#help me his name is no dumb but I'm attached to it

[hoseoksluna]

LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for. 

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift. 

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too. 

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed. 

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight. 

You couldn’t. 

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair. 

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words. 

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely. 

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis. 

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed. 

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.” 

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it. 

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.” 

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable. 

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?” 

You exhaled, he inhaled. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek. 

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in. 

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.” 

Your body panics, but you will it to relax. 

“Does that come with the premium subscription?” 

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps. 

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms. 

“I get to take Bam?” 

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?” 

Probably not. Definitely not. 

“But what about Bam?” 

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words. 

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.” 

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell. 

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it. 

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.” 

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly. 

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows. 

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead. 

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it. 

Jungkook groans. 

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity. 

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back. 

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body. 

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers. 

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline. 

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it. 

You want him. 

It began with a ring and ended right here. 

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled. 

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss. 

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t. 

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago. 

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you. 

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper. 

Jungkook grips your waist hard. 

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy. 

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples. 

“Kiss me, then.” 

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth. 

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step. 

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.” 

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles. 

“Bam, house.” 

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that. 

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him. 

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.” 

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him. 

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists. 

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.” 

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?” 

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them. 

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list. 

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course. 

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.” 

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.” 

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting. 

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?” 

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact. 

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?” 

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties. 

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.” 

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.” 

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.” 

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself. 

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him. 

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears. 

No attachment, no liking. 

Just sex. 

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm. 

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.” 

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted. 

You broke him. 

And now you have to face the repercussions. 

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal. 

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all. 

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.” 

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have. 

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it. 

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break. 

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in. 

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm. 

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is. 

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid. 

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening. 

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning. 

A lump forms in your throat. 

“You sure about this?” he asks. 

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship. 

Flowery or deceitful? 

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.” 

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you. 

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps. 

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.” 

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.” 

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened. 

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum. 

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him. 

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun. 

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin. 

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing. 

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself. 

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long. 

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?” 

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice. 

“Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.” 

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline. 

“Are you scared?” 

You’re an empty canvas. 

“Not anymore.” 

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?” 

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.” 

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt. 

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set. 

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy. 

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks. 

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.” 

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie. 

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?” 

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?” 

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod. 

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child. 

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs. 

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red. 

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them. 

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach. 

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?” 

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.” 

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?” 

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy. 

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features. 

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good. 

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.” 

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens. 

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs. 

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you. 

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear.  “How do you touch yourself?” 

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat. 

Jungkook sees you. 

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer. 

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” 

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind. 

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax. 

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side. 

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise. 

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips. 

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you. 

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.” 

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.  

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you. 

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around. 

“Feels good, baby?” 

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.” 

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.” 

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring. 

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?” 

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted. 

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff. 

“Did so well for me.” 

The whisper takes you back and you awake. 

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good. 

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.   

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?” 

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change. 

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.” 

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth. 

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy. 

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks. 

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration. 

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.” 

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is. 

Musk, vanilla, wood. 

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout. 

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew. 

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.” 

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?” 

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do. 

You open your mouth, but no words come out. 

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos. 

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts. 

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully. 

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?” 

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.” 

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.” 

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number. 

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?” 

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.” 

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare. 

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him. 

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?” 

You nod. “So bad.” 

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough. 

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?” 

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.” 

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?” 

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.” 

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance. 

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth. 

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him. 

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again. 

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go. 

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge. 

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore. 

Neither, evidently, can he. 

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands. 

So vulnerable. 

You ache. 

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head. 

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth. 

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets. 

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny. 

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head. 

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.” 

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan. 

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind. 

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin. 

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?” 

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it. 

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans. 

“Talk to me.” 

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk. 

He stares you down. 

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling. 

“I won’t play with you, then.” 

Panic. “No.” 

He cocks a brow at you. “No?” 

Silence. 

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm. 

“Jungkook.” 

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs. 

“Beg.” 

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you. 

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

You groan in frustration. 

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.” 

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it. 

“Where?” 

A challenge. Your throat dries up. 

“There.” 

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that. 

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.” 

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone. 

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that. 

“Lick my clit, please.” 

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.  

“Like this?” 

You choke out a moan. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?” 

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy. 

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.” 

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you. 

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens. 

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you. 

Daddy and little girl. 

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls. 

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror. 

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat. 

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.” 

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell. 

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?” 

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin. 

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed. 

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth. 

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens. 

“But what if it doesn’t fit?” 

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake. 

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.” 

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected. 

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him. 

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow. 

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head. 

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him. 

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.” 

You nod, trusting him. 

He pecks you. Smiles. 

“How many orgasms are we at?” 

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?” 

“You obliterated my expectations.” 

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.” 

You blush, eyes twinkling. 

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.” 

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad. 

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness. 

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss. 

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel. 

“I don’t stop coming.” 

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?” 

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?” 

You scoff. “Just one.” 

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?” 

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently. 

He didn’t break his promise. 

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides. 

And there you feel it. 

The sensation unlike any other. 

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?” 

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms. 

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.” 

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come. 

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you. 

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?” 

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep. 

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth. 

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much. 

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.” 

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam. 

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.” 

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.” 

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak. 

“Please, come for me.” 

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?” 

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.” 

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat. 

Jungkook grunts. 

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.” 

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length. 

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all. 

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way. 

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all. 

“Good girl. Good little princess.” 

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?” 

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes. 

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

[smallestapplin]

Hello! you can make Yandere Blurr, Pharma and Tyrest x Cybertronian female reader wife

I always did like them crazy. Also I apologize I don't feel confident in writing Tyrest, even reading and reading his wiki I can't get a good read on his character QwQ

🔞Warnings : toxic behavior, threats, talks of harm, implied noncon, past murder. I wrote little scenarios too ^^ 🔞

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Blurr

- Blurr is a puppy, if you could place him in a category. He is always so happy to see you, always at your side attached to your hip, and if he's on a mission he gets it done in record speeds just to run back to base for you, yelling your name and tackling you into a hug.

- He's so sickeningly sweet to you, always showing up for you, helping you work, and always does something spontaneous to keep you on your pedes!

- You'd never believe a soul that Blurr could harm friends or allies, not unless you saw it for yourself. He is always such a sweetie, and the reason you agreed to bond your spark to his.

- You even told Bee you just couldn't believe him without evidence "I know Blurr can get a bit sassy, but threaatening to crush your spark in his servos? That's just not like him."

- Blurr knows this, he's not dumb, he knows you placed your blind trust and faith in him, and he will do whatever it takes to keep it that way. It's why he glares, snaps, and makes snide comments to any boy getting too close to you. Even puts on the waterworks, crying about how mean the bot you finished speaking to is, just to make you comfort him and avoid that bot unless for work.

- He loves you, he loves you so so much and never fails to tell you or show you.

- But sometimes it's overwhelming, you never get a moment to yourself, you are never alone to collect your thoughts or to process your feelings on anything, Blurr is right there, cooing at you and nuzzling his helm into your neck cables.

- Even though you're tired, you never ask him to leave you alone, last time you sighed and asked for space he was sobbing, clinging to you harder, pleading with you to not leave or abandon him, that he can't live without you.

- "I want you, i need you! I-I can't live without you! I don't know what I'd do without you- pleasepleaseplease don't leave me, I love you!" Over and over and over again. It had you worried and guilt ridden, leaving you to never mention space again.

- You even apologized to him after that, never meaning to upset him.

- It's like he's draining your battery dry, sucking away your life force.

- But you stay by his side like a dutiful wife, helping him on missions when it's needed, smiling when he comes back, kissing him any chance you get.

- You feel like you're drowning in his love, suffocating you.

- Even as you lay in your shared berth, wide awake, Blurr sleeps in a peaceful stasis laying on top of you.

You sigh, your neck cables stiff from such a long time staring at your data pad and working on reports, but you're glad you got a large chunk of it done, you can finally go to your habsuite and relax.

Your spark clenches at the sound of rapidly approaching pedesteps. You try to hide your exhaustion, just in time to turn around and get a blue glob lunging for you.

You catch your husband with ease, use to his antics by now.

"Ohhhh I missed you so much! The mission was terribly boring but nothing I couldn't handle. Have you eaten yet? I want to have energon with you."

He speaks so fast, excitement showing in his words.

"M'sorry Blurr, I was just about to go to our habsuite and go down for a cycle. Prowl has been on my aft about reports, and I'm tiring."

He looks so crushed, his face plate a mix of sadness and rage.

"He's so pushy and such a workaholic! I have half a processor to go into his office and give him a piece if my brain module! I can't believe that guy, pushing my poor wife for his stupid reports."

He goes on such a long rant about Prowl, pointing out everything the bot has done wrong or the frankly harsh things he's said, you hate to admit that Blurr has a point but you are fond of Prowl.

He's rough around the edges but a nice friend to you when he opens up.

"Blurr, sweetie, it's fine really. Prowl has been swamped with reports and I don't mind helping. He's actually a nice bot once you get through his walls."

Blurr's expression looks like you just shot him. He clings to you, digits practically sinking into your back strut.

"Y-you've been hanging out with him without me?"

"It's just for work. Blurr, you know I love you and would never dream of leaving you, but I'd like to have some friends, even if they are just work friends."

Your spark aches at the sight of his optics welling up with liquid.

You just know you're going to have to start comforting him and avoid Prowl at all costs if it makes him this upset.

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Pharma

- lying to yourself in hopes you'd believe it. Pharma is a menace, you tried so hard to be kind to him, yet your kindness is what lead you here, bound to him in everything but your spark, it's at least the only thing he can't force upon you, no matter how many times he opens your spark chamber.

- No matter how many times he's tried to force the bond, always so calmly muttering his love for you, it never works.

- You once had such a fiery spirit, such a fiercely protective and loyal bot before Pharma got his servos on you. He broke you. The last time you managed to escape him and find help, he just killed them, toyed with them for fun no matter how much begged him to spare them. New parts for him.

- You never forgave yourself for being the reason those innocent bots met their ends, and Pharma takes great pleasure in that. You curl into such a cute ball and silently cry yourself into stasis, with him right behind you, curling around you and buring his face plate into the back of your neck. You want to scream, to sob, to upchuck and empty your tanks at the disgust of feeling his touch. His arms around your waist, holding you so tenderly, rubbing his thumb across your mesh like he's been an adoring lover this entire time.

- If you leave he will just find you.

- "What, you're not going to run again? My, but it was such a fun game we played!" He laughs.

- Pharma flips between knowing you don't love him in return, but not caring as he loves you and that's all that matters, to having moments of truly believing you're just playing games with him, such a playful darling he has! You just want to keep your marriage exciting, right?

- You try to lie to yourself, that you do love him, you love being at his side, you love ensuring he has plenty of energon, you love him.

- You miss the old him, the old Pharma you married, the old Pharma you promised to spark bond with once he returned form work but he never came back. Only for him to come back some years later to...being like this.

- He's draining, but he always makes sure you've eaten today, always makes sure you're safe, always makes sure he's kissed you and said he's loved you today.

- You can't fight him forever, you both know that.

- Why keep fighting when you can be a good little wife and accept his love?

Everyday it's the same, every cycle is new but nothing changes, you're still in the same dark abandoned building. You avoiding leaving your makeshift habsuite and a few other areas, not wanting to hear anything Pharma is doing further in the back.

You don't want to hear screams that get cut short, and the whirl of a saw.

You don't want to hear or see anything, you just want to pretend this is all a nightmare, but you know you can't wake up from it.

You just want a sense of normalcy back, to be back at your nice home on Cybertron before the war, laughing with coworkers and friends, greeting your husband with a smile.

Now you can barely stand to look at him without fear gripping your spark.

He's not the bot you married.

You lay on your berth, back facing the door as you don't want to see him, you don't even want him to see your face you don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

Your body trembles hearing his pedesteps growing closer. You will your body to freeze and squeeze your optics shut, just in time for the door to open. Pharma pauses in the doorway, looking over your resting form.

You've been going into stasis a lot more than usual, and a lot more than is recommended, but he can't be too upset with you, after all you look adorable when you're resting.

He moves quietly throughout the room, cleaning up the energon from his face, servo, and saw, knowing you don't like him leaving such a mess.

"I know you're awake, Dear."

You bite your derma holding back a whimper, but remain unmoving

"I'm worried you're sleeping too much, that's usually the first sign something is wrong. Funny how you could be sick, and don't you come to me with it, I am trained in this you know."

You can hear the smile in his voice, as if he didn't kills bots just to meet a quota, tortured someone you called friend, and then all of this.

You'd rather die than let him know anything.

"Are you truly so tired you can't tell me? No matter, I'll find out next cycle, yeah? I'll let you get some rest."

Your optics widen as he lays down behind you, his saw moving to rest under his helm, and his free arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Your back against his Chassis, his face into the back of your neck, pressing feather light kisses across your cables.

Pharma hums, chuckling softly at the feeling of your body shaking. His servo tightens its grip on you, keeping you flushed with him.

"So cute, I wish you'd let me dissect you to figure out what makes you so irresistible."

He laughs at hearing your involuntary whimper.

"No, I could never, but I'd much rather you be my pretty nurse."

You just want to go home and away from this monster.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I'm just going to come right out and say it, I love Kafka Hibino. He's so goddamn cute that I literally want to just eat him alive. This is my first time writing for him - though I've been thinking about it for ages. I hope you like it, @supersecretsaga And I apologize, I'm wholly incapable of writing without it exceeding 1k words. So, SORRY. I proofed this once on google docs and that's all I have in me today. Any gross errors that look like I didn't mean to do them, message me!

C/W ::: Human Kafka, F.reader, not a lot of swearing. I just don't get the sense that Kafka would swear unnecessarily. Maybe I'm wrong. My perception will probably change. Really, who cares. Um, P->V (unprotected), jumping the relationship gun (but, with him, I would, too.)

WC ::: 3,094 (about 7 3/4 pages on G-Docs).

MDNI UNDER THE CUT

Kafka Hibino was simple, through and through. But when he met you that day in the hospital, his whole life changed. He knew he'd never be the same man he was before he was admitted.

You're a nurse. You were great at your job, and you knew it. Though the first time you saw that big, dumb puppy-energy-giving man, you knew that you were a goner, as well.

He was admitted around 2 am. Settled in around 5 am. He was in a lot of pain from the fight he'd gotten into with the Kaiju around midnight. He had 2 broken arms, bruised ribs. A number of different things had happened to him.

Kafka would be in good hands, though. Really, really good hands.

Your hands.

**** 7:30 am ****

"Oh- oh my god. What was THAT!?" You pulled your hand from the large porcelain tub in his bathroom and squeezed the sponge out over his short dark hair.

Giggling, you blinked slowly because you couldn't deny the warmth that was spreading throughout your whole body. And not just between your thighs. No, this was something else entirely. His stupid haircut, his kind eyes and dumbass smile were hammering their way through your boundaries. The same boundaries you'd worked so hard over the years to build to not get emotionally attached to patients.

"You're an idiot, Mr. Hibino. A complete moron. Have you never been bathed before? That was just a little something extra to help loosen up your muscles, a quick massage. My goodness. It's as if you've never been pampered." You stood from where you were on your knees on the floor and shook your hands out, purposely getting water on his face - you hoped in his eyes - so you would have a reason to gingerly wipe it dry.

"Call me Kafka," he said, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched you grab the towel and stand over him.

"What?" You were confused. You didn't realize he'd been asking you something.

"Call me Kafka. It's my name, yeah?" He sounded so serious, so sincere. You nodded and wiped his face with the towel, noticing the small wrinkles as he smiled up at you.

Fuck. He's adorable and you're finding it harder and harder to stay professional.

"No. Your name is Mr. Hibino and that's what I'll be calling you. Ok? Mr. Hibino? Now, let's finish this bath and get you back in bed. The doctor will be coming by soon to check on you and he can give you another massage if you need it." You moved your hands to his shoulders, gently massaging them as you continued talking. "You've been through a lot, Mr. Hibino. Your body needs to heal."

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back against the tub.

You kept massaging him, not stopping until he was almost asleep.

This sweet, gentle man, had a power over you that no one else did. And you weren't sure how to deal with it.

Quite a while later (sorry, storyline faux pas - I didn’t take into account healing time. But let’s just say that because he’s part Kaiju that he heals exceptionally fast. Ok? Ok!)*****

**** 1 month later, 10 pm ****

You hadn't seen Kafka since the morning bath you'd given him. He was discharged and sent home to continue his recovery. As a nurse, you knew he would be alright. But as a woman, you were left feeling empty and wanting more of him.

You were home that night, exhausted, but unable to sleep. You tried to keep your thoughts away from the big, gentle man who had stolen your heart with his kind words and warm smile, but it was impossible.

Your mind drifted to the way he looked at you as you bathed him.

How his body was perfectly balanced between the hard muscles he'd earned in his training and the slight squish around his mid-section that you wanted nothing more than to run your fingertips over.

His arms were thick and strong. Yet not battle-worn. He didn't have too many scars, though they'd have only added to his appeal.

His legs were muscular, too. Thick and strong, like his arms. His thighs were something else, something you found yourself daydreaming about wrapping your own legs around.

You wondered what his cock would feel like inside of you. You snuck a glance when he was in the tub. You knew his eyes were closed when you looked at it, bobbing away in the water. You're certain he was hard. Otherwise, you prayed he wasn't a grower because any more than that and you'd be the one being admitted to the hospital.

You thought about his hands on your body, squeezing your breasts and sliding between your thighs. You imagined what it would be like to feel his fingers inside of you, massaging you and bringing you to orgasm faster than you could imagine.

You rubbed your clit slowly, gently. You couldn't bring yourself to fuck yourself with a vibrator or even your own fingers. You didn't want to give yourself that much pleasure. 

You wanted it to be Kafka.

You wanted him to be the one to take you, to fuck you, to make love to you.

You rolled over onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow as you yelled out in frustration.

"This is ridiculous. This is so stupid. I - I'm not some teenager who can't control herself." You stood and walked to your closet, grabbing some comfortable clothes and your purse and left for the mini mart down the street from your house. 

Chocolate was the next best thing you could think of. Other than, of course, Kafka running his hands all over your body. But what are the chances of that.

What are the chances of that?

The night air was cool against your skin. A nice contrast to the heat you'd built up while thinking about him.

You grabbed a pint of chocolate ice cream and began walking back home.

You felt better, slightly, but still very much wanting.

**** 10:30 pm ****

You were halfway through your pint and the movie when you heard a knock on your front door. "Coming, hold on, please." You walked to the door and looked through your peephole to see who it was. "Oh, you're fucking kidding me. What on earth are you doing here, Mr. Hibino?" The smile on your face was causing the back of your head to strain. You couldn't hide that you felt like your prayers had been answered all at once. But at the same time, you didn't want Kafka to see this look of bliss on your flushed face.

"Call me Kafka," he said softly, leaning against the doorway and smiling back at you. "And I wanted to see you again. May I? Come in, I mean. Please?"

You stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind him.

You watched as he looked around your living room. You could tell he was a little nervous, but so were you.

You'd never felt this way about a patient before. Ex-patient, you had to remind yourself. He was no longer under your care. 

"Ok, Kafka." He smiled at the way you said his name. He'd never heard anything like it before. "Would you like some ice cream? I was just sitting here, eating some, watching a bad movie." You chuckled, showing him the container and spoon.

"Sure. I'd love some." He sat down right in the middle of your couch, and you sat next to him.

You handed him the ice cream and he dug in.

You both ate in silence for a few minutes until he said, "This is good."

You nodded and smiled. "It is. Sometimes chocolate, um, well, sometimes it's the only thing that helps. Y'know?" You looked at him, noticing the way his lips had turned up into a smirk. "What? What did I say?"

"Nothing, nothing. You're just ... you just ... h-here. Can I? There's a little bit of ... right ..." He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip so slowly and then sucked the ice cream off. "... there. You just had a little on your lip. 'S gone now."

You weren't sure what to do. Your body was telling you to jump on him and fuck him until neither of you could walk. Your brain was telling you to wait and see what other kind of sweet nothings he'd do for you. 

So, you waited. You had no idea your self-control was this well-honed. Again, you’d never been tested like this before.

But Kafka was different.

"You're beautiful, y'know." He whispered, looking at the floor like he was trying to burn holes in it with his eyes. He turned his head, leaning in a little bit closer than you were to him at the hospital. His hand moved to rest on your knee. And he said, "I've never met anyone like you before. I thought I was just going lay in the hospital bed until I was better. But you showed me kindness and care. I know you were just doing your job, but I'm grateful that you were there. That you were … you."

You didn't say anything. You were too busy trying to keep your heart from leaping out of your chest. You're sure if he'd looked, he'd see your tits jumping ever so slightly from the heaviness of the beating.

"Thank you for that. Thank you for everything you've done for me, Miss. I don’t know your first name. I’m embarrassed at how many ‘L/N’ households I went to looking for you.”

Your hand shot up to cover the smile that immediately bloomed across your lips. "That's not important. It's Y/N. And you're welcome. I'm happy I was able to help you. I didn't expect you to come here, though. I'm glad you did." You shifted, moving your knee so that your legs were touching. He didn't move his hand. He held it there, squeezing your knee gently.

"I didn't think I'd come here either. But I couldn't stop thinking about you. I know it's not appropriate for me to be here, but I had to see you again. I wanted to say thank you, in person." He turned his head and looked at you. You leaned in closer to him, your noses almost touching. "And maybe something else. Something that would make you feel as special as you made me feel when you took care of me."

You were so close to him you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. He smelled like the air before a storm, and whiskey. But a little liquid courage never killed anyone.

"Kafka," you whispered, reaching up and touching his face. You were fidgeting with a small piece of his hair as you rest your forehead against his. "Kafka. I ..."

He sat up abruptly, "Oh shit! You're not married, are you? I should have asked, I'm so sorry for showing up here so late. Without any warning." He bowed to you and started for the door.

"Kafka! I'm not married. I'm not even seeing anyone right now. Please, come back. Come sit." You stood and took his hand, leading him back to the couch. "I was going to say I've never felt this way about a patient before. You make me feel like there's something more to life than just my job."

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of dishonesty. He couldn't find any. "So, you don't mind me coming here?"

You shook your head. "I don't mind you coming here at all. I'm glad you did. I was just surprised, that's all. Please don't leave. Not yet." You held his hand tighter and urged him back down on the couch with you.

Pulling him back in, kissing him gently on the lips. "I've been wanting you to do that since the first time I saw you, too. But you in terrible pain when you came in. How did you have the presence of mind to want to kiss me when you were so badly beaten up?"

He laughed, "I wasn't beaten up, per se. I just didn't come out on top." He paused for a second, and then continued, "And the pain wasn't as bad as you think. I'm used to it. It's a part of my job. But being here with you, it's like I can forget all of that. And just be me. Kafka. Nothing else."

You leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more urgency. His lips parted slightly, and you could taste the chocolate on his tongue. You moaned softly, shifting so that your legs were wrapped around him. He pulled you onto his lap, and you straddled him, grinding yourself against his crotch.

"Oh my god," he moaned, pulling back slightly and looking into your eyes. "Y/N. You're so beautiful." He reached up and touched your cheek with his thumb, rubbing it gently.

You pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. His chest was chiseled and smooth, his abs flexing slightly under his cute belly as he breathed heavily.

You ran your hands over his shoulders and down his back, feeling every muscle and every scar. You kissed his neck, biting it gently and sucking on his skin. "Kafka, I want you. I want you so much."

He pulled your shirt off and threw it next to his. "I'm gonna make you feel so good that you'll forget all about chocolate."

You stopped, pulling back from his face, and you laughed so hard for the first time in ages. "Oh, that might be the most serious thing anyone has ever said to me. Challenge accepted!"

He pulled you back into him and kissed you, his hands reaching around to squeeze your ass as you ground yourself against him. He picked you up and carried you to your bedroom, gently laying you on the bed before climbing on top of you.

You unclasped your bra and tossed it to the floor, allowing him to see your breasts. He gasped as quietly as he could manage, running his hands over them and squeezing them gently. "You're so beautiful. You know that?"

He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it gently as his fingers worked at your pants. He slid them off, revealing your black lace panties. You'd never felt so exposed in your life. And you loved it.

"Kafka, please," you moaned as he sucked harder on your nipple, his hand moving down to rub your clit through your panties. "Please fuck me. I need you. I need you so bad."

He pulled back, looking at your face. "You want me to fuck you? You want me to make you cum? Oh-hoh baby, I will. I might even cum before you do! But don't lose faith. It's just, well, it's been a while? I guess? But that's not important right now." He leaned in and kissed you again, biting your bottom lip and sucking on it gently.

"It's ok, Kafka. I want you. I don't care if you cum before me. I just want you inside me. Please, please." You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You couldn't believe you were begging like this, but you didn't care. You wanted him so badly.

He nodded and pulled your panties off, throwing them to the floor. He pushed his own pants down and pulled his boxers off with them, his cock set free.

You gasped at the sight. It was so much more than what you saw when he was in the tub. "Jesus, I-"

He looked down, "Oh. That?" He turned his head away, "Yeah, sorry. I'm sure you've seen um, better? But I make up for it in other ways! I promise, y/n. Just give me a chance."

You shook your head and smiled, "That's not at all what I'm trying to say here. There's not a doubt in my mind you won't fuck me stupid, Kafka." You giggled and reached your arms out to pull him down against you.

He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit as he kissed your neck.

You moaned, "Ohhh, fuck. Yes. Do that." Your hand moved to his ass, squeezing it as he rocked against you.

He pushed himself inside of you slowly, stretching you out as he went. The slight sting you noticed dissipated as quickly as the onset. You moaned, your nails digging into his back as he started to thrust faster. "Kafka, oh my god. That feels so fucking good. More. I want more,  please."

He grunted, his cock sliding in and out of you as you arched your back, grinding yourself against him. He sucked on your nipple again, his tongue flicking over it as he fucked you harder and faster.

You couldn't believe how much he was making you feel. You hadn't had sex in so long, but this was different. This was something else entirely. He was with you. He wasn't just there to get himself off. You'd been with guys like that before and they, more often than not, left you with a (literal) bad taste in your mouth.

Your breathing quickened, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. And the closer you got, the harder your nails dug into his muscular back. "Kaf-hoh shit. Y-that ... pl- fuck. 'M gonna cum ... very … very soon."

He pulled back slightly, looking at your face as you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back. "Me too, baby. Me too. You're so tight, and you feel so good. I can't believe I'm inside of you. Fuck. I'm gonna cum, Y/N. Oh shit, I'm gonna cum." He grunted again, his cock twitching inside of you as he came hard, filling you up.

You came with him, your pussy squeezing around his cock as he kept fucking you, slowing his thrusts until he stopped completely.

"Fuck," you whispered, reaching up and touching his face gently. "Kafka."

He smiled and kissed you softly. "RIGHT!?" 

You laughed through a yawn at the high energy he had when you first met, despite his injuries, and how he seems now. “Stay? Stay with me. I don’t want you to go. Tonight. Ever.” 

He held you close to him, kissing the top of your head and brushing your hair down as you drifted off to sleep against his warm chest.

"Just try’n get rid of me, y/n." 

@darkstarlight82 @katkusuo @kazutora-kurokawa

@arlerts-angel @southside-otaku @trevengersprincess

@bakubunny @reiners-milkbiddies

***If you guys absolutely hate this anime or don't give a shit, please please let me know so I don't keep writing and tagging you in stuff you don't care about! Thanks, mooties! <3***

[meguchi512]

assigning behaviors I've noticed in people to pjsk characters:

tsukasa: writes his name EVERYWHERE. his desk at school has "tsukasa" "tsukasa" "tsukasa" "tsukasa" written all over it, his notebooks too and even his classmates' notebooks (from a classmate)

shizuku: says "oh, madonna!" instead of "oh god" (from my italian grandpa)

saki: tsukasa rides a bike and saki sits on the handlebar & every time they have to stop they fall off but they just get up and go on like nothing's happened (from an old friend)

mizuki: accidentally sends "penis shaped messages" and immediately points it out (me)

ena: is so fucking done with mizuki's penis messages (my friends)

kanade: "uhh i think I'm forgetting something? oh well it probably wasn't important" hasn't drank water since yesterday (me again)

rui: extremely verbose, to the point where everyone around him thinks he's some sort of philosophical genius but in reality he's just saying dumb shit and articulating it intelligently (my italian grandpa again so sorry)

an: sends her friends "hot milfs in your area" messages pretending to be a bot because silly and immediately gets banned ( @robinoullea literally)

airi: wants to be supportive but types way too quickly ( @robinoullea trying to say "10/10")

emu: says the most deranged things in roblox chats and manages to not get censored while her friend (nene) can't even go one sentence without "########" ( @harukaisu )

nene, trying to tell tsukasa to reset his roblox avatar because he got stuck: uhhh kill yourself (me) (I'M SO SORRY)

minori: tries to download a pin and accidentally sends it to a random person and dies of embarrassment (everyone. no one is safe from Pinterest's AWFUL interface)

ichika: goes into a store. gets an ingredient. goes back home. goes back. gets an ingredient. goes back home. repeat until she's got everything to make dinner when it's already 11pm (my forgetful mom)

mafuyu: has the most DERANGED dreams I'm not even kidding ( @robinoullea when he had that one dream where he sent me a tiktok meme of Richard Watterson saying the names of popular pornstars with them flashing on screen for a second each. I've cried real tears about this btw)

kohane: has a chicken farm in minecraft but she's so attached to them that she can't kill any of them for food so they just keep reproducing and in turn the server keeps getting laggier. eventually a creeper explodes right next to it and she throws herself off a mountain (me)

haruka: uses the default pfp which is also the pfp that shows when you get blocked by someone. she also turns her phone off often (which causes messages to not get sent until it's on) so minori always panics and sends her messages to make sure she's not blocked (classmate)

akito: makes gagging noises on purpose because it makes ena gag too and get VERY annoyed and he finds it funny (classmate)

toya: unintentionally causes a lot of fights in vbs regarding what the best way to make coffee is (my whole friend group) (except me i do it on purpose)

honami: whenever someone tags her in l/n's group chat she heroically says "who calls for my help?" ( @robinoullea )

shiho: doesn't have the heart to tell honami how funny it is when she does that (not me i always make sure to mention it)

[pensbridge]

S3 First Reactions 🪞🐝🦋🪶

❤️ Already fangirled about the whole engagement night - the hugs, Hyacinth!!!

Colin not being able to stay away for that long after their engagement announcement and immediately excusing himself at Anthony's suggestion is exactly what I'd expect of him. ×

❤️ Colin calling out Portia. "out of love." 😢

❤️ "OUR BRIDGERTON NAME" is so important, because it's reiterating that Penelope's getting to choose her family when the one she was born into is so awful

He was so nervous when she didn't respond to their new home.

"Because I love you...Pen." 😢

"Are you sure?" PEN, no 😭😭😭

❤️ That mirror moment (i love how he said "the way your eyes shine when you look at me..." callback to her complimenting his eyes) "...And other things..."

bxtch they stuck with the thread of Colin not opening his eyes to stay in the dream and Pen checking to see if it's real when they kiss

The eye acting of Nicola and Luke! (they are being doe eyes x the intensity of his gaze or w/e it is)

The gulp <3 Nicola

"You are so beautiful."

❤️ The first time!!!

"I hope my husband.." - Fran, AND John -"I would not dream of it" 😯 asdfjgkglyl

Kate & El (got their s2 vibes)

Ahh, the "Do I look a mess?" "You are my mess" was delivered so perfectly.

cute, cute, cute riding through town in carriage (no personal space)

The hand kiss in front of portia!

Colin handing Eloise the spoon 🤣

❤️ the charades game - the cutest thing (they're holding hands)

Also, fuckin Anthony being tooo competitive 😆

Peneloise rights! The back 'n forth in the game 😬

The panic attack was high-octane; the concern in the scene was cute xxx

❤️ Fran looking at John & Violet hating this story lol.....and then, me noticing her realization to another child in love

❤️ The look & collar tug in the church (polin is so dorky & domestic already)

❤️ Soooooo....the spontaneous dance in the church is better than I thought it was gonna be...their goofy footwork, spinning in a multitude of circles "dancing with MY FUTURE WIFE in THE CHURCH WHERE WE WILL BE MARRIED" bye

Part 1, the ton jokes and bullies them and Part 2, we just see people that can't help but get happy and giddy when they see their young love. Violet and Lady Danbury awwing at polin and embracing them in the park!!!

❤️ "I am going to look at the very fine wainscoting" -John, please! 😅

"Not every attachment must be dramatic and hard-fought." - Francesca 😢 bby, you're right

I legit went from this man has the crazy eyes ppl talk about to *tired eyes Wide-Open*... Bi Benedict?! ..I'm getting Bi Benedict?! (I was like: Why?Is?He?Staring?at?him?Like?That? (i knew i sensed the vibes! The Best Surprise!!!)

"This dance does not compare to a private waltz in the church where we'll be married." She's SO cute! "Well perhaps we shall have to add some flourish." Stop. km now (that's so him! he is so dumb; they're married already and dumb as they should be! ×)

Props again with the deaf representation & the sass when Miss Cressida enters the ball

"A scandal writer for a daughter. Can you imagine?" - Portia (i'm sorry i love this whole sequence)

Polin gets more perfectly dork w/stepping on feet being included during their dance at The Mondrich Ball (that's very them)

Thank god for Bridgerton giving us hour long episodes in this 2nd part.

❤️ Eloise admitting she's wrong (and so casually) 😢 ps i think they both have faults but i just love this

❤️ "The column began because I felt powerless in my own home." - Pen (well, i'm glad she said it!)

ok, now Pen admits her faults. all is right again

❤️ Irish accent again

"You are Lady Whistledown." This reveal was everything

omg, was this the scene where he wasn't supposed to cry, but did?! What would I have done without this reaction in such an important moment?! 😢

I love how Penelope highlighted the voiceless as she said she should with Eloise in her new edition of Whistledown

Violet to Agatha - "..but I hope you know that my care for you is not contingent on your aid." 😢 (she sees her)

This whole fight outside the modiste's. 😭

"I have been careful. You have been foolish.."

❤️ "I LOVE YOU" and he was shocked (an 'ily for you' moment) [i was not expecting the follow up to his line to go like that]

❤️ They deserve a hot passionate makeout before they are married where they get completely caught up after fighting.

"What am I chopped liver?" yes Anthony in this situation you are.

❤️ Violet calling in Kanthony for Colin marital advice

❤️ Yellow

The look at each other down the aisle.

❤️ Vows. Weddings on this show are usually so unhappy, but I appreciate that Colin is still so reassuring & clearly beaming about this when there is residual upset/confusion.

❤️ Eloise cryyinng

Ben's line to El- "..The friendship you have with Penelope... As the one you have with Colin." xxx (she doesn't wanna lose them)

"OUR child will always be a Bridgerton, but I should like them to know that they are a Sharma as well." fxck 🥲

"I should like to dance with my husband.."

The disappearing people in the wedding dance. like they're the only 2 ppl in the room! (Bridgerton either has it out for me [to cry] or loves me so much)

ANTHONY 👁👁 Marcus & Violet

Colin's hand caressing on Pen's face at the end of the dance they're really coming for me (bro did he almost kiss her?!??? i freaked out; had to rewind)

The queen excusing all non-Bridgertons + "Penelope, you are a Bridgerton now."

I kind of love that "Everyone except the Bridgertons are to scatter," but Lady Danbury's just there

GOD (I knew it as soon as it was coming) Eloise hugs Pen <3 🥲

ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod bi Ben

❤️ The hair grab!

This printer's assistant is on my shit list

SCOTLAND!!! JOHNCESCA

"It is not up to you what we do." 🤭❤️🤣 Colin mad but still ready to defend his wife (as it should be)

"I know my father was a good man and you are a good friend." Violet-Agatha feels

🙀He kept the letters!

💛John's words to Mama Bridgerton (her children's traits)

She said she was a fumbling mess in front of Edmund like 5 minutes before she is fumbling in front of Marcus

"Then how am I meant to help you?" ❤️ "By loving me."

❤️ Pen's love confession

"....to be a young lady to whom no one listens." - Pen!~Eloise shared look

Philippa + her "bugs"

😲 Lady Danbury x Pen (she knew! ❤️)

❤️ Colin's love confession (them crying together x)

El traveling with Johncesca

Mi-MICHAELA Stirling ... Bridgerton I swear if you are queerbaiting

OH MY GOD! Mama Bridgerton's words -FRANCESCA is fumbling her words.

❤️ Colin focussing on the hands in bed

Pen on top!

"Your father is always trying to distract with a clever word &..." "You think my smile is beguiling?" x "I could not have written without the help of Auntie Penelope." They are so obsessed with each other

Philomena?! did i hear that rt? omg Philippa

Yay we got confirmation of Colin's book! (I can only hope they're sitting in bed reading next season).

[6rookie-writer0110]

Sadly, I want you

Wally Clark x Male Reader

Request: Wally Clark x male reader, reader can see ghosts and makes it his mission to help wally move on but also catching feelings for this ghost in the process. maybe angst at the end

You just took a shower and you are in your bedroom. You are wearing just a bathrobe and you start to look for your pajamas. You take off your bathrobe then suddenly you heard someone talk to you.

“Woah! Woah!” Wally said.

You covered yourself with the robe.

“Who the hell are you!?” You yelled.

“This is my room! What are you doing here?” Wally said.

“This is my room and my house, which my family bought!” You yelled.

Wally turned around now he is facing the window.

“You can put on your clothes now. I won't look” Wally said.

You started to get dressed fast.

“You can turn around now. I'm serious but why are you in my room? You know what I'm calling the cops” You said.

Wally turned around.

“This is my house. I have been living here since 1965” Wally said.

“Wait, say that again,” You said.

You throw the pillow at him and it went through him.

“I was born in 1965 so this is my house,” Wally said.

“Not anymore. What year do you think it is?” You said.

“It’s 1983,” Wally said.

“No, it's 2024,” You said.

“That year doesn't exist, buddy,” Wally said.

“My name is Y/n. The year is real and what's your name” You said.

“My name is Wally Clark and the year is 1983,” Wally said.

You try to explain to him it's not 1983 anymore. He had to process that he is dead and hadn't moved on. You turn on your laptop

“What is that?” Wally asked.

“It's called a computer. I can find anything I want on the internet and I mean anything” You said.

“What is the internet?” Wally asked.

“I’m going to put your name and it will show me the information about you. And I can look up the old bands you like” You said.

“Wow, the internet. Oh, and my favorite band is The Police” Wally said.

“I never heard of them. Okay, I'm going to type your name” You said.

You did find information on Wally, then you start to read the paragraph...

“Quarterback Wally Clark died from a football accident. His neck snapped during the game” You said.

You look at him and he is speechless.

“I remember now, what happened to me,” Wally said.

“You haven't moved on because you are attached to something,” You said.

“What happened to my parents?” Wally asked.

You start to search for his parents.

“They passed away years ago. The house had been empty for years before my parents bought the house” You said.

“But how you can see me?” Wally asked.

“It’s a gift. I have been seeing ghosts since I was ten years old” You said.

“Oh... Can you play the police?” Wally asked.

You figured it would cheer him up. You play the music and he starts to talk about, which song is his favorite.

----

You and Wally start to ask questions about each other. He thinks it's dumb and cool to have a cell phone, and learned about old music and shows.

You head to the basement and there are some boxes, that don't belong to you or your parents.

“Hey that box has my name on it,” Wally said.

“I’m going to open it,” You said.

You start to open the box. Inside there are old photo albums then you start to look through the pictures. He starts to tell you stories about his family and when he was a kid.

✬ ✯ ✫ ✯

You are on your phone and Wally appears in your room.

“What are you doing, Y/n?” Wally asked.

You got startled, you weren't expecting him.

“You scared me,” You said.

“I didn't mean to scare you. What are you doing on the phone?” Wally said.

“I was doing research on how to help you crossover,” You said.

“Anything helpful?” Wally asked.

“First we have to find what you are attached to besides my room,” You said.

“You mean my room,” Wally said.

“No, it's my room. My family bought the house, we have the papers” You said.

You and Wally did go back and forth about whose room it is.

But later, you start to check every room in the house. You couldn't figure out why Wally is still attached to the house. It took a while to explain to him why TVs are flat and not huge in the back.

——-

The last few days, you and Wally got used to being around each other. Because of him, you know some old rock bands. You talk about your day and he talks about what he does when you aren't around.

“Won’t your boyfriend be jealous you are spending time with me, not him?” Wally asked.

“I don't have a boyfriend,” You said.

“Why not? You are cute and smart” Wally said.

You couldn't help to smile at what he said about you.

“Thanks. It's hard to find someone who would actually like me and stuff” You said.

“If I was alive and the same age as you, I would ask you out. But I think you should try to put yourself out there and get your holes filled… I-I didn't mean like that… I-” Wally starts to stutter.

“I get it, Wally” You giggled.

You lie on your bed and Wally lies next to you. He started to give you advice on dating then you changed the subject to something else. Now, you and Wally are talking personal funny stories about each other. You and Wally are enjoying the conversation then you two start to talk about pet peeves, half of it you and Wally agreed on the same ones.

It was dinner time and your parents were waking late. But Wally is keeping you company, he talks about his favorite food. He starts to ask questions about your favorite food and least favorite food.

✬ ✯ ✫ ✯

You had a bad day and Wally can see that you are grumpy. You sit in your gaming chair and sigh heavily.

“What happened, Y/n?” Wally asked.

“I had a bad day from morning until I came home,” You said.

“Oh,” Wally said.

“My boss is a huge asshole and a customer was a bigger asshole. Ugh! I work with stupid people and I need a new job. And on my way home, I forgot my umbrella and it started to rain and I got soaked” You said.

Wally starts to think if he wasn't a ghost he would hug you.

“How about, you change into your pajamas and we will watch your favorite movie,” Wally said.

“I like that idea, Wally. Thanks” You smiled.

“Anything for you” Wally smiled.

You went to take a hot shower and then put on your pajamas. You put on your favorite movie then Wally sits next to you on the couch.

Later you want to bed and you stare at the ceiling. Wally would usually stay out of your bedroom while you sleep.

“I shouldn't have feelings for a ghost” You mumbled.

When you started to open up to Wally, then you developed feelings for him. You tried to deny it but that didn't work and you sighed. You finally opened up to someone but he isn't alive or the same age as you.

Wally is in the living room watching TV. Wally has developed feelings for you and he wishes that he could touch you. But he thinks that you don't have feelings for him.

——-

Wally went with you to the attic. There are more boxes of his stuff than you found in his football jacket. Inside his pocket, you found a family picture of him and his parents.

“I think this is why you haven't been able to crossover,” You said.

“I remember when I first got that jacket. I ran home and told my parents and my mom called everyone and made my favorite meal. Then my dad hugged me” Wally smiled.

“That must have been nice” You smiled.

You and Wally leave the attic. You head to the backyard and you grab the Charcoal lighter fluid.

“If I burn your jacket then we won't see each other again,” You said sadly.

“I know. I'm going to miss you, Y/n” Wally said.

“I’m going to miss you too, Wally,” You said.

You put his jacket and the picture in the firepit. You dosed his jacket with the lighter fluid and you used matches to light it. You and Wally watched the fire start and the jacket started to burn.

“Wally, your hand,” You said.

His right hand starts to disappear.

“Y/n, I'm going to say this fast because I don't have enough time. I really like you and I know we are not from the same lifetime. But I really enjoyed my time with you and I do hope that you will find your happiness. Y/n, I'm going to miss you a lot but thank you” Wally said.

“I feel the same way, Wally. You made me happy and I'm glad you will see your parents. I'm going to miss you a lot” You said.

“Bye, Y/n,” Wally said.

You watch him disappear and you sit on the chair. Then you watched his jacket turn black and you started to cry. You wipe the tears away and sit outside for a little while.

[woniefication]

☕︎༯𝑩𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 ☕︎༯

Chapter 1:First day

———————————————————

𝑮enre: Smau,written AU,Fluff (please read the written part )

Pairing: Yang Jungwonxfem!reader

Warnings: Cursing, one kys joke

Synopsis: Y/N a photography student at Montclairé university has to work a job at a small coffee restaurant where she meets a very shy boy named Jungwon who happens to go to the same University studying culinary. A story that stirs and mixes in a coffee pot full of suprises.

As soon as you entered the cafe the smell of freshly brewed coffee and matcha filled your nostrils. Out of nowhere a Tall man who appeared to be in his early twenties appeared with a name tag on his apron that read "Jungwon". Not giving you a chance to speak he started talking.

"I'm guessing youre Y/N right?" said the man.

"Yeah thats right,are you the person who the manager told me about?" You tried saying in a nonchalant voice trying to mask your nervousness.

"I think so, heres your name tag." Jungwon handed you the small beige colored piece of paper with a safety pin attached to it. Right next to you was a table that was a bit dirty so he started wiping the surface.

You couldnt help but notice his sharp features and the way he looked very uninterested. You could've sworn you've seen this man somewhere before.

"D-do I know you from somewhere? You look oddly familiar." You stated while slightly shrugging your eyebrows.

"Depends are you going to stalk me?" He worded jokingly while chuckling.

"You might know me from University I go to Montclaire and study culinary." Jungwon stated.

You let out a gasp. "Oh so thats where I know you from I knew it! Culinary? Thats so cool! I go to Montclaire too im majoring in photography!"

"Photography? What are you doing working at a cafe then? Are you going to take pictures of lattes for us?" He replied finally looking up from the counter giving you a weird look.

"Well, I need to pay my tuition somehow and lets not forget rent. You stated.

"Oh yeah thats right sorry dumb question." The boy admitted sheepishly.

Slowly the conversation died down and Jungwon started showing you around, telling you how all the equipment worked.Keeping a professional tone and maintaning a respectable distance.

The sun setting down casted a cozy atmosphere over the cafe. The last sunrays shining through the wide windows. The chatting of the customers dying down.

The sound of the bell whenever somebody came through the door stopping. Thats how you knew your shift was over.

"Thank you for showing me around I appreciate it."

Your voice said to Jungwon before heading out of the door. Jungwon was in charge of closing the Café that meant he stayed longer than his shift was intended for.

The walk home was very comforting considering the fact that you were under stress not even a couple hours ago.

The second you took your phone out of your pocket you saw it light up with notifications from none other than your friends.

You've had enough for today. You'll respond to them tomorrow.

Previous. Masterlist. Next.

Taglist: @jiiyen @yuriknows @firstclassjaylee (to be added comment or ask)

[whimsimille]

VENDETTA

Jeong Jin Man x Fem!reader

Summary:

“Look at Babylon’s little princess! Got tired of being Dad’s loyal dog, huh? Decided to avenge your boyfriend instead of wagging your tail? What a dumb choice!"

There are hounds behind your eyes and between your molars. They nip your heels and bark in your ears. They're loud. Years ago, you wished someone would take this part of you out to the backyard and, like a sick dog, put it out of its misery. Years ago, you would pull them away and beg them to be quiet for once.

But now? Now you just watch them run wild and feral. They bite Bale as you lean down to whisper in his ear, and you let them. You do not put leashes on, and you do not open the cages.

“You don’t know me, Bale.”

”Oh, I don't?” he mocked, his lips curling into a sneer as he shifted his weight, trying to ease the pressure from where you had kicked him earlier. Blood trickled down from a cut on his forehead, mixing with the sweat on his face.

“No, because do you know what I became after Babylon, asshole?" You whisper as your left hand, free from the weight of the gun, grabs a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look directly into your eyes. "I'm the dog that tasted its owner's blood and learned that it was sweeter than any bone."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: Genesis

“She can't help it,' he said. 'She's got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog.”

—Stephen King

It's hard to explain what it felt like to breathe when you saw him wrapped in the cold sheets of the morgue, his lifeless form lying on the stainless steel gurney under the fluorescent lights. Your eyes fall on the tag attached to his toe—the final indignity in a life cut short. Jeong Jin-Man, the label reads, followed by a string of numbers that mean nothing to you. 

He was more than just a name and a number. 

It's like your body betrays you. That's the only way you know how to say it. Your body doesn't know that it's supposed to move and run away from this hospital before the necropsy crew enters the room again, that the rest of you—the stuff inside—is locked away in someplace you can never return to. Your body doesn't know you don't want to stay there, in this cold environment that smells like formaldehyde and antiseptic, where nothing has changed along with the dead corpses all around you.

So it just keeps growing, changing, carrying you ahead—more machine than anything—but inside you are torn apart by the disparity of it all as you lift one trembling finger and trace Jin-Man’s nose, the tiny notch on top from that time you punched his face after a mission failed. 

But just as soon as you touch him, just as soon as you notice he won’t scrunch his nose and push your hand away because he always claimed it smelled like gunpowder, just as soon as you notice that he won’t look up at you through drowsy eyelashes before he pulls you by your waist, letting your body drape over his like a makeshift blanket, just as soon as you notice that he won’t use those big calloused hands—hands that were so skilled at maneuvering firearms—to wrap around your throat until your ears ring and your eyes get watery because it feels good to feel something other than panic attacks and anger, you step away.

You think about the time you spent together, the clandestine meetings in seedy motels, the whispered conversations about safe houses and escape routes, the constant fear of betrayal. 

But there will be no more whispered promises, no more shared secrets. That was what finally made you realize that the guy was dead. He wasn't ill; he wasn't sleeping. He wasn't going to get up in the morning anymore, or eat too many porky bellies from the street vendors, or worry about amino and bombs. He was dead, completely dead. He wasn't going to go out with his brother in the spring to collect bottles uncovered by the departing snow. He wasn't going to get into fights on the playground. He wasn't going to kill men in the name of Babylon. He was everything like wasn't, can't, don't, shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't. He was one big not. Jeong Jin-Man was dead.

That night, 13 years ago, you awoke with that fuzzy sensation in the back of your skull—the feeling you hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since you had last had a drink anyway. Your mouth felt like it had been wrapped in cotton, your tongue like sandpaper.

You dared a glance at the old clock above the fireplace mantel, the one that was commonly out of commission. It had numbers painted in black, elegant cursive with golden trim that had a knack for accumulating dust on its glinting edges. 

4:06.

“Where are you going at this hour, dude? Just lay with me for a little while. The training won’t start until 5:45,” you mumbled as you woke up to the sound of him buckling his belt. Jin-Man was always an early riser, but this was unusual. Bale was gone now, and the twins and Seung-Ho were missing. Everything was perfect; why was he waking up at this hour?

“I need to speak with Yong-Han. Just go back to sleep, doll.”

Your only reply was moaning into your pillow, still groggy from sleep. Gently, Jin-Man reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, his movements light and tender. A part of him wished he could stay in bed all morning, wrapped in the maroon covers, by your side, warm and cozy. You knew that.

Even so, you let out another groan and rolled over. Your hair was messy, features highlighted in the ethereal light of the night sky. You met Jin-Man’s steady gaze, a soft smile gracing your lips. Your brown eyes opened, clearing away their cloudiness as you fully came. “Speak with Dad, why?” you said, voice husky as it always was in the morning.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Jin-Man replied, musing. “But, yeah, confidential things about the explosion,” he added, looking away as if the words themselves were too heavy to bear.

You held back your sigh. For God’s sake, you had just wanted to have a quiet, uneventful shift after the chaos that was last night. Still, you bit your tongue and said nothing. Picking fights probably wasn’t the best idea when Jin-Man was already on edge. So you just hummed and stretched out your entire body, letting your feet wiggle beneath the covers instead. You soaked up the moonlight like a cat basking in the sun. Your gaze fell back on him. “Do you have to?”

“Yes,” he said, already rising and clambering out of your shared bed. He had to get ready and get to the old man’s office. Things to do, people to meet, secrets to keep.

You groaned yet again and fell backwards into the pillows, rather dramatic. If it weren’t for your handiness around guns, you might have missed your call to the theater.

“I’m sorry, doll. I’ll see you later.”

The room was filled with the lingering scent of Marlboro Reds, a habit he had kicked months ago, but the smell had woven itself into the very fabric of your shared space. His movements were quick, efficient, almost mechanical as he slipped on his black shirt, a standard-issue piece that had seen better days. You watched him intently, memorizing every detail—the way his dark hair fell into his eyes as he bowed down to put on his socks, knowing you’d have to beg him to let you trim it again or risk losing more of your beloved black hair ties, the slight stubble on his chin that made him look ruggedly handsome, the way his hands fumbled slightly with the zipper of his jacket. 

Jesus, you absorbed him like a parched earth soaking up the first rain after a drought. But, perhaps, being flooded by him was all worth it, if you got to feel that relief, even if just for a moment.

“Don't forget to take your meds,” you reminded him softly. That bottle of Zoloft sat untouched in his leather bag, right next to the spare magazine for his Glock.

“I won't,” he assured you, but you knew better. It was a lie you both told each other to make the mornings easier. “I’ve got the bottle in my bag. I’ll take them with my coffee.”

"Liar…" you sing songed, rolling your eyes. "You always forget and end up chugging an energy drink instead."

“Shut up and go back to sleep," he teased, giving you tickles in the sensitive spot just in the middle of your feet, making you squirm and giggle despite yourself.

As your laughter started to die down and you began to slap his hands away, he paused, his eyes roaming over your naked form. The covers had slipped. He admired the scars on your right hip from that knife fight in Busan, the moles that looked like constellations on the valley of your breasts, and the freckles that appeared when the light hit you just right, like a painter’s masterpiece. He traced the scar on your shoulder from that time you took a bullet for him in Hongdae.

“You’re beautiful. Even when you’re being a pain in the ass.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

He laughed softly, the sound like music in the quiet room. “I’ll miss you, you know that?”

“Then don’t go.” 

Jeong didn’t answer. Duty called, and Jin-Man was nothing if not dedicated. You just didn't know which position of priority you occupied in his life. Maybe the 20th?

He moved back to the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. His lips were chapped, tasting faintly like the mint ChapStick he always used. You wrapped your arms around him like a koala, pulling him closer. 

“You always taste like mint,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Better than cigarettes, right?” he teased, his hands caressing your cheekbones while nuzzling the soft curve of your neck with his sharp nose.

“Much better,” you agreed as your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I hated those Marlboro Reds. Always told you my brand was better.”

He rolled over, slipping onto your waist, straddling your hips and pinning you down on the bed. "Stop trying to start a fight. You're impossible," he chuckled, breaking another kiss reluctantly. "I really have to go. Yong-Han is expecting me, and you know how he gets when I'm late."

"Fine," you sighed, releasing him. "But you better come back in one piece. And don’t forget to bring my favorite coffee from that little shop near the base.”

"Always," he replied with a wink, giving your nose a playful tweak before finally straightening up and heading towards the door. "And don’t worry, I’ll bring back an extra donut for you. Mrs. Park will probably insist on it anyway."

"You say that every time, but you always end up eating it on the way back.”

He turned around at the door, one hand on the knob, and gave you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. "I can’t help it if they smell better fresh. Now go back to sleep before I change my mind and keep you up all night."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget. And for the love of God, take your meds, Jin-Man," you muttered, turning over in bed and pulling the covers up. 

He nodded, leaning his head against the doorway as he watched your back. "Yes, ma'am. Zoloft first, then coffee."

"Good," you said, your voice muffled by the pillow. "Now get out of here before I change my mind and chain you to the bed."

Jin-Man chuckled and stepped out into the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way to the kitchen. You could still hear him moving around, the sound of cabinets opening and closing as he grabbed his travel mug and filled it with the last dregs of coffee from the pot you had brewed the night before. Masochist. In his opinion, he always expressed that the rainwater in the city’s numerous potholes probably tasted better than your coffee. Yet, here he was, probably shaking the bottle for one more drop.

You turned over in bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, and closed your eyes. The room was silent now; the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. You tried to will yourself back to sleep, but the emptiness beside you made it impossible.

You sighed again, burying your face in the pillow. You would wait for him, just like you always did, and when he came back, you would wrap your arms around him and hold on tight, hoping that one day he wouldn't have to leave.

But until that day came, you would endure. Because loving Jeong Jin-Man meant accepting the goodbyes, no matter how much they hurt.

And that should be enough for you to get your shit together and clutch your lab coat even more to stop yourself from clenching your teeth until your bruxism gets worse as you fight the urge to cry and kiss him. He abandoned you. He left you in Babylon, built a family in the countryside with his niece and never once contacted you. Not a single email, a text, or even a postcard from the village market. He had moved on, leaving you to rot in the shadows of your shared past. Well, until the hospital called, at least.

“Miss Y/N, we found your phone number in Mr. Jeong Jin-Man’s past records at Seoul Presbyterian Hospital. You were always listed as one of the primary emergency contacts. It appears you were the one he trusted the most to be informed if anything ever happened to him.” Said the voice on the other end. It was a woman, perhaps in her late forties. Her voice was clinical, detached—like she had made hundreds of these calls before and would make hundreds more.

Silence.

“Miss Y/N? Are you there?” Her voice carried a hint of impatience now, as if she were checking her watch, waiting for you to respond so she could move on to the next call.

Silence.

Radio silence. Silence of the waves crashing against the dock. Silence of restless sleep haunted by dreams that feel all too real. Silence of eating breakfast alone in the dingy kitchen that still smells faintly of burnt toast and instant coffee. 

Just silence, because after that night he said he was just going to take a break, your Jin-Man was gone. Because you tore out the love he stitched in the codes of your encrypted messages and smudged the writing on the walls of an abandoned warehouse as soon as he kissed you a fake “I’ll see you soon, doll” and never came back. Those codes no longer serve a purpose. The world doesn’t need to know the empty promises he built in a life he abandoned you in for greener grass and an honest life. But watch your rage come undone as you look at him one more time before putting him back on his fucking shelf. Maybe in the autopsy, doctors would declare he had venom on his tongue from all the lies he had spun.

Still, suicide? It didn’t fit him. Not at all. 

Burn everything tied to the decade of memories he left you here to turn gray with as you pass by thousands upon thousands of doctors and empty grieving families. This love was useless, so degrading. Burn it all. Open the windows to send smoke signals to the world. Send your condolences and announce your formal goodbye. Let this rage set fire and engulf every corner of the hideout resting on top of the hill. The mercenary in you has shrunk, as has your dossier.  Look at all this abandoned data the world won't decrypt from turning to ash as you go down the hallway.

Jin-Man was a man you bore no love for. His demise was warranted, perhaps even long overdue. Still, there's a remnant inside you—maybe the part that still clings to familiar pains and old grudges—that can't seem to fully sever ties with him. His persistent stubbornness made his sudden death unexpected. It felt too staged, too clean-cut.

Investigate? No. Of course not.

But here you stood, drawn to Jeong Ji-An who was locked in battle with an ancient vending machine that bore the ghost logo of an extinct company. She was waging a war to tease out one more pack of Marlboro cigarettes from its cold grasp. The irony of a hospital vending machine dispensing life-threatening products wasn’t lost on you. Perhaps it was their last-ditch attempt at salvaging their struggling oncology department or just proof positive of how much this place was going to ruin unnoticed.

“Stupid machine. Stupid cigarettes. Stupid everything!” Jeong Ji-An grunted, her frustration making her face twist and turn into a snarl as she slammed her hand against the machine again, this time harder than the last. "Useless pile of metal!" She hurled out the insult as if in a tug-of-war game—the veins on her neck popping with each heave to shove crumpled notes into its slot—reminding you of an exasperated puppeteer and his uncooperative marionette.

The aggressive clashing and grating of metal ricocheted off the cream-colored walls of the small room, morphing into an ear-splitting symphony that made a few people wince.

A nurse across from you glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the commotion, before returning to his paperwork with a shake of his head. A few patients sat in chairs nearby, flipping through old magazines or staring blankly into space. They didn't seem to mind; they were used to this kind of chaos, you guessed. 

The vending machine let out a final "Error" beep and spit out a crumpled bill before falling silent once more. 

Ji-An cursed under her breath and slumped against it, sucking in a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down. You almost scoffed at the sight of it. Like Uncle, like niece. Maybe hate is like a gene; as long as you teach it, it will be passed down.

Still, she wasn’t crying, not at all. She was just angry and you desired to meet her under other circumstances where she wasn’t a bundle of nerves, grief, and anger. Circumstances that involved leaving Dad and Babylon behind. Circumstances where Jeong Jin-Man had taken you with him—circumstances where you lived together in a pastel-hued cabin tucked away amidst verdant forests, enclosed within a pristine white picket fence—an Eden pregnant with fruit-laden apple and peach trees backed up those fanciful mental paintings. 

A porch with a wicker chair and a small table, where you could place a vase filled with wildflowers you picked together on walks through the forest. Inside, there would be a kitchen that always smelled of freshly baked bread and coffee. The countertops would be cluttered with jars of homemade jam. The fridge would be covered in magnets from places you had visited together—Paris, Tokyo, New York. In these circumstances, Jin-Man would tease you about your green thumb, but he would secretly love the fresh basil in his pasta. On weekends, you would work together in the garden, your hands dirty with soil, the sun warming your skin. You would laugh as you chased each other with the garden hose, spraying water and creating rainbows in the sunlight.

You always kind of wished you had met as kids, back when you were missing your front teeth and he was stealing from small markets. Maybe you would have shared a lollipop, or he would have pushed you on a swing at the playground. You could have built forts out of blankets and chairs in the living room, pretending to be explorers or knights on a quest. 

Parts of you were still girlish and soft and your heart was unguarded. You wish he had met you then. You think he could’ve stayed.

Too bad you'll never be that girl again, huh?

“Anger doesn’t suit you, darling,” you said as you approached her. There’s no need to hide anyway. Snatching the ID from a doctor and her clothes had been surprisingly easy—a well-timed distraction with a spilled cup of coffee and a conveniently unlocked locker. So, yeah, no need to hide. You just need Ji-An’s key and pretend you’re innocent. “It's like an overgrown coat. There’s no threat and you’re not a dog. Don’t bare your teeth.” You leaned against the machine, feeling the cold metal against your left side and the chill creeping into your bones. You tilted your head to look up at her. Damn the Jeong’s and their genetics.

Ji-An froze when she heard your voice from behind her. She turned slowly, glaring at you with those same intense eyes as Jin-Man’s, yet they were filled with anguish rather than curiosity, like when he looked at you as you used knives in missions. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, ready for a fight or ready to break down in tears—you couldn't tell which. But what you did know was that you were right; anger didn't suit her. It made her look fragile and vulnerable, despite the tough exterior she tried to maintain. 

She looked exactly like him. The same sharp jawline, the same piercing eyes. A small pendant dangled from her neck, catching the dim light of the hallway. It read "Ji-An" in delicate, cursive letters. You noticed the brand of her training jacket—Nike, worn and slightly frayed at the cuffs, hinting at long hours of use. Her black leggings were adorned with the logo of a cheap athletic brand, and her sneakers were scuffed and dirty, evidence of countless miles run.

Visibly shaking now, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out before speaking through gritted teeth. "What did you just say?" she whispered. And this time, as clear as the words of a parrot or a redskin whose tongue had been cut off, the phrase was unmistakable: "Who the fuck are you?"

You smiled gently, feigning innocence. "Just a concerned doctor, trying to help," you replied smoothly. "I couldn't help but notice your struggle with this little guy here."

She scoffed. “Concerned doctor, huh? What kind of doctor goes around giving unsolicited advice to strangers?” A single tear slid down her cheek before she wiped it away roughly, revealing reddened skin beneath where she had been scratching herself earlier. Her nails were bitten down to the quick, small crescents of dried blood visible at the edges.

“The kind that cares,” you said, offering her a warm smile. “And the kind that knows a thing or two about stubborn machines.” You reached out and gave the vending machine a firm tap on the side, the metal groaning in protest. This close, you could see the slight tremor in her hands and the growing redness around her eyes. “Sometimes, all it takes is a gentle touch. Can I?”

Ji-An hesitated, her eyes flicking between you and the vending machine. Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh and stepped aside, allowing you to approach the devil in metal and gears. As you moved closer, you could feel her eyes boring into your back, every muscle in her body tense with barely contained anger.

You kneeled down, pretending to inspect the machine. "They really should replace them. My brother works in maintenance; maybe I can put in a good word. Still, I can manage it for now.”

Ji-An narrowed her eyes at you, skepticism etched on her face. "Your brother, huh? And you just happen to know how to fix vending machines too?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

You gave a nonchalant shrug. "What can I say? It's a family thing." Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your ID, sliding it into the coin slot as if it were a makeshift tool. As you did, you noticed a small panel on the side of the machine that was slightly loose. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching too closely, you subtly pried it open with the edge of the card.

Inside, the machine's inner workings were a tangle of wires and gears, some of which looked worn and outdated. You carefully maneuvered your fingers, adjusting a misaligned lever and reconnecting a loose wire. The machine let out a soft whirr as it came back to life, the lights flickering slightly before stabilizing. You could hear the faint hum of the compressor kicking in and the clinking sound of coins inside the hopper.

"These old models always have issues with the coin mechanism," you said, half to yourself and half to Ji-An. "A couple of the gears tend to get misaligned. That's probably why it wasn't taking your money."

"Yeah, well, it's been one of those days," Ji-An muttered, folding her arms across her chest. She shifted from foot to foot and her eyes darted around the hallway, as if expecting someone to appear and drag her away from this frustrating situation.

"I know the feeling. Sometimes it seems like the universe just wants to mess with us.”

With a few more movements, you managed to dislodge the stuck pack of cigarettes. It finally dropped down, landing with a dull thud on the ground. Ironically, it rolled slightly before stopping at Ji-An's feet. 

“Fuck! Finally!”

She bent over to pick it up, slamming it against the machine in triumph before turning towards you. Her expressive eyes flashed with anger and something else—recognition? Grudging acceptance? It was hard to tell with all the emotions swirling around like a hurricane inside that small space behind them.

As she bent down, you saw your chance. Her training jacket pocket was slightly open, revealing the edge of a keyring. With drilled ease, you slipped your fingers into the pocket and retrieved the keys, all while keeping your expression neutral and your movements casual.

Ji-An straightened up, clutching the pack of cigarettes tightly in her hand. "Thanks.”

"No problem. Just doing my job." You stood up and dusted off your hands, slipping the keys into your own pocket discreetly. "I hope you find some peace, Ji-An."

She looked taken aback for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. "How do you know my name?" 

You gave her a knowing look, tapping the name pendant around her neck lightly. "It's right there," you said with a small chuckle. "Take care, okay?" 

Ji-An's eyes followed your finger, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Yeah, thanks. You too, I guess."

As you walked away, the keys safely in your possession, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. But you pushed it aside. You had what you needed. 

“By the way," Ji-An called out, making you pause. "Do you work here often? I don't remember seeing you before."

You turned back, giving her a casual smile. "I'm new here. Just transferred from another hospital. Maybe that's why."

She nodded slowly, still clutching the pack of Marlboro Reds. "Well, thanks again. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," you replied, turning on your heel and heading down the hallway. The keys jingled softly in your pocket. The game was on.

[history-stan]

OKAY so I saw a post about making an Undertale Christmas Party type thing with a bunch of Bills (courtesy of @foundfamilyeric), so I decided to join+make a bit of an informational post on my witch Bill!

And so, I present to you...

Bill on the Boiling Isles AU summary

Now, for those of you who don't know what The Owl House is, let me give a bit of a small explanation:

The Owl House is a show about a teenage girl named Luz Noceda. Attached below is a picture of Luz Noceda:

Luz Noceda is a strange (likely neurodivergent) teenage girl who doesn't really fit in with her peers. She's a lot like Mabel, in a way—fun, emotional, a bit impulsive, very imaginitive. She's also pretty smart, as well as obsessed with magic.

Anyways, Luz finds herself in the demon realm, which is where witches live. Witches, of course, can produce magic. They do this by drawing circles in the air. This specific place in the demon realm the girl ends up is known as The Boiling Isles, which is run by Emperor Belos, a tyrant who insists on witches joining covens and only using said coven's magic for the rest of their life. However, there's one witch who's very adamant on NOT following this stupid rule, and that is Eda Clawthorne, also known as "The Owl Lady." Below is an image of Eda:

Because Eda refuses to follow Belos' system, she's a wanted criminal—however, she's a really powerful witch, too, due to her ability to use ALL magic. She makes a living selling human things to other witches (also in season 1 episode 2 it's mentioned that she sells potions, but I can't remember if that ever comes up again, so I'm not counting that). There's also a popular theory that she's Stan's ex-wife, Marilyn, who stole all of his winnings in Vegas.

Now, another important character is King. Attached below is a picture of King:

He's a silly little guy. Literally no one knows what he is other than a silly little guy. He swears he used to be the King of Demons (hence the name "King") and someone ended up being changed into this silly little guy. Whatever the case, he's a silly little guy who believes he's meant to be some tyrant overlord.

Another thing to mention: notice how Eda's staff has an owl at the top of it? That owl is Eda's palisman, Owlbert. A palisman is a statuette that's carved from a magical tree that bonds with their owner via strong emotional conviction. At times, the palisman will be in staff form, sitting motionless at the top, but other times, the palisman may be off the staff, acting as a familiar or helper for its owner. They can even telepathically speak with their owner. Attached below is an image of Owlbert off of the staff:

Anyways, with that out of the way, time to get into...

The Condensed AU Summary

So, Bill has been in the Theraprism for quite some time now, so the Axolotl talks to him to check out what's the problem. Bill, being Bill, is obviously like "therapy is stupid and I want to have my powers back and leave this place because this SUCKS." And so the axolotl is like "but you haven't made any progress." Bill, again, being Bill, says something along the lines of "well this is stupid and obviously not working. Just give me my powers and let me leave." And the axolotl thinks for a moment before telling him "okay, but you'll have to face your greatest enemy if you do this." And Bill is all sarcastic and replies, "What? Are you going to send me to work at the Mystery Shack? Because I've read all those fanfictions about me, and it's both cliche and dumb" (obviously no hate to those who DO write fanfics like that, I just think it'd be a funny fourth wall break moment). The axolotl says something along the lines of "not exactly, talk to the Owl Lady" before Bill is given his new physical form and dropped into the middle of a forest.

Bill immediately notices that his form is human-ish, but he doesn't realize WHERE he is yet. When he finds the town of Bonesborough, though, he realizes that this is the Boiling Isles and that he helped a loser witch hunter human named Philip Wittebane (who he now hates for reasons Bill refuses to explain) build a portal to help him get back to Earth. However, because of his transformation, he doesn't remember where the portal is or how to build it. That's when he notices a stand selling human stuff, and. when he looks closer, it's actually real. He talks to the lady selling them and asks where she got all of this stuff. Obviously, the lady tells him they're from the human realm, and Bill asks if she has a portal. She dodges the question.

This goes on for quite some time until a guard tries to arrest both the lady AND Bill (apparently, talking to a criminal means you're fraternizing with them). Bill, still thinking he's a human, tries to physically fight the guards, but obviously, this doesn't work. The lady, seeing how Bill is trying to fight off the guards, decides to step in and help him, and long story short, she ends up taking him back to the Owl House to lay low for a bit. The lady introduces herself as Eda the Owl Lady asks him why he didn't use magic, and Bill's like "because I'm a human?" And Eda's like "you literally have pointy ears, you're a witch." That's when Bill finally notices that he IS a witch, and thus DOES have powers. The Axolotl gave him what he wanted—he gave Bill powers and let him leave.

Except, Bill doesn't know how to use these powers. How's he supposed to have fun with his magical abilities if he can't use them? Eda asks him if he's learned how to use his magic. Bill's like "obviously I have, I'm an adult witch, obviously I know magic." Eda's all skeptical and asks him to cast a spell. Bill refuses, giving the excuse of his magic being too strong and it would probably kill Eda in an instant. Eda keeps pressing and Bill (feeling extremely insecure and vulnerable) explodes and tells her that yes, okay, he doesn't know how to use his powers YET, but he's fine, he can learn to do magic on his own, and that he doesn't need any help before leaving the Owl House.

Bill lives on the streets for a while, trying to learn magic as best he can while evading the emperor's guards. Him and Eda cross paths sometimes, Bill always making a point to tell her that he's doing GREAT on his own (he really isn't), but after almost being caught by the emperor's guards multiple times, he decides to FINALLY swallow his pride and go to Eda for help. When he finally does, Eda acts all smug and goes "oh? I thought you were fine on your own" and Bill's like "well yeah, I am, but if you're offering, I GUESS I'll accept." Eda says that he CAN stay, but if he wants to, he'll have to work for her. Bill's against this at first, but begrudgingly accepts.

So, Bill now lives in the Owl House and works for Eda, but he still insists on figuring out magic on his own. He actually grows quite close with King—he basically considers him a Junior Henchmaniac because of his drive for conquering kingdoms. Anyways, Bill keeps trying to figure out magic on his own, but is kind of struggling. Eda sometimes gives him some pointers, but Bill's like "I don't need your help!" After a while, however, Bill decides to actually try and TAKE the advice, and sure enough, the spell works. This causes Bill to trust Eda slightly more, and over time, he learns how to harness his magic pretty well.Still, he doesn't FULLY trust Eda—besides, he can still figure things out on his own.

Eventually, Eda decides that Bill's learned enough magic and is now ready to carve his own palisman. As a final test, she takes Bill on a heist, having Bill use the magic he's learned to steal the wood from the Boneborough garden club. He passes, and Eda teaches him how to carve. Bill decides to carve an axolotl (I have no reason for this other than it's funny), and when it's done, Eda tells Bill that in order for the palisman to wake up, he needs to tell it what he wants. Bill, being Bill, is like "I want to take over Earth and start the apocalypse and also get revenge on the Pines family for basically forcing me into therapy." Despite how driven he feels, the palisman doesn't wake up. Eda is super confused and slightly concerned, while Bill is frustrated. That's his end goal, and he feels so strongly about it, so why won't the damn this just WAKE UP?

Anyways, Bill is really moody for a while, trying to get his palisman to become animate or change into its staff form. This is WAY worse than the theraprism. He's come so far, and it's been for NOTHING? Bill's convinced that there's NOTHING that could make this any better.

Enter Luz Noceda.

I won't give too many spoilers, but season 1 of The Owl House happens. Bill gets character development. He learns to trust Eda more. At some point, Luz manages to break down his walls slightly (she's really good at that). Eventually, some time during either late season 1 or early season 2, Bill's kind of venting to his little axolotl palisman, and at some point, he says something along the lines of "I guess I've been alone for so long that I've forgotten how it feels to have a family. I... actually like this. I don't want to lose it again."

That's when it happens. In a flash of vibrant blue light, the axolotl statuette comes to life. The axolotl introduces themself as Frillson, but Bill doesn't reply. He's in complete shock. Bill realizes 3 things in that moment:

1. He actually admitted to seeing Luz, Eda, and King as family

2. This whole time, his strong, emotional conviction was not AT ALL related to Weirdmaggedon or his hate for the Pines—it was because he didn't want to be alone

and

3. The axolotl statuette he was just vulnerable with could hear him the whole time.

Anyways, seasons 2 and 3 happen, and Bill gets even MORE character development, and by the end, even though he's still a snarky, sarcastic jerk at times, he's also a bit more open, compassionate, and vulnerable than original Bill.

Attached below is an image of Bill in this AU:

Attached below is an image of Frillson when off the staff:

Now, with THAT out of the way, here's a few...

Bill tidbits

-Bill's witch form is short (only 5'3"), and he's kind of (extremely) insecure about it.

-Despite being really adept with his new magic, he's still not as powerful as he used to be. He's also pretty insecure about this.

-Despite the fact that Bill can no longer read minds, Frillson can read minds and tell Bill what people are thinking.

-When off the staff, Frillson will typically hide under Bill's hat.

-Bill keeps a lot of important things under his hat. This includes a picture of him, Luz, Eda, and King took together.

-Despite the fact that Eda and Bill are NOT romantically involved, King sees Bill as a father figure.

-Bill has accidentally called Luz "shooting star" on multiple occasions.

-Bill found pictures of Eda and Stan's Vegas wedding and he flipped out. Ever since then, he's been getting on her about her "horrible taste in men".

-If someone brings up the name "Philip Wittebane" around Bill, they should be prepared for him to go on a rage-filled tirade, talking about he's a "pathetic loser witch hunter who wasn't even that cool, and even though he thought he was smart, he wasn't, he was just jealous that his brother got a hot witch girlfriend and he didn't." He hates Philip Wittebane just as much, if not more, than Stan.

-Bill will never bring up WHY he feels such a strong hatred for Philip Wittebane. He always just says "personal reasons."

And now, for Christmas party reasons, attached below is a concept for Bill's sweater:

[lilac-rose-writes]

Hey....Can you do some..... Cindix or felozzy hcs.....dies...

i don't think i've ever actually made cindix hcs before! here you gooo <333

cindy likes to write him love letters even as they continue to get older. they go from colourful scribbles to cute little legible messages. cindy always puts hearts in place of the tittles on her is, but when she's writing to felix, she doodles extras around or as a border. she has a stack of pink & blue paper to write them up onto. she likes slipping him little love notes in class when they're in high school and watching him turn bright red in the desk beside her. felix ends up picking up the same habit, writing long winding flowery letters in pretentious cursive with his rich boy fountain pen for her

when cindy plays house, she always calls the mother & father dolls cindy & felix. he finds out and is flustered beyond belief. she declares he's a father now of this cheap little woolen doll and he immediately becomes far too attached. ted is so confused. "i'm a father now, teddy, i don't have time to deal with your petulant whining". felix loves ditching him to spend time with cindy <3

felix likes to pamper cindy. she's always loved anything shiny & accessories, so he buys her all sorts of little gifts and trinkets to show he cares about her. felix struggles with saying "i love you" itself aloud, but he does his best to convey it in other ways like holding her hand or offering a fancy necklace whenever they spend time together

despite felix's struggle with saying "i love you" itself, he is a sucker for sappy nicknames. they are absolutely godawful. honeysuckle, sugarplum, my angelic flower, etc. cindy calls him babe and he comes out with "of course, my darling, delicate rosebud". felix is so unbearably smitten

cindy & felix are the definition of "ily" "i love me too" & it works both ways <3

they adopt a cat. you cannot tell me that felix isn't a cat person. cindy gets gravy and he is immediately attached. he insists that if they ever break up, he still gets visiting rights. he buys gravy all the best cat food, toys & beds. "why call the poor thing gravy?" "i didn't! the dumpster hag named her before i took her in" "wh- dumpster hag?!"

they bully children on roblox together. watch out seven-year-olds on dress to impress, cindix are here and they are slaying. their outfits are top tier. cindy keeps trying to bypass the swear filter, everything she makes is pink. felix falsely reports everyone who insults cindy. he gives everybody one star at most then cindy 5/5. (i have never played dress to impress, i am going off of knowledge from fashion famous when i was 7 and a duncanyounot video my sister showed me)

for all felix cares for cindy, he cannot stand her gum chewing. any chewing sets him off, he despises the sound of it. she does her best to remember not to have any around him, but it's a bit of a struggle when she nearly always has some in her mouth

cindy doesn't like the -ilys and felix immediately picks up on that. they aren't poor so he can't bully them for being urchins, but that's not enough to quell his disdain. he sees lily in the school debate team and immediately declares them arch-rivals (lily is so confused). he taunts billy about having "lost" cindy to him (billy could not care less). he's so proud of himself every time he thinks up a new insult for them

cindy admires felix's flamboyance, felix admires cindy's strong will. cindy doesn't know how he manages to keep so many words in his brain, but it sure is useful when she needs some help with her homework. felix doesn't see her as lesser for not understanding it; as much as he belittles ted for being in the "dumb class", he respects cindy far too much to do the same to her. his extravagant bows, entrances and hand waves make cindy giggle a lot

[ultra-raging-ghost]

Im real nervous main tagging this because ive said my main peace and i dont wanna clog the tag up, but i will say after some context given i have a couple more thoughts?

tw// SA, r//pe mention, etc.

This will be a controversial statement. Me personally, i dont really honestly care? About what he said? It was eight years ago and he hasnt repeated the actions so i dont honestly and truly care what he did eight years ago, he was 19 then hes like 26 now theres honestly and truly a BIG maturity distance between 19 and 26, but also it was. Eight years ago? Thats all i have to say on that?

I Also dont really care for how it was brought to light, from what ive heard from pt speakers the expose was done by someone whos publicly anti towards the Brazilian CCs and ive heard they've dug up some dumb things about pac that werent "hot" enough to get trending i guess and definitely werent condemnable enough to get him cancelled, so it's honestly and truly in my heart something i see as being done in bad faith.

Alongside this, ive seen translation screenshots from one of the "victims" (not sure her stance on being called this so its in quotes) stating she does NOT want to be aligned with these allegations and has changed her username and profile picture because she honestly doesnt wanna be involved and doesnt want it being spread around, this is something else i view as bad faith and if anyone was affected by this then its the best thing to do as they wish, this not only affects the person being called out but also their victim negatively, especially if the victims profile is easily attached to their real life and especially when the victim is a female victim of assault or rape or anything like that, i hate to say it but as an afab person ive seen it firsthand that thats honestly the culture surrounding assault victims, and most people dont want that being brought up or put out in the public. Im a victim myself - people view you differently, it affects platonic and romantic relationships, it affects jobs, you are actively hurting the victim by spreading this if they dont want you to do so and arent prepared for that to be spread around.

From what ive seen, some people are condemning Forever for getting a lawyer - i dont view this as him being automatically guilty. I view this as him getting a lawyer because this person on twitter has been actively harassing not just him but all the brazilian CCs on the QSMP. This is harassment, the case against them will hold up in court and Forever has said he will speak about this more when everything is said and done

Alongside this, i will say im unhappy with Forever specifically for his statement on the situation. It wasnt handled the way we wouldve liked it, but it also wasnt handled via ukelele, it wasnt handled the worst way it could've been. Ive heard pt speakers say it was kind of formal, there was some slang in there but overall i've read the translated statement and to me it sounds more like a legal statement than anything - he mentioned having a lawyer, chances are the lawyer helped him write it. To me it doesnt sound like anything he'd fully say which is why i was so put off by it at first but this makes more sense to me honestly, i dont know if anyone would agree with this.

TL;DR

All in all, i think its a shitty situation but nothing to condemn Forever over. I ask people be thoughtful regarding the girl affected, and dont spread shit around with her name or profile attached to it unless she states otherwise. It was handled badly on Forever's end and blew up WAY too fast on twitter.

I've generally seen people be well behaved on here, ive seen some strong statements but otherwise i like to think we're better than twitter.

This probably wont be my last post on this as we get more on the situation over the next couple days, but this is my main thoughts right now. I'm still choosing to remain neutral, but more mixed than anything.

[mahs-dumpster]

"Happy 100th Anniversary."

a/n: this was SO FUN. But also. Floyd was incredibly hard to write. I hated every second of it. So it was fun but also not? Anyway. Also no oc x canon content can you believe this?? I didn't mention Kalim ONCE this feels wrong man

cw: maybe OOC Floyd but I did my best! Poor attempts at making this look like a translation post from a vignette

Template for the frames can be found here

Words: around 900

Jeanne: Ah… this place is gigantic, I feel like I'm never reaching the end of it. 

Jeanne: and I’ve yet to see any pictures of the– oh!

Jeanne: there it is! I’ve been looking all over for this one! 

Jeanne: it’s just as incredible as I’d imagine… 

???: Geez Codfishie, I didn't take you as the type to like art.

Jeanne: …and there's only one person in NRC who’d call me by such an irritating nickname.

Jeanne: Floyd. Do me a favor: stop with that habit. Either choose another nickname or just call me by my actual name, is that too much to ask?

Floyd: Who’s this guy? He has a funny looking face.

Floyd: Oh, look, he’s even got a hook just like you!

Jeanne: And now you’re ignoring me. *Sigh* That’s a pirate i’ve admired ever since I was young.

Jeanne: He’s been fighting a fae kid for ages, wanting revenge from the day he made him lose his hand. That’s why he uses a hook.

Jeanne: I know him because my dad used to tell me stories of this pirate, if I made a good job helping him out in his business he’d even give me a children’s book talking about him.

Jeanne: After I lost my hand, I’ve grown attached to his story. I related to his sense of justice, of wanting to make that kid pay for what he did.

Floyd: You never really told me how ya lost your hand, not that I care.

Floyd: But most importantly…

Floyd: A KID? SERIOUSLY?

Jeanne: H-hey! I said the little bastard was a fae!! He was probably years older than he looked!! 

Floyd: Right, right. Codfishie, I had no idea you admired such a loser! Losing his hand to a kid? What is he, an idiot?

Jeanne: Don’t speak that way about my childhood hero!! I’ll cut your throat open with my own hook if you keep that up!

Floyd: Oh? Codfishie wants to fight? Come at me!

Jeanne: You..! Ugh, whatever. When we go back to Octavinelle we will, just so I can make you swallow your words, dumbass.

Floyd: But that’s no fun…

Jeanne: Don’t look at me like that. If Azul catches us fighting in the museum it’s over for me and you so get over it.

Jeanne: I’l beat your ass soon enough.

Floyd: Oh, look at this one. The lighting is pretty intense, I like it.

Jeanne: It looks very pretty, yeah. Isn’t that the mermaid princess from the legends? Who’s the old geezer?

Floyd: I think it’s her father. This is probably depicting when he broke all her stuff.

Floyd: I think she was pretty dumb to go into a deal without knowing the consequences, but i guess she was desperate to leave after this. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s super stupid for that.

Jeanne: No, I get that. Desperate times call for deperate measures.

Floyd: That’s very uncharacteristic of you. You pity her or something?

Jeanne: I don’t, ok? But I was in a similar situation so I understand the thought process.

Floyd: Hm? You were? Why’d you let them detroy your stuff? Ya should've just squeezed them instead.

Jeanne: It was a punishment. I did something an authority figure didn’t like and they destroyed my toys in return.

Jeanne: I’m over it at this point, it’s been years since that happened. But I understand that, wanting to escape that situation. It’s hard to have a father like that.

Floyd: So it was your father?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Hey, look! It’s a painting of that warrior who saved her country!

Floyd: Where??

Jeanne: I’m so glad he has a short attention spam…

Floyd: This looks kinda cool. I like how the blade goes right in the middle.

Jeanne: Right? She looks so cool!

Floyd: You’re awfully excited for this one. You a fan of her too?

Jeanne: Hm… I wouldn't say I'm a fan, but she's super awesome, don't ya think?

Jeanne: She pretended to be a man to fight in the army in place of her father. Just the fact that she managed to make people believe she's a guy is incredible, and for so long too.

Floyd: That's not really hard for you.

Jeanne: Did you decide to wake up today and irritate me or something? 

Floyd: She also defeated that dude who tried to invade her country too, huh? Pretty bold. Who would’ve thought such a small thing like her could do all that.

Jeanne: That's because she's got something you men don't have: a brain.

Floyd: Hey now.

Jeanne: In comparison to men, us women have a biological disadvantage. Well, at least with actual humans, beastmen are a totally different story.

Jeanne: In terms of strength, she’d never defeat him, but in terms of wit… unfortunately for him she's incredibly smart.

Floyd: Stop, you're sounding like Azul now.

Jeanne: It’s the truth, physical strength isn't everything. At least one thing Azul got right.

Floyd: Ah, that sucks. Codfishie got boring all of a sudden.

Floyd: I’m leaving. 

Jeanne: Already? You get over stuff to quickly.

Jeanne: Don't lose yourself in the museum.

Jeanne: Ah, another painting of the pirate captain! And he’s fighting that kid too…

Floyd: Piss off.

Jeanne: he should’ve thought twice before he messed with a pirate. I'm sure he’s gonna make that brat pay for ever crossing his path.

[deadglittergirl]

" I didn't know you ever were " - chad meeks martin x !prescott reader

Synopsis : You were best friends with Chad, but you want to be more. However, you think he's into Tara. What happens when you see them almost kiss?! ( I love angry love confessions )

Tw: mentions of stabbing and harrasment also Out of character Tara, sorry, guys 🤗🤗

Chad was your best friend, and after moving away from woodsborough, yall were attached at the hip. You would never tell him, but you were hopelessly in love with him. All his sparky remarks,his laugh,smile,eyes,hair. You wanted him all, but it seemed he didn't want you.

He dragged you to this dumb frat party, and you hated being there. For most of the party, you sat next to Mindy and Anika ( you're closer friends besides Chad ). You got bored after a while of watching them swallow each other whole, so you just started drinking. One by one, you got a little more tipsy as you went to go get another beer you found that they were all out. You sighed out of frustration and because you just witnessed Chad talking himself up to go to Tara. Don't get me wrong, you loved Tara. In fact, you've known her since you were a freshman all though yall didn't nesscarily talk that much. Yall both knew each other existed. As you're searching around for at least one beer to drown out the thought of them together.

As you continue your search, you feel a presence behind you. " They're all out, trust me I've searched everywhere," said a deep voice behind you. You turn around, annoyed. " Are you for real? " " dead serious, " he replies ," you sigh out of annoyance as he continues to try to hold the conversation. You realized the situation. You , a drunk girl looking for a beer and him , a frat boy trying to hook up with a drunk girl. You gave it some thought but honestly you were gonna see how this plays out.

" my names tristin, where you from? " He asks, you give him a quick look then look down. " I'm y/n and I'm from.. Michigan. " you reply as quickly as you could. " oh cool, anyways I think there is some tequilla upstairs if you wanna come with to go grab it?" He asks. If you were sober you probably would've flipped him off and walked away from him. But, your drunken self decided to give him one look up and down and decided that it would be a good distraction so you said " yea, sure let's go ".

You start walking towards stairs when you feel a hold on your arm. You turn around quickly and see that it's just Anika and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. " Hey, I think it's about time we head home what do you think y/n/n ?" I glance at her then him " no it's okay , I'm good here but if you wanna go home go ahead! " As you both started walking away.

You start small talk while going up the stairs when you feel another presence behind you. You automatically could tell who it was. Chad. You turn around and look to see that Tara was glued to his side and your face falls slightly. Only Anika noticing, she knew your crush on Chad.

" howdy partner, y/n's good down here " Chad says with a protective tone, tristin hardens his hold on you " what was that bud? " Chad glares at him and laughes with a mocking tone " uh yeah you did." He looks at you as you start walking down the steps. you sigh " Chad really it's fine I want to !" As you walk up to him. Tristin or whatever by now you've forgotten his name in your drunken state. " Yeah Chad she wants to" getting up in Chad's face than grabbing your forearm and dragging you up the stairs. " ow what the fuck "

Chad got more pissed at that and yanked the dude off the stairs and off of you. " how about you get your fucking hands off her dickwad. " they start shoving each other " guys guys fucking stop " you say as you get up with mindy's help. All of a sudden Sam enters with a fucking tazer and interrupts them and yells " Yeah excuse me a sec let me just taze you in the balls for a sec" as she does it you stand there in shock.

You didn't know what to do. You felt like this was all your fault. Chad getting into a fight, Sam getting out of the house even thought she hates it, and ruining Mindy and Anika's makeout sesh. Which you weren't that upset about the last one. Tara yells at Sam which snaps you out of thought. All of a sudden you just yell " guys just get the fuck out of the house " everyone turns to look at you in shock. As you storm out of the house, you weren't even angry infact you felt like bursting into tears. You're walking down the sidewalk to your shared apartment as you hear the group approach you. You turn back to see that they stopped walking while looking at you.

" What?" You say, your voice slightly shaking from all the thoughts in your mind. They all slowly step up then Anika asks " you okay ? " the truth is you weren't but you're not letting that out especially not with Chad and Tara there. All of a sudden you see Sam is right next to you. She slightly whispers in your ear " what were you thinking y/n , you know your mom said to stay out of trouble! " this set you off. " Sam I could care fucking less about what my mom tells me " lies you loved your mom and you knew she'd be terribly disappointed in you. " I'm not your fucking sister, so why the fuck do you care so much. Why don't you worry about the fact that your real sister was at that fucking party?" You yell. Chad tries to chime " Hey guys, guys cmon". You can see Sam's anger in her eyes " well sorry for caring about you okay? Also at least my sister wasn't about to get fucking harassed by some frat! " your anger disappears by that, and now it's just fucking distress. You storm off and get home to hear Quinn getting it on with some boy toy. You roll your eyes and get in your room and slam the door.

A few minutes later , you hear everybody else walk in. You didn't get up, you were not apologizing as much as you wanted to you knew not too. You close your eyes whenever you hear Tara walking to her room. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. But, one thing that threw you off was the other feet you heard. Chad's. He was checking up on her.

You felt betrayed, you weren't sure why but you did. You decided to go get some water but you were not about to go into the kitchen so you just went into the bathroom that was connected to Tara and Quinns room.

You felt wrong for listening to their conversation, but you felt like you had to. It was a boring conversation overall that was until it got quiet and you heard Tara's door burst open and quinn say " oh my god did I just cockblock you, I'm so sorry but Sam needs all of us in the living room " you hear the two of them start denying things as you walk out not wanting to listen to the rest.

On your way out, you decided that you should at least see what Sam wanted and oh boy you wish you wouldn't have. " he's back " is all that came out of Sam's mouth when you walked out. You froze. No, why would he come back now it was just starting to go well. You swallow and just silently nod your head, and you sit down on the couch.

The tears were threatening to come out of your eyes. With what could've happend at the party, the Tara and Chad thing, and now this. You felt like you were exploding so when Chad came to sit by you all you could to was scoot away and near Anika and Mindy who both just wrapped their arms around you. Chad glanced at you confused then at Mindy who's gave him a " not now look ". You looked at Tara slowly. That's when Chad's gears started turning. Tara. You were jealous of Tara.

Anytime he was with her, you'd immediately tense up. He knew he had feelings for you early on, but he always buried them because he knew you wouldn't have liked him back. I mean, cmon, his friends practically made fun of you in school and always would put a shit ton of ghostface stuff on your locker. Why would you like him back. Only now he felt terrible way worse than he has ever felt before, and he's gotten stabbed. Tara knew about your thing for Chad. In fact, she was the first person you confided in about him. She felt slightly terrible about what she was doing but she wanted him and he chose her. At least, she thought he did.

You felt your heart start pounding as you glance over, and Tara is all over Chad. You felt sick. You quickly got up front the couch, turning everyone's attention to you. You hadn't been listening anyway. You rushed to your room and opened the window right after slamming the door shut.

Chad quickly gets up and goes to your room with a quick " I'll check on her. " He knocks on your door quietly as you let out a small " come in. " he felt terrible. But he knew he had to get you to confess so he can confirm if he's right.

You glanced up at him and turned away from him quickly. " Yes? " You ask him. " Can I not check up on you? " You scoff, "why don't you go check up on your girlfriend Tara chad?" He looked at you with sorrow filled eyes. " we aren't together you know. " you sigh out of anger now " oh really Chad, I wouldn't fucking know that because she's always attached to you at the hip and by the fact that you're ALWAYS comforting her and never fucking doing anything with me. " You slightly raise your voice. He scoffs " so I can't be fucking friends with people? Also why the fuck do you care so much, you didn't seem to care when you were about to get fucked by that frat boy. " He raises his voice back matching your tone. " BECAUSE IM FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU CHAD. I was only going with that fucking frat boy because I was drunk and dad after seeing you with Tara. There's your fucking answer." You yell back. He looks taken aback. Nonono why did I tell him that , this was so stupid. " Okay look im sorry for yelling at you but I can't sit here knowi-" you get cut off as you feel a pair of lips on yours. Chad's kissing you. Fuck it, they're not technically together so it's not cheating. You kiss back, you continue kissing each other then pull back taking some air

" I'm in love with you, and I didn't know you ever were in love with me. " Chad says , you look up at him with soft eyes." Not were , I still am. "

A/n : This was so fun to do holy shit!

Dt: @alanasblogasf

[pasteloctoz]

Damihux

Christmas ass lookin colors

My favorite couple bc these beautiful specimens need more appreciations.

any trigger warnings will be seperated from the rest and put at the bottom (probably not too many, its just a precaution :])

Hux is pan n transmasc, Damien is queer.

Search up frederic chen on yt (love their content) the way they dress/do make up is how i imagine damien dresses especially after not talking to his mom as much (bc he doesnt feel the pressure of her looming over him anymore.) And ppl like gavin pushing him to try new things.

Hux does the thing that Nick does in Heartstopper. "I'm bi, not gay" but instead he says pan. Bc pan/bi representation is important!!!

Hux is African-American and his other mom is Puerto-Rican (is that how you spell it?) So he grew up with Puerto Rica culture. While Damien is Mexicana. Sometimes they'll use some random slang that they grew up with in their respective houshold and the other will be just- slightly confused as to what it means.

They have a cat named shrimp and huxley calls him their firstborn child. To which damien deems "stupid" or "dumb" while being so flushed hed practically be a working furnace

Hux looks at damien with that loveheart eye look where you just KNOW hes admiring his partner like theyre the only light in the world. When Damien notices he just asks, "....... what?....." while a bit flushed.

Huxley never had the money to get top surgery until after he graduated from Damn. His moms wanted to help pay but he insisted that they didn't have to worry about it.

Once he's gotten top surgery, Damien does nothing but worry and take care of him. They would be attached at the fuckin hip istg-

Hux's favorite game is Dark Souls and everytime Damien tries to play it he gets angry and eventually just ends up leaning on hux and watching him play.

Damien is a big fucking fan of the final fantasy games. But somehow the only time hes gotten Hux to play a game made by the studio is fucking kingdom hearts. (Nothing against kingdom hearts i love kingdom hearts)

Tw: Tabacco/Vape mentions, homophobia mentions, suggestive

If you find any of these triggering feel free to scroll past (it will be in small font like this), meanwhile have a picture of my dog :D

Damien is probably more likely to vape/smoke than hux bc of his anxiety. Hux would honestly be more of a clean lungs advocate (he doesn't judge ppl who use drugs though- its not his buisness).

Usually when ppl are being homophobic to the two, hux calms damien down but one time damien just grabbed hux by the cheeks and gave him a real sloppy kiss. Casually took hux's hand afterward and teasingly whispered "scared them off, didnt we?"

Like- we know hux is always gonna make the first move but you cant tell me there hasnt been atleast once where damien made hux so flushed roses were growing out of his locs.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Jake's suit

and why it's just cats,

a drabble by me 😽

including my thought process, my pure madness over this man:

Honestly Jake's suit will be just like Marc's but covered head to toe in cat hair just like his hat.

HE ALSO LETS THE CATS PLAY WITH HIS BANDAGES LIKE THEY ARE PAPER ROLLS OR YARN!

Nah it doesn't matter if they are destroying the suit they're cute!!

mental image of Jake returning home in a torn apart suit covered in scratches so you to rush to help him thinking he got hurt during the mission.

"Cariño, cariño- it's ok I'm fine, look!!"

And he turns his back to you with the silliest smile imaginable to show you a bunch of cats attached on his suit playing with the (remaining) fabric.

"I rescued them from a breeder! They were all living in cages, can you belive that?! How can someone- *poses to control his anger* ...anyway I took care of it now."

Then another kitten appears out of nowhere holding itself with its teeth on a loose bandage from his arm. Jake catches it gently, pets it and places it between his shoulder and neck to keep it warm.

"This is Bonita!"

"Oh! And this is Dulce, Catalina, Canela, Pepper, Mr. Gordito, Margarita, Princesa Esponjosa, Princesa Esponjosa El Segundo -I still haven't thought of a name for this one, you can name it if you want-, Steven calls this one Titi, short for Nefertiti, I told him it sounds dumb saying it out loud, he insists though... Anyway this is Carmen and Sebastian -I think they are dating-, Miedo, Noche, Salsa and last but not least... Churro!" *churro, a baby fluffy brown cat, climbs on top of his head and meows, accepting the name*

"So you except me to allow you to keep them all of them in our house?"

"Until I find them their forever home"

*And you look at him, and he looks at you, and you look at him, and Churro looks at you, and you look at him, and he meows again and-*

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah, sure."

*You adopted them all*

[ghostatas]

BENITO CHARACTER ANYLISIS THING BUT ITS NOT THAT GOOD JUST ALL MY THOUGHTS

FUCK SLEEPING I HAVE TOO MUCH ENERGY AMD THOUGHTS FOR THAT RN. ILL PROBABLY DO LUCIE NEXT IDK.

Can I just start this off by saying how good Quackity is at portraying a character and a storyline? We've seen it since dsmp, then qsmp now opq. He is just so good at it like, props to him.

Now into the juicy stuff. When we are first introduces to benito, he is kinda unlikeable. He is arrogant and cynical, thinks of himself as simply better than others. He says he will choose a soldier over a kid to save himself, and scolded the others for not being honest when they hadn't even answered yet (he was so wrong about himself). He held himself up to a standard and in very high regard.

He is constantly butting heads with Jeffrey, calling him pizza boy like he's demoting him in a way, comparing their statuses as he likes to point out he is a doctor all the time. He divides them. He is above them. Jeffrey is the lowest of the low, and he will never lower himself to that position. Yet at the end of the first episode, he doesn't want Jeffrey to die. He, despite what he says and how he justifies it and calls it research, wanted Amy (Emmi? I'll stick with Amy for now) to live. It was obvious the vials were a cure of some sort, and the papers described how it worked. He didn't need to experiment, but he wanted to save her regardless. He just didn't want to acknowledge it.

He starts to rely on the people around him. Its probably the first time he's done that. He most likely grew up in an unstable, dangerous position, which caused him to grow up into an ambitious, selfish person who didn't hesitate to step on others; or he would be the one stepped on. But now he is in a dangerous position again, however the people around him are actively trying to help eachother and supporting eachother. Benito is not used to this, and doesn't really know how to react, hence all the name calling and acting like his typical arrogant self.  He will, however, eventually think about saving their group, not just himself. He still very much distrusts others (Mikhail, Carla, though those two DEFINATLEY fukin deserved it, I'm totally still not mad about them), but he trusts the people in their circle. His people.

Enter episode 2. Benito wants mikhail DEAD, he will not trust a liar twice. But he's their only source of info, so he goes along reluctantly. Lucie dies.

Lucie dies trying to save Amy. He DESPISES Carla for trying to sabotage Amy. Not only because she tried to kill a kid, but that in turn also gave Lucie a harder time escaping. Benito says he helps Amy after that out of spite. I think it might be a part of it- a few hours won't change his entire personality- but only a part. He cares about Amy. Maybe it's because she's being forced to grow up in a world that wants to kill her all of a sudden. Maybe because she looks pitiful calling our for her dad even though she knows he's dead. Maybe it's because she reminds him of himself, ina way; just a massive ball of spite and anger and determination, all muddled up together. Who knows? What's definite though is that Lucie gave her life to protect this dumb, idiotic child, and letting the kid die would tarnish her legacy. (And isn't that a funny word, one we know Quackity likes).

Amy is Benitos priority. Whenever they're in danger, he's the first to remember her and immediately says "I'm taking her with me". Lets be real, i think we all agree that Carla was an ass for trying to kill her (we got attached to Amy too quickly it happens ik) and Benito was having none of her shit. Benito was trying to save all of them, in his own way. Because he cared, in his own fucked up spiteful way. He wants them safe, because he knows in this unknown world that suddenly got a lot more dangerous and scary, he has people that will care for and protect him and eachother.

When they all escape, benito feels like he has a purpose now. He wants to help people, or at least his family (cuz that's what they are now). He wants to properly learn medicine so he can better help those he cares about (and he cares so, so much). Maybe if he knew how to treat people better, Lucies leg would've been more healed and she couldvr run faster. Maybe they had an easier time escaping. But it's all in the past now, there's no changing that. He can only look to the future, no thinking of what ifs.

For Lucie. For Amy. For himself. For his family. (He'll continue to deny it though, cuz he's an ass. We love him for it.)

If other people want to share stuff or deny shit I say I'm all for it I just need these thoughts OUT, no matter how incoherent they are. Might do some art later too if I can be bothered :D