#i rly like the first one though ^_^ i like the second too but again. the horrors

[wuntrum]

more orvilles :)

[boimgfrog]

maybe I'd enjoy fantasy books more if the genre wasn't completely saturated with the exact same white girl special + dark elf bad boy + bad world building. honestly I just can't do the vaguely European fantasy stuff, it's been done to death I feel.

[pepprs]

last few hours in boston :(

[dandyshucks]

if I try to mess with the eyes on the first one anymore I'm going to lose my mind DBDNDML so here have some self insert art,,,, also the houndoom was largely copied from someone else's art (dvixie/SkyVixie on deviantart, the art seems to have been taken down from their gallery though, I just found the art on pinterest and then had to track down the artist fjfkdl idk why ppl repost art with no credit 😭), I was trying to just get a feel for drawing them so I figured (HEAVILY) referencing someone else's piece would be alright for this sort of personal art thing!!

[vagabond-umlaut]

you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[runariya]

🥸🤫☠️ : JK

He wants something 🤫 as down payment before he lets u inside safe haven (a place where survivors go to seek refuge)

(yandere+smut+apocalypse) part of the prompt game pairing: metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader genre: apocalypse!AU, S2L, yandere-ish? warnings: survival after nuclear fallout, dark creatures, denied prostitution for safety, Jungkook is whipped from the start so that should suffice for yandere, foul language, smut, oral (f. receiving), squirting, JK comes in his pants, fluff, lmk if I forgot smth (still hate writing warnings) word count: 3.239 (upsiiii)

a/n: I couldn't rly make JK more yandere without it feeling a bit too dub-con, so I hope that's alright 💕 also it's heavily inspired by the trilogy '2033' by Dmitri Gluchowski (and to my Russian readers: Московское метро выглядит так круто на фотографиях в интернете, надеюсь, однажды смогу его посетить☺️)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You’ve been wandering for what feels like years, though it could be months, or perhaps just weeks; time’s an abstract notion now, in this world broken to pieces and baked under a nuclear sun. 

With each step you take, the weight of exhaustion and your protective suit presses harder against your bones, but you don’t let it stop you. The world may be a dying beast, choking on its own ash and poison, but you still walk through it, a lone ember that refuses to snuff itself out. The remnants of cities whisper ghost stories to you as you pass, their bones twisted metal and crumbling concrete, charred earth for flesh. The wind sometimes hisses through the ruins, carrying tales of survivors—others like you, fighting, scavenging, enduring—and sometimes it’s silent, as if even the air is holding its breath for fear of what’s out there in the deep silence of the aftermath.

The black creatures—those twisted silhouettes of the apocalypse—roam the earth like shadows unbound from their hosts, moving through the poisoned fog with an unnatural grace that chills your very marrow. They are things of nightmares, remnants of the old world, perhaps, mutated beyond recognition by the fallout or born anew from the hatred that festers in the radioactive soil. 

Their eyes, if they have any, are voids, consuming light and hope in equal measure, and their movements are barely perceptible until it’s too late, until they are upon you, whispering your end in a language only the dead would understand. They hunt relentlessly, not for sustenance, not for survival, but as if driven by some primal force deeper than instinct, a desire not just to kill but to erase, to wipe away the last remnants of humanity like dust from the pages of a forgotten book. 

And you—battered, exhausted, teetering on the edge of oblivion—cannot rest, not here, not ever, because even in your sleep they find you, crawling into your dreams with their inky tendrils, reminding you that peace is a luxury no longer afforded to the living outside of shelter.

Your gas mask, an old friend now, covers your face like a second skin at this point, the filters clogged and heavy with days of dust, radiation, and fumes. You’ve noticed the way it pulls in air with more effort now, as if it’s trying to remember how to breathe. 

You check the filter again. It’s nearly gone, the little red marker ticking closer to empty with every breath you take. You’ll have to find something new soon or you’ll suffocate on the very air that should sustain you.

This isn’t the first time you’ve tried to find shelter. In those early days, the optimism hadn’t yet drained from your veins and the desperation to belong somewhere, anywhere, had clouded your better judgment. 

There had been men—those ones with teeth like wolves, eyes like death, always leering, always demanding. You’ve had to pull your knife more than once to remind them that your body isn’t for sale, that safety shouldn’t cost that much. That death, perhaps, is a kinder alternative to what they would have asked of you. 

You can still hear their laughter sometimes, echoing in your skull—mocking, cruel. You had fled from them, from their dark gazes and cruel hands, from the taste of fear that licked at your throat when their eyes lingered too long on your body. Better the damnation from outside than their promises of protection.

But today… today you find yourself at the mouth of the metro. The entrance yawns wide like a secret, and the shadow of it draws you in, as though it’s reaching out for you. Your steps falter, but only for a moment—just long enough to recognise the hesitation in your chest, the uncertainty gnawing still on your mind. The thought flickers briefly across your consciousness—what if the people down there are like those others? What if all you find is more violence, more degradation, more proof that humanity has shed its last skin and become nothing more than base instincts and brutality?

But the mask is running low, and you can feel that desperation is creeping back into your bones, burrowing deep. You tighten your grip on the strap of your pack, pushing the fear down, burying it beneath a layer of resolve. You’ve come this far; you won’t turn back now.

The entrance is quiet—eerily so, as you push the tall hermetic door open and step inside, closing it quickly after. You glance around, eyes scanning the wreckage for signs of life. There’s nothing at first, just the silent exhalation of wind and the low hum of the distant, underground world. Then, movement.

You hear him before you see him—a soft shuffling of boots against stone, the faint click of a weapon being cocked. You freeze, instinctively tightening your grip on your knife as he steps into view.

Tall. Taller than most of the men you’ve encountered in these forsaken times. Muscles sculpted from necessity, sinew and strength coiled beneath his clothes like a waiting beast. He’s staring at you through the mask, gun raised, the barrel pointing at your chest. For a second, neither of you move. Then his eyes flicker downward, just for a moment, taking you in, assessing, like all the others. You brace yourself for what’s to come.

But it doesn’t come.

“Take it off,” he commands, voice low, barely more than a growl. His weapon doesn’t waver, and his expression is hidden behind a mask, eyes glinting through the cracked visor.

You hesitate. There’s a moment where you think of running, but there’s nowhere to go. There’s only the metro behind him, and the world ahead, both full of uncertainties, both as equally capable of destroying you. You suck in a breath, let it fill your lungs like a final goodbye to the stale air in the mask, and then you reach up to peel it away from your face, your skin sticking to the rubber for a moment before it falls loose.

The air tastes strange on your lips—metallic, sharp, almost alien after all this time behind the mask. You lift your eyes to his, half-expecting some sort of reaction, maybe disgust, maybe lust. But instead… there’s something different there, something you hadn’t anticipated. His gaze softens, though his grip on the weapon remains steady. He stares at you as though you’re something out of place in this hellscape, something fragile, a curiosity more than a threat. His gun lowers, just slightly, but his eyes don’t leave your face, as he too rids himself of his mask. 

He’s younger than you thought. Ink spills across his skin—tattoos that ripple over his arm, dark lines twisting around muscles. You catch a glimpse of two piercings through his lip when he tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to figure you out, and then his lips curve, ever so slightly, not quite a smile but not quite hostility either.

“Shelter,” you say, your voice rough, the words like stones scraping against the back of your throat. You cough once, clearing the dust away. “I need shelter.”

He eyes you for a moment longer, his gaze wandering down your frame, but it’s not like before—not like the leering stares of the men who sought to take more than they were willing to give. This is different. There’s something almost reverent in the way he looks at you, as though the mere fact that you’re still standing here, after all this, after the end of the world, is enough to stir absolute disbelief in him.

“Alright,” he says, after a pause that seems to stretch out longer than it should. “We’ll see.”

He gestures with his head, motioning for you to follow him into the metro. You hesitate for only a heartbeat before stepping forward. The air inside is cooler, the shadows deeper in the few flickering candle lights, and for a moment, you think you can almost breathe easier.

“Wait here,” he says, nodding towards a bench half-buried in dust. “There’s a process. Need to fill out a form.”

You blink. A form? The absurdity of it almost makes you laugh—almost. But you’re too tired for laughter, too worn down by the world to even consider the possibility of joy. So, instead, you sit with an exhausted plop. You watch as he disappears for a moment, hear the soft scrape of papers being shuffled, and then he’s back, clipboard in hand, a pencil poised like a weapon in his grip.

He doesn’t sit down. Just stands there, towering over you, his presence impressive but not oppressive. You glance up at him, and there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you feel exposed—not in a dangerous way, but in a way that makes you feel seen for the first time in a long time. It’s unsettling.

He clears his throat, eyes flicking to the clipboard. “Name?”

You give it to him. He writes it down, slow and thoughtful.

“Age?”

Again, you’re honest, coughing right after. He writes again, his eyes lifting to your face between each question as if checking to see if you’re lying, or maybe just to remind himself that you’re real.

“Where did you come from?”

You answer, though the place you once called home feels distant, like something from a dream you can’t quite remember. His pen scratches the paper, and you almost lose yourself in the sound of it, that soft, repetitive scrape, the only noise in the otherwise still part of the metro.

“Any medical conditions? Injuries?”

You shake your head, your body numb to the aches and pains that have become part of you, the exhaustion that’s settled into your bones as permanent as the sorrow for the destroyed outside world.

He writes.

The questions continue. And all the while, his eyes keep returning to you, scanning your face as if he’s trying to commit every line, every shadow, to memory. You can feel his gaze lingering on your skin, not in a way that makes you want to shrink or hide, but in a way that makes you want to ask why he’s looking at you like that, why his lips keep twitching into something that almost resembles a smile, sometimes a pout. 

After what feels like an eternity, he finishes writing, his pen stilling against the paper. You think he’s done, that maybe this bizarre interaction will end and you’ll be allowed to rest, to sleep, to breathe for just a moment.

But then he clears his throat again. And this time, when he looks at you, there’s something different in his eyes. Something you can’t quite place.

“There’s one more thing,” he says, and the air between you feels too much like outside, chocking and not fit for you. 

You stiffen. You feel that old familiar dread curling up inside your chest again, clawing at your ribs. You’ve been at this stage before, the formality of it, the false promises of security, of kindness. The moment where it all comes crashing down, where the mask slips and you’re left standing there, alone and defenceless against the greed, the hunger that always lurks just beneath the surface of those too desperate to remember what it means to be human.

He sees the shift in you. You know he does. You see it in the way his brow furrows, the way he toys with his lip piercings as though he’s searching for the right words, something to say that won’t make you bolt for the hermetic door. He takes a breath, and for a moment, you think you might run, you think you might grab your mask and take your chances with the toxic air outside because anything—anything—might be better than this.

But then, he speaks.

“I—” His voice falters, and you see the muscles in his throat work as he swallows. His grip on the clipboard tightens, the knuckles going white. “I want to… I want to eat you out.”

The words hit you like a shockwave. You blink, stunned, and for a moment, you’re not sure you heard him correctly. Did he really just—? 

You stare at him, your mind racing, trying to process the absurdity of it, the strangeness, the unexpectedness.

He’s looking at you now, eyes wide, almost pleading. There’s no threat in his posture, no demand. Just… want. Raw and unfiltered. Like he’s asking for something he shouldn’t even be allowed to ask, but he can’t help himself. His breath is shallow, and you can see the way his hands tremble slightly, the tension in his body like he’s bracing for you to reject him, to walk away.

And maybe you should. Maybe you should get up, leave this place, leave him behind, leave all of this strangeness and vulnerability and run back into the wasteland where at least the dangers are known, where the air is poison but the intentions are clear. But instead, you sit there, frozen in place, your mind spinning, your heart pounding in your chest as you look at him.

He’s not like the others. That much you know.

He’s so painfully handsome, a rare sight in this broken world, and it’s been so long—too long—since you’ve felt the heat of another body, since before the fallout turned everything to pure survival. 

So, when the chance arises, when you catch the hunger in his dark eyes and feel the thrumming ache in your own bones, you seize it like a lifeline in the endless wasteland. Your fingers tremble as you pull the zip of your protective suit down, the rough fabric parting like a sigh, and you free your legs, peeling it off your lower half. You shift on the bench, boots still clinging to your feet as you raise them to rest beside you, and open yourself to him, your legs spread wide, exposing your cunt like a silent offering, need pulsing through your veins.

Jungkook barely hesitates. The clipboard thrown, clattering to the ground behind him, forgotten, his focus now laser-sharp on the sight before him, his eyes flickering wildly between your face and the growing wetness glistening between your thighs. He steps forward with a pull that feels almost sacred, falling heavily to his knees as if the ground beneath him is the only place he belongs. His warm, calloused hands trace their way up your bare legs, the roughness of his skin sparking something primal under your own.

He leans in close, close enough that you can feel his breath ghosting over your slick skin. He takes a deep breath, inhaling you, and the word falls from his lips like a prayer, “Fuck,” and then he’s there, tongue pressing into you with a hunger that’s suffocating, lapping at your cunt as if he’s desperate to prove himself worthy of it, as if he knows exactly how lucky he is to be granted this wish. 

A moan escapes your throat, unbidden, as his tongue forces its way into the tight heat of your hole, your hand reaching instinctively for his dark hair, fingers threading through the strands as you push your hips into his eager mouth. The sound that rumbles from deep within his chest vibrates against you, a groan of raw pleasure that seems to send waves of newfound pleasure coursing through your body, arousal dripping from you, coating his tongue.

“Taste so good,” he rasps between breaths, his voice rough and broken with want. “Fucking angel sent from heaven.” His gaze flicks upward, catching yours, his eyes wide with disbelief, adoration simmering beneath the surface despite the fact that you’re strangers, despite the fact that the world outside has crumbled to nothing.

You find yourself moving against him, riding the flat of his tongue, his fingers dancing over your clit in a rhythm that feels almost divine. His other hand grips your thigh, fingers pressing into your flesh with a kind of desperation, as though he’s terrified that if he lets go, you’ll disappear, that this will vanish like a dream.

“Yes,” you cry out, breathless and shaking, as he finds the perfect pace, the perfect pressure, his mouth and hands working together with an almost agonising precision. And neither of you can tear your eyes away from the other, locked in this frantic, desperate exchange of need and lust and something deeper you can’t yet name.

He gives you everything—every ounce of affection and euphoria you’ve been deprived of for months—and you can feel it in the way his own body trembles, the way his hips move mindlessly against nothing, rutting into the air as though he’s just as desperate to be filled with pleasure as you are.

“I’m close,” you gasp, your hand tightening in his hair, pulling him harder against you, urging him on, desperate for more, for him to push you over that edge.

And he listens, his tongue working with relentless skill, circling your clit with a pressure so precise it almost drives you mad, and then you feel it—your orgasm tearing through you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, shockwaves rippling through your body as you squirt onto his tongue, something you’ve never done before, the surprise of it lost in the haze of pleasure. Jungkook groans beneath you, greedily lapping up everything you give him, cleaning you with his mouth like he never wants to stop, his hips stuttering forward as he spills into his pants, caught in his own silent climax.

“Fuck…” he moans thickly and long, collapsing against your stomach as your legs tremble and fall to the floor, muscles too weak to hold them up any longer.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the silence between you filled only by the sound of your ragged breathing, the disaster of the world momentarily forgotten. But eventually, he pulls himself together, straightening up with a sheepish grin, adjusting his pants which are now damp with his own release, his expression cringing just slightly.

You quickly dress again, pulling your suit back into place, feeling a flush of heat creeping into your cheeks. There’s an embarrassment there, sure, but not disgust—not even close. If anything, there’s a strange sense of satisfaction, of relief, and you catch yourself hoping this won’t be the last time you see him, that he isn’t bored now that his hunger has been sated.

But as you reach for your pack, Jungkook’s voice breaks through the quiet, and he gestures for you to follow him deeper into the metro, his arm draping casually around your shoulders as if he can’t quite bring himself to stop touching you. “I’m Jungkook, by the way,” he says, a grin spreading across his face, his eyes bright with something that looks almost like joy—something you haven’t seen in anyone since the fallout. “You can stay with me if you want.”

There’s a pause, your heart skipping a beat at his offer, and you hesitate only for a second before whispering, “I’d like to stay with you, if that’s okay.”

He beams down at you, stars shining in his dark eyes like you haven’t seen in months, and he takes the opportunity to press a gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. “Good,” he says softly. “I’d like that too.”

PART 2

[leynaeithnea]

Diomedes

Ok so this wikipedia article was a LOT more elaborate than I expected, