough to accuse him out of nowhere yet trustful enough to gain the affection—however sparingly—of his niece and his cat. He knows Yohan needs to figure him out as much as he does. 

Maybe Yohan will be better at it. 

But Gaon doesn’t have a plan, he never does when it comes to things like this. When he wakes up in Yohan’s house of all places, he feels Dread course through his veins and he thinks he’s finished. That he will be hurt, be hidden, or something, that maybe he’s been declared dead or missing. But no, he’s here to recover. He just has to stay in his room and not wander. 

Gaon wanders. 

He knocks on doors, pries open locks, asks questions of people who make remarks about drugging him or killing him and passing them off as jokes, and watches Yohan play at being a monster. 

Perhaps he is. Gaon doesn’t care. 

Dread has a hold of him now as he stays under that roof. He knows Yohan is playing him, knows that strings are being wound slowly around his wrists, his ankles, his neck. His phone is given to him as a reward, for crying out loud. He draws it out as long as he can, feeling every bit the prey circled by a predator. 

Then he hears Yohan’s story and something shifts. 

If it’s a ploy, it’s a damned good one because it leaves Gaon speechless. He retreats, his tail tucked between his legs, an apology on his lips. Is this the end? Is this the consequence? Dread has lessened, surely, but it isn’t gone. He can’t leave now, he can tell he isn’t finished yet. 

So he tries to figure out what he can push for now. 

As it turns out, it’s what he’s been getting. It’s scraps of attention, caught in the incredibly brief moments when the masks shift. It’s the smug smirks that say there’s always something he doesn’t know, something being held just out of his reach. It’s the touches, brief and fleeting, that make the dread bubble under his skin. 

It’s what Yohan wants as well. Wants him chasing after it, off-balance, hopelessly confused, so ready and pliable to look at him to any scrap of reassurance, to be told what to do next. He can give him that.

Slowly, slowly. It starts with an apology. He’s not too proud to admit he was out of order. In return, Yohan opens the fold a little more, drawing him deeper. He cooks for Elijah, savors the feeling of watching the two eat at the table like normal people. He watches the mask slip a little more and wonders what it will feel like when it slots into place for good. 

It only escalates. There is fire, Doh Youngchoon, and a flaming stack of paper, his own hand around a man’s throat after having another illusion shattered in the bright lights of a prison yard. Part of him wonders if this is the consequence, but no, it still lingers, watching him, hands in its pockets. And when he’s cried and screamed himself hoarse, there’s a hand gently around his arm and it begins to rise again. It only grows stronger when he’s pulled roughly against a strong chest next to a burins building. When he throws away a knife that could have answered so many problems. 

He thinks of his professor’s face when he sided with Kang Yohan and Dread cuts a string loose. 

It helps that, to a certain extent, he agrees with Yohan. The system is unfair. It needs to be fixed. And sometimes you have to burn an old world to start a new one. 

If only he weren’t so selfish. 

Kim Gaon is well-practiced in the art of hiding his selfishness. He bottles up his appetites and puts them into his work and hides them perfectly. He will not take up too much space until the time comes for it. He will not use his body as his own and when he demands more, it is a pleasant and revered Pain. 

If he had his way, he would look at the banquet and eat and eat and eat until his teeth turn black and his tongue falls out of his skull. He would take his face in his hands and kiss him no matter how loud the nightmare gets. He would not move out of the way, he would not beg; he would demand and the demand would be understood. 

But he has had his fill of quick and easy hurt. Now he worries his desire into a weapon borne of famine. Dread spills over him on two fronts, a fear of what could happen if he let it run wild and a mind-numbing whisper of when, when, when. When they discover how selfish he really is and rip the carpet out from under his feet. A slower, more exquisite hurt. 

Pain is an old friend, and Gaon is determined to give Suffering a proper handshake. 

He drowns himself in restraint and paralyzes himself with want. Yohan doesn’t have to lift a finger; Gaon is well-versed in placing himself just on the edge, never taking that last step to commit. He languishes in uncertainty and makes his home where the slivers of doubt brush and prick at his back. 

And in very quiet spaces in the middle of long nights, he lets himself reach for Hope. 

Hope that maybe this will be the time he miscalculates, that maybe he can actually keep some of the good alongside Dread. That Yohan, who is as clever as the night is long, will see what he is doing and put a stop to it, one way or another. 

As with everything that’s happened with Yohan, when the other shoe drops, he doesn’t see it coming. 

He walks into the study one day to see Lawyer Ko and K standing there. They turn to look at him, grim expressions on their faces. Gaon looks back and forth between them, until his eyes land on the USB the professor gave him for information in Yohan’s hand. 

The bottom falls out of the pit in his stomach and the insatiable Dread begins to swell and swell. 

Yohan asks him to wait outside in a dangerously soft voice and Gaon nods, bowing to the three of them and retreating. He climbs the stairs in a dreaded haze as the strings tug him up limb by limb. He tries to fumble with his things but Dread has reached his hands, now, and he must sit on the edge of the bed and let it hurt. 

This…this is the part he’s been waiting for. When Dread runs tendrils through his veins and makes the puppet strings fry and disintegrate, cut him loose from any service he could have. When all he can do is sit, or stand, numb and paralyzed with a special kind of emptiness that burns. When it crawls into the spaces behind his eyes and pushes. 

He tries to lose himself in it. To drown in the familiar sting of consequence. But something is wrong. 

He’s miscalculated. 

Now he doesn’t just have the fear of looming consequence, there’s a sickeningly sweet ache in his chest that this really is it. There will be no more evenings here, no more meals and games with Elijah, no more moments where the masks of Judge Kang fall away and just Yohan is left. It hurts with a twist, one that says it won’t matter what the consequence is now, he already has one that will be worse. 

Dread tenderly wraps Suffering’s hands around Gaon’s throat and squeezes. 

He hears the door open from a mile away and Dread sharpens. It closes with a click and he can’t turn his head. He knows Yohan is in the room from a blur of color and a twist of the knife at the base of his chest. Suffering opens his ribs and waits for Pain. 

Yohan crosses the floor. He stands next to Gaon, just to the side, and waits. Silence stretches through the room. If Gaon were being selfish still, he would mumble apologies, fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, but the time for being selfish is over now. He knows this dance, knows when he needs to turn. Knows it is better to sit, paralyzed with want than to whet his appetite and forever go hungry, 

The silence stays for a long time. 

Yohan moves finally, a hand coming up to catch Gaon’s chin and tilt it upward. Gaon focuses on Yohan’s face and finds the mask perfectly in place. Something soft brushes against his cheek and only then does he realize he’s crying. Dread’s hold on him tightens as Yohan simply watches another tear fall.

“When I asked you to wait outside,” he says, “I didn’t mean come up here.”

A softer opening blow than he was expecting, but one that lodges between his ribs all the same. He whispers an apology that sounds horrible to his ears. Yohan simply tilts his head. 

“Did the sight of K and Lawyer Ko surprise you?” Gaon nods. “Do you want to know why there were here?”

No, Gaon screams as Suffering’s hands nod his head. 

“They’ve been looking into Min Jungho,” Yohan says, never looking away, “apparently his behavior has warranted some attention. They found some interesting things, not just about me, but about you.”

The room feels cold, inside and out. 

“They came to me with a worry that you were being used as a pawn, as a way for him to get to me.” Yohan’s hand shifts its grip a little on Gaon’s jaw. “And I thought: that doesn’t sound like the baby deer that nosed his way into my private life, cooking for my niece, now, does it? So I decided to do some digging of my own.”

Gaon swallows painfully as Yohan tips his chin a little higher. 

“I found something interesting,” he says, “well, technically Elijah pointed it out.”

Gaon holds his breath. 

“You don’t take very good care of yourself,” Yohan murmurs, “do you?”

When Gaon shakes his head, Yohan makes a soft noise and cradles Gaon’s chin. 

“If I could learn that from emotionless and detached records, how could a man who practically raised you not?” He tilts his head. “Then I began to wonder what would happen if he did.”

Something in Gaon screams. 

“I wonder if he sent you to me uncaring if you would be hurt or not,” Yohan says lowly, “or if he knew you would be hurt. Maybe you knew it too.”

His expression softens incrementally. 

“I’ve hurt you,” he murmurs, “haven’t I?”

He burns too much to nod but the silence is pointed. 

“Is that why you ran today? Did you think I was going to hurt you?” Gaon’s throat works against his hand. “Do you think I still will?”

Gaon can’t speak. Yohan sighs, expression still softer than it should be as he eases down on the bed next to him, hand moving to cup his cheek. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says softly, “you don’t have to look so scared.”

Yes, yes, he does, because now they’re angry at him. Dread, Suffering, Pain, they want what they came for. They want him, to carve him up, their pound of flesh. 

“How is it that made you more scared?” comes the soft tease. 

Gaon will not be teased, he wants to know what’s happening. Why Yohan isn’t hurting him. He wants to know why everything hurts and yet nothing does. 

“Gaon,” Yohan says quietly, a hand going through Gaon’s hair, “Gaon.”

“Why,” he manages to gasp out, “why?”

“Because Min Jungho miscalculated, and maybe you did too.” Yohan slips a hand around the back of Gaon’s neck. “You’re mine now, and that means you don’t get to fall into pain and get away from me.”

“Y-yours?”

The grip on the back of his neck tightens. “Aren’t you?”

Dread twists gleefully in his stomach. His throat tightens as something whispers this is a trap, this is a trap, this is a trap. 

He wants to be. Oh, god, does he? Does he want to say yes and Yohan will drag him out of this pit? Does he want to say no and fall into familiar waiting clutches? Does he want to risk what happens if he says no? Does he want to risk what happens if he says yes?

Yohan’s gaze hasn’t moved from his. He searches frantically, fruitlessly for some crack in that impenetrable facade that will give him something, any idea of what answer he might want. 

Only to find the man staring back at him isn’t as inscrutable as he’s used to. 

As his eyes dart back and forth, Yohan’s are doing the same. The hand on his neck holds him tightly, yes, but to keep him in place, as if to stop him from running away, running back into Pain. 

To keep him. 

Oh. 

Oh.

He nods slowly. 

Something in Yohan’s gaze relaxes and the grip gentles. “Good.”

Yohan is pleased. He’s pleased with Gaon’s decision. He did a good thing. He—

Oh, god, what did he just do?

“Do you need to cry,” comes Yohan’s voice, sweet and worried, “is that it?”

He cries. He tucks his head and tries not to let Yohan see but he tuts, lifting his chin again and guiding it over his shoulder. 

“No more hurting yourself like this,” he scolds without any real heat, “you need to look after yourself better.”

Gaon just sobs. Yohan holds him, soft and gentle, arms around him. Suffering retreats in confusion, Pain easing its claws from wounds, even as Dread clings stubbornly to him. Yohan seems to find it, one hand on his head, the other around his waist. 

“It’s okay now,” he murmurs, “I can take care of you. You can let me take care of you.”

“I don’t—I don’t know how,” Gaon manages. 

“Shh…you’ve done very well at taking care of me and Elijah, we can help.”

A slightly hysterical chuckle bubbles out of his throat. Out of all the things the Kangs do well, providing comfort is not one of them. Then again, Gaon is nowhere near proficient in letting himself be comforted. 

“I don’t think I’ll be very good at it.”

“You can learn.”

Another laugh. “That might take a while.”

Yohan holds him closer. “That’s okay.”

Before Gaon can tell him he might be underestimating just how bad he’s going to be at this, Elijah’s voice comes from the corridor. 

“Gaon, when are you going to start dinner? I’m hungry and Yohan’s already here, so we can…”

She comes to a sharp stop when she sees the pitiful mess he is in Yohan’s arms. Her eyes widen and she comes over as fast as she can. 

“What happened? Why are you crying? Do I need to kill someone?”

“E-Elijah—“

“Tell me what happened,” she orders, hands clenched on her wheels and her mouth drawn tight, “tell me who did this.”

The fierce pride and determination in her voice just make it worse. He was going to hurt them, he—he almost threw all of this away. He would’ve been the worst monster in the world and he was so close and he doesn’t deserve any of this. 

“What happened to him?” Oh, Elijah’s moved on to asking Yohan now. “Why is he crying so much? What did you do?”

Yohan shifts. “I scared him.”

“What did you do that for?” Yohan doesn’t flinch as she hits him on the arm but he does tighten his grip. “Don’t scare him!”

“I didn’t mean to,” he snaps back.

It’s too much. It’s too much and he can’t deal with everything and the only thing holding him up is Yohan and he’s going to collapse into more of a mess than he is right now and this is humiliating and he can’t do anything to stop it and—and—

“Why is he crying harder?”

“Well, someone did just burst in shouting.”

“You’re the one who scared him!”

“You’re still shouting!”

Gaon buries his head in the crook of Yohan’s neck and just cries. Their voices crash over his head and he spins, spinning, spinning, unspun in the wake of the maelstrom in his heart. The dam is open, gates shattered in one fell swoop and tidal waves pour out until he’s wrung dry. 

His head pounds by the time he realizes he’s gone still. They’ve stopped shouting, and he looks up to see Elijah staring at him with a mix of guilt and worry. 

“I shouldn’t have shouted,” she mutters, still looking at him. 

He shakes his head. She doesn’t need to apologize. 

“You should drink something warm,” she says, “it will help. I’ll go make it.”

“I can help,” Yohan says, starting to stand but Gaon won’t let him. 

“No,” Elijah says, already turning and wheeling away, “you once set the coffee maker on fire.”

Gaon snorts into Yohan’s shoulder as the man makes an affronted noise. He shifts again as if to pull away, but Gaon just latches on tighter. If Yohan wants to keep him, he’s going to get him in all his needy, whiny, pathetic, clingy glory. The chest under him sighs and a hand runs over his head again. 

“You must be hungry,” comes the soft voice, “should I make dinner too?”

Gaon shakes his head. “I can do it.”

“You need to learn how to let yourself be taken care of.”

“And Elijah’s making me tea.” Gaon pulls back enough to look up at him. “Shouldn’t I learn slowly?”

Yohan huffs, shaking his head. He’s warm. His hand brushes the hair back from Gaon’s face. Gaon leans into it. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says after a pause. 

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for…” Gaon gestures around. “…this.”

“For what, crying on me, being manipulated by your old professor, or the state of the live court show?”

“...yes?”

A scoff and a chiding tug on his hair. “You don’t need to apologize for the world, Kim Gaon.”

I don’t?

As if he can hear the thought, Yohan’s expression softens and he stands, slowly bringing Gaon with him. “Come on. Elijah will be wondering where you are.”

“You—“ Yohan pauses, looking at him— “you’re really alright with me staying?”

“Yes,” Yohan says softly, “you can stay. Now come on.”

A different feeling tingles in the wounds left by Dread’s claws as Yohan helps him down the stairs. He breathes a little easier as Elijah passes him a warm mug and snaps at Yohan to get out of the way. His hands don’t hurt when he pulls the ingredients out of the fridge and smiles at the way uncle and niece bicker across the table. 

“Did you really set the coffee maker on fire?”

“Yes,” Elijah chirps. 

“Yah!”

As he sets the food on the table and Yohan makes him sit down before anyone eats anything, he thinks he might know what this feeling is. 

Hope. 

[toxicshumai]

How about all of the characters and vanilla (because apparently vanilla is a kink nowadays and I'm one of the most vanilla person you could ever meet). You don't need to do all of them if it's too much, you can just pick whoever you feel like talking about but I'm curious what you think 👀

Have a great day my queen ♡

nah man LET'S GOOOOO. I'm gonna do the dateables in a separate post bc this is already way too long

Send me an Obey Me character(s) and a kink and I’ll leak my thoughts

Lucifer: He's a canonical sadist and seems to enjoy a brat taming but he's not going to initiate any kind of scene unless he has enough time and energy to give 110%. He takes that responsibility seriously. Since he's overworked and sleep deprived most sex is going to be vanilla. If he's especially tired, he'll probably get lost in how good he feels and cum prematurely. If you're topping just fuck him through it and he'll feel wonderfully relaxed and exhausted. If he's topping, he'll be mortified and then use his hands to get you off as many times as you can handle to compensate. Vanilla sex is vulnerable for Lucifer and his favorite part is foreplay when he can just run his hands and lips over your body and feel your warm skin against his. It reminds him that you're alive and chose him.

Mammon: Subby boy. Soft brat. Mammon is eager and tends to get ahead of himself so he's going to want to speedrun all of your shared kinks almost immediately. He buys toys, lingerie, candles, restraints, different lubes, you name it. Partly because of Mammon's Too Much Gene and partly because thinks if he can keep the sense of novelty going, you won't get bored and leave him. Make him slow down. Take him apart slowly, treat him like something delicate and precious. Spread him out under you so he can't hide his blush or expression of pure adoration. Look into his eyes and hold his hand while you slide into/onto him slowly. He'll cry after and probably during (though he'll deny it) but it's only from the intense emotional catharsis. The other side of this coin is goofy established relationship sex where you're both giggling from endorphins, teasing each other, and fully indulging in each other's bodies. Mammon will give you a dopey lovesick smile the whole time.

Levi: You're going to have to work this poor man up to penetrative sex but he's a fiend for mostly-clothed hand stuff while you're both in his bedtub. We all know Levi has a degradation kink and most likely hentai brainrot but he's not going to bring that up in the bedroom without a lot of prompting and time together. Vanilla sex makes him feel so much more exposed that roleplay or d/s power dynamics because he doesn't have a roadmap. He has to just be himself and be in the moment and that's terrifying. On the other hand, nothing compares to the rewards of submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known. He's going to need a ton of aftercare after vanilla sex or he'll get lost in his head and the endorphin dump will fuck him right up.

Satan: I hc Satan as being less experienced than his other brothers partly because he's been alive the least amount of time and partly because he's not going to let his guard down around just anyone. Also he has high standards. He's also a romantic who reads too many romance novels and erotica. Satan would watch Hallmark movies with Asmo. So this man? Loves vanilla sex. Playful sex with an established partner, sweaty desperate quickies, and slow sensual marathon sex are his jam. Woo him a little. Light some candles (actually maybe use some LED ones given that his room is a fire hazard), take your time kissing and working him up, tell him you love him and how happy you are to be his. Also, I hc that he has a lot of wall sex because his bed is full of books. Favorite position is for you to drape yourself across his back and fuck him hard and deep while he ruts against a pillow.

Asmo: Yes, he'll do vanilla but he needs to show off the entire time. Deepthroating, making you squirt, bending himself into ridiculous positions, etc. Praise him but bring his focus back to the connection you share; he doesn't need to impress you or perform for you. He doesn't have to win you over because he already has you. Kiss the back of his hand, his palm, and each one of his fingertips while you tell him you just want to be close to him and make him feel good. He's going to be clingy after.

Beel: Ohh softe boi. I don't think Beel has a lot of kinks so you end up having vanilla sex by default. He likes how domestic missionary feels unless you're much shorter or smaller than him, in which case he prefers you on top so he can actually look you in the eye and not worry about crushing you. I think Beel is very easy to please. Some mostly-clothed heavy petting and making out followed by snacks and he's happy. Full-on penetrative sex is less frequent because if he tops he's a stretch and if he bottoms uhh having to void first makes him hungry and then he just needs to eat.

Belphie: You want him to stay awake for sex? Not even a little somnophilia? Ohhh jail. Jail for MC. He's going to be very soft once he realizes you're not up to play with his brat persona. He wants to have sex lying on your sides either facing each other with your leg hooked over his hip or spooning you and leisurely thrusting while rubbing your clit/dick. If he bottoms, he's going to whine to be facedown in the pillows but keep an eye on him to make sure he stays awake. You can fuck him in missionary but he'll pout if you don't massage his legs after.

[silversatoru]

Dabi + drugging please

join the dark content mini event!!!

i combined this w someone else’s request of dabi + noncon bc they go together really well <333

dabi + drugging + noncon

tw: nsfw 18+, dark content, drugging, noncon/dubcon, absolute scumbag dabi, impact play, spitting, and im gonna say it again: very heavy noncon warning here!!!!

wc: 1.2k

dabi’s favorite pastime is hanging out in dingy bars and keeping a watchful eye on absolute train-wrecks like you. messy little things who drink a little too much a little too often all in the name of “stress-relief”. none of you are ever cognizant enough to notice the tabs he drops into your drinks while he swoons you with a deep voice and half-lidded eyes. and it worked on you too, your hand scooping up your drink so you could take another lengthy sip — if only you knew what was about to hit you. 

when your senses came flooding back to you, you were in a dirty looking apartment, your eyes hazy and unable to focus properly. your entire body ached, each of your limbs feeling as if they weighed several tons as you struggled and failed to move them. weren’t you just at the bar? with that dark haired boy? the one with the pretty blue eyes and weird scars? where were you? 

your breath hitched in your throat when a figure appeared in front you, familiar shaggy hair and icy eyes looking down at you with unsettling intention. a dull pounding echoed through the back of your head, and no matter how hard you tried to move any part of your body, it was as if you were frozen — trapped in a horrible nightmare and plagued with sleep paralysis. 

“hey sweetheart, glad to see you’re finally awake. i was getting a little impatient”

his voice sounded like it was echoing from hundreds of miles away, as if your head was submerged in a tank of water and he was calling to you from the outside. you could barely even make sense of his words, your head spinning in circles when you finally processed what he said and realized just how much trouble you were in right now. you could feel the cool air on every inch of your skin, and you suddenly became aware of the fact that not a single article of clothing was left on your body. 

your eyes must have widened in shock and realization, because a low chuckle rumbled from his chest in response. 

“don’t look so shocked, doll; you were practically begging for me to bring you back here tonight”

you were what? sure you had a few drinks and maybe participated in some tipsy flirting, but you certainty didn’t ask to be here — especially not like this. but it’s not like you could fight back, your body was utterly useless right now — so the best you could do was utter a helpless “n- no”. 

“no? if that word held any significance to me we wouldn’t be here right now”

his words made the blood in your veins turn to ice, chilling you to your core and causing a few hot tears to well up in your eyes. and then your fear spiked an all time high when the scarred man straddled over you and you felt something brush against your abdomen. even in your doped-up state you had enough sense to know what it was, your stomach twisting into an assortment of knots. 

“just keep quiet, okay? don’t wanna have to pump anymore shit into you, it’s a lot of work. so just let me enjoy this, yeah?”

even though you expected it, nothing could have prepared you for the painful stretch of his cock forcing its way inside of you. his head rolled back in immediate pleasure while your body instinctively twitched in pain and emitted several pathetic whimpers. after all, this wasn’t for you, it was for him — and he couldn’t care less about making sure you were ready.

it was pitiful, the way you laid on your back with your eyes rolling around in your skull while he picked up a brutal pace right from the start. and he knew he told you to be quiet, but your feeble moans and choked-out whimpers were too damn pretty for him to get angry with you. it almost made it sound like you were enjoying it — twisted bitch.

between the drugs and the rush of endorphins from his cock railing into your hips, you were on another fucking planet — tongue lolling out of your mouth and slow strings of drool dripping down onto his bed.

a harsh hand came down on your face, just barely bringing you back for a fraction of a second.

“close your mouth, whore, you’re making a fuckin’ mess”

you didn’t have the mind to understand his command right now, your head lazily rolling to the other side with your tongue still dangling out. dabi seemed to realize that his scolding had very little effect on you, mumbling a quiet “dumb fuckin’ bitch” and carrying on.

your instinctual whimpers and the dull noise of dabi’s balls slapping your ass with each thrust were the only sounds in the shabby apartment — along with the occasional insult being spewed from his mouth.

you cunt was sopping now, coating itself in a gooey lubricant to accommodate for dabi’s lengthy member abusing your walls. and god does it feel good when you flinch, when your caverns clench around his cock and threaten to milk him for everything he has. he knows it’s not intentional, he knows you don’t have half the brain to tease him like that on purpose right now, but he still delivers a firm slap to your thigh or a wad of saliva to your chest each time you do it. you’re too out of your mind to notice though, resembling a sex toy more than a human at this point.

he uses you for everything that you’re worth, abusing you like you were nothing but a warm sleeve for his cock to fuck — and honestly that’s all he saw you as. when he finally reached his peak and your walls convulsed around him again it sent him diving into a heavy orgasm. thick white semen dousing your insides and getting smeared against your cervix as he fucked you through it.

by the time he pulled out your swollen cunt was leaking with globs of white, dabi cursing about how much of a fucking mess you were making for him to clean up.

and then he got you dressed — failing to even be considerate enough to clean you up first — and dumped you back at the bar he found you at. at least he was considerate enough to do that! he could have left your sorry ass in the alley behind his apartments! at least here there was a slight chance your shitty friends would find you here and take you home.

and then he went back home and slept on the couch — cause he was way too lazy to clean off his bed right now. plus he needed to get some serious rest so he could do this all again tomorrow.

[tickle-bugs]

Incentive

Summary: Eleanor refuses to do the worksheet that Chidi’s assigned--not out of her usual stubbornness, but out of an overwhelming case of the butterflies. Simone provides an incentive that Eleanor can’t refuse. 

I got assigned my darling @peachytickles!!!!! PEACH!!!! I hope you like this bc they’ve been in my head rent!!!! free!!!!!! Happy wooluhwoo month I love you endlessly <33 Huge thank you to @ticklishraspberries for organizing Femslash Feb!! This was an absolute blast :D

“Eleanor, you’re being ridiculous.” Chidi crossed his arms.

“Don’t care. I’m not doing it.” Eleanor slid the sheet of paper back towards Chidi.

“Eleanor-”

“Say my name again and I’ll start throwing stuff, I swear.” She glared at him but he didn’t flinch. 

“Simone needs this data for her study.” He slid the worksheet towards Eleanor, leaving his hand pressed down on the paper so she couldn’t fling it off the desk. Rude. 

“Perhaps we could do it together? I’m never averse to a good study sesh.” Tahani beamed, tucking her fancy pen behind her ear. 

“I’ll pass.” Eleanor slipped out of the classroom, a sour taste on her tongue. 

It’s not that she didn’t want to be helpful--she really did want to be more than the mean lady who sold scams to the elderly--but they were asking far too much of her.

Picture a person that you deeply care for. Answer the following with that person, and that person only, in mind.

She couldn’t even get past the first question without Simone’s stupid beautiful face overwhelming her. Her crush was easy to manage at first, but it had grown into an unavoidable monster over the last few weeks. The other day, Eleanor had heard Simone’s laugh in the other room and snapped a pencil in the middle of a lecture. She drifted off at night imagining Simone wrapping her up in her arms and worming her fingers beneath her shirt, whispering teases into Eleanor’s sensitive ears. 

God, she was so forking screwed. 

Her legs drew her to Simone’s door, hovering just outside the door frame. She was clearly deep in thought--she had a habit of biting her lip when she concentrated. 

“Knock knock,” Eleanor accompanied the phrase with the gesture, immediately cringing at her own corniness. 

“I’d say ‘who’s there’ but, well, I already know the answer. Come in.” Simone waved her in with a smile.

“I’m not doing the worksheet.” Eleanor shoved her hands in her pockets, glaring a hole through Simone’s forehead. 

“Okay.” Simone resumed her typing. Huh.

“It’s dumb and way too personal.” 

“...okay.” Simone raised her eyebrow.

“You can get your data from the others. I’m not doing it.” Eleanor spun on her heel and stormed towards the door. Don’t let me leave, don’t let me leave, don’t let me-

“What if I offered a reward?” Simone pushed her chair out and stood. Eleanor whirled around.

“What could you possibly-”

“I’ll give you tickles until you tap out.” Simone said, oozing nonchalance, as if she hadn't dropped an earth-shattering statement.

“Wh--why would I want that?” Eleanor cursed herself for the break in her voice. 

“Okay, not going to point out the obvious in your behavior for the past forever, but it’s pretty obvious you’re a physically affectionate person. Tickling isn’t that uncommon of a desire, y’know? You crave closeness with the people you care about, but the study is getting in the way, and this worksheet is your latest enemy. I get it, Eleanor. It’s not weird.” Simone leaned on her desk, smiling warmly, and Eleanor couldn’t for the life of her get her vocal chords to function. 

“You don’t have to do it. I’m just giving you an incentive. It’s up to you if you finish the sheet.” Simone held out the folded worksheet, waving it a little in encouragement. Eleanor snatched it and shoved it in her pocket, cheeks burning. 

“Whatever,” Eleanor mumbled, speeding out of the room before she could do anything embarrassing, like agreeing to Simone’s terms. Though, she supposed she already had. 

Ah, fork. 

                                          -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Come in.” Simone took a loud slurp of her smoothie--probably pineapple, judging by the color--and took a few more clacks at her keyboard before looking up. Eleanor held the crumpled worksheet out towards her, cheeks blazing pink, and Simone took it, brushing Eleanor’s fingers with her own. 

“Thank you.” Simone beamed, skimming through her answers. She murmured the answers aloud in an incoherent blur, pausing between irrelevant words to make quiet noises of approval. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“I believe I promised you a reward.” Simone rounded the desk, positively sparkling with playfulness. 

“Yep.” Eleanor coughed, shuffling backwards a little.

“Any ideas for a safe word?” Simone put her hands on her hips, tilting her head slightly.

“Do we need one?” Eleanor didn’t mean to squeak, she really didn’t, but the sight of Simone stretching and cracking her fingers was nearly too much for her to handle.

“Well, yeah! Otherwise I’d be stopping every time you said ‘stop’ or ‘no’ and I assume that’s going to happen quite a bit.”

“How about...neuron?” Eleanor’s knees hit the back of the couch--couch? How’d they cross the room so fast?--and she fell with an oomf. Simone climbed on top of her, settling her weight firmly across Eleanor’s thighs.

“Perfect.” Simone grinned down at her, fingers poised.

Oh man. Oh man. 

“Where are you ticklish? I’m sure I’ll figure it out myself, but you could give me a few hints.” Simone swooped her fingers in, just barely skimming Eleanor’s t-shirt, and she squealed, hiding her face behind her hands. She’d imagined this for months, hypothesized what that word would sound like falling from Simone’s smirking lips, but nothing could ever compare to this. 

“No,” Eleanor squeaked, peeking between her fingers.

“No? Then you leave me no choice.” Simone sighed, fingers latching onto Eleanor’s ribs like magnets. Eleanor burst into squeaky cackles, arching hard into the sofa. 

“S-Sim--” 

“Sound it out, you can do it. Si-mone.” She vibrated her fingers into the divots between Eleanor’s ribs. 

“Stop!”

“I’m barely even touching you!” Simone laughed, trailing her fingers up and down her ribcage like a xylophone. Eleanor shimmied in place, elbows pressed firmly to her sides, but she couldn’t block out Simone’s accursed fingers. 

“T-Tickles!” A strange gurgling noise escaped from Eleanor’s throat and her next bout of laughter turned deeper, more desperate. 

“Well yeah, Captain Obvious.” Simone launched a flurry of pinches and pokes across Eleanor’s stomach, paying careful attention to the spots that made her fold and twist.

“Hmm, we’ve hit some good spots, but we’re missing something here. Are you sure you don’t want to tell me?” Simone leaned close, close enough for Eleanor to smell her perfume, and god she was going to die here, under the tickly touches of the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She deserved Good Person Points for this. Not even the strongest soldier would survive being able to see the slight gloss of Simone’s chapstick without completely falling apart. 

“N-No!” She bucked until she flipped herself over. Simone tipped back, grabbing the back of Eleanor’s leg for balance, and she squealed. 

“I am absolutely going to need you to do that again,” Simone whispered, eyes wide. Eleanor turned to protest, but Simone already pinned down her left leg, scribbling over the back of her knee. Eleanor was beyond grateful for the way the couch cushions muffled her screamy, hiccupy giggles. If anyone else heard her, she’d die on the spot. 

“You are the worst-”

“That’s not very nice. I am giving you what you wanted, y’know.” Simone scratched one finger in the dead-center of the pit of Eleanor’s knee. She screeched, kicking wildly, and caught Simone in the shoulder a few times with her heel. She twisted hard, nearly taking both of them to the floor, but she ended up dangling off of the couch, with Simone still anchoring her lower half to the cushions. 

“Rude,” Simone scoffed, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye, and Eleanor suddenly became very aware of the way her shirt had slid up to reveal bare skin. 

“Wait, nonono-”

“I think you owe me an apology,” Simone singsonged, slowly wiggling her fingers just over Eleanor’s skin. Every once in a while, she’d trail her fingers lightly over Eleanor’s stomach just to watch her muscles quiver with panicky, anticipatory giggles. 

“Fork off-”

“Nono, try something like…’Simone is the greatest ever’. That has a nice ring to it, yeah?” Simone smoothed her hands over Eleanor’s skin, taking firm hold of her waistline, and when it appeared she had nothing to say past a protestive scrunch of the nose, Simone squeezed. 

“No!” Eleanor’s laughter overtook her as she batted at Simone’s hands, stuck in a loop of laughter-filled sit-ups while she tried to free herself from Simone’s hands. 

“Again with the rudeness. I’m wounded, Eleanor.” Simone held one hand over her heart while the other pressed into a particularly devastating spot on her side. Eleanor lunged, latching onto Simone’s hands. 

“Gotcha.” Eleanor grinned. 

“Checkmate.” Simone twisted her wrists until Eleanor’s grip faltered, drinking in the look of panic on her face before plunging her hands under her arms. 

“N-Neuron!” Eleanor wheezed, tapping Simone’s wrist. Simone hauled her back up onto the couch, rubbing a soothing hand over her leg. 

“Are you okay?” Simone leaned down to catch Eleanor’s gaze, searching for any unease or discomfort in her expression. 

“Yes! Yeah, that was perfect.” Eleanor ran a hand through her frizzed-out hair, laughing a little in disbelief. The gentle burn of laughter in her chest felt incredible. She let Simone help her up and lead her to the door, absolutely floating on endorphins. 

“This doesn’t have to be a one time thing. My door is always open.” Simone leaned forward, little by little, until they were nose to nose. She tilted her head, eyes flicking down to Eleanor’s lips, as if asking for permission. Oh. Eleanor quickly kissed her before she could squander the opportunity. 

So the smoothie was pineapple. Nice. 

“Y-Yeah. No problemo.” Eleanor cleared her throat, grinning like an idiot. She pecked Simone on the nose, emboldened by dopamine, and slid out of the office. It wasn’t until the door clicked shut behind her that she registered what had just happened. 

“No problemo? Really?” Eleanor hissed, smacking herself in the forehead, but there was a little bounce in her step as she made her way down the hall. 

[jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists]

🥳🌈🐸 FIC WRITER TAG GAME🐸🌈🥳

hello everyone! i was tagged by the absolutely lovely @palimpsessed to take part in this, so here i go!

(ps i’m not gonna tag anyone, just say i tagged you if you see this and wanna take part ;p) ((pps i’m actually gonna tag @faeryphilia and @mostlymaudlin tho. my babes <3 my mutuals <3 my dears <3)) (((ppps you can still say i tagged you. muah have a nice day :3)))

How many works do you have on AO3?

21 works :) although, some of them are just rants and thank you letters, so i don’t think they all count :)

What’s your total AO3 word count?

about 60,082 words!! holy shit balls!! that’s crazy!!

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

one so far; which is carry on. i do plan to write for other fandoms tho ;p

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Cool Runnings and Sucking Cock {E}

Hey, Bartender? {E}

How Many? {E}

Vibrators, Breakfast, Goats, and More! They Got It All At The Copier Store! {E}

Monsters Under The Bed (And Outside Of It) {T}

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

of course yes! i absolutely love when i get interaction from my froglings!! 🐸 it’s a huge endorphin high anytime i get so much as a kudos! i love you all so much :D 🥰

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Well, Then You Burn {M}. It’s a major character death, so it’s pretty dang sad. it hurt me to write and i hope it hurts you to read :D

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

no, but i fear it constantly. i look back at some of my stuff and honestly? the shit i say to myself is already bad. i don’t think anyone could say something worse.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

it’s practically all i write, bestie. i am a whore. a slutty frog, if you will. i’ll write pretty much anything, but i do prefer to have some d/s undertones or just straight up bdsm. i am an unholy frog, but i also like my sweet and fluffy making love sessions too.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i fucking hope i have. that’d be the biggest damn compliment. or the biggest insult. like, oh i’m so good someone stole from me haha 😎. or they thought i was so irrelevant they could get away with it 😞. yknow?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

not as far as i’m aware, but if so, let me know!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, but i’m totally down to work with anyone! i am going to be beta-ing for @angelsfalling16 tho, so that’s super cool! hit me up if you need absolutely anything to do with fics and i’ll try my best to be helpful! i’m sinful, but i’m a good mother frog 🐸 😌

What’s your all time favorite ship?

depends on what i’m obsessed with. rn it’s snowbaz, but it used to be hinny.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

yikes there’s so many. i have over 100 wips in progress rn but i’m too scared to talk about them bc i don’t want to ruin the surprise when i post, and my fic for the carry on too many aus fest is really kicking my ass. i have no idea how i’m going to get it out in time and i’m terrified i won’t be able to. IM NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE AND POSTING IS TOMORROW WTF

What are your writing strengths?

no fucking clue. i mean, i THINK im good at dialogue? maybe?

What are your writing weaknesses?

fuck plot. i hate plot. plot can suck my ass. why can’t i just write dialogue and have people understand the picture in my head??? why am i so specific and picky about word count??? why do i hate simplicity???

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

i’ve done it before and will most likely do it again! i’m not fluent in anything other than english, though, so if i ever mess up, make sure to tell me!

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

so, that’s a good question. the first fandom i ever wrote for was dora the explorer. i’ve been writing fanfic for a LOOONG time. the first fandom i ever PUBLISHED for was carry on. i was sitting in the hospital, writing away, and i thought ‘huh. i should publish this.’ and that was that.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

i don’t have a favorite fic that’s published, but i sure as fuck have a favorite. it’s a long and grueling process and i’ve spent so much time with it, but i love it and i love the concept. it’s not even close to done, but i’m still excited.

[nicistrying]

Sunday 8th October

I know I've barely posted any fitness stuff - was having trouble with my back and really trying to go easy with that, and also just had so much going on, work has been pretty terrible and family drama is really getting on my nerves. So this weekend I'm trying to do a bit of self care and get myself back up and at it!

We had my nephew over last night and we had a lovely time - watched Harry Potter, ate lasagne, played board games. He played with Maggie lots too which made me so happy bc she was always v wary of him. She's growing up to be such a good, loving girl. She just takes a while to trust people.

Met up with my sister and her partner to drop him off this afternoon and had lunch with them, then went grocery shopping and came home to decompress. I went too far and started getting sad so got myself up for a workout. I've been feeling my bum just slowly turning to mush so went for legs and core to try to keep some strength in my back after having issues with it. This workout felt awesome and gave me the endorphins I needed. Feeling great now, in the bath about to have some supper and an early night 😌

Didn't have time for hip thrusts but also didn't want to go too crazy anyway so didn't mind missing them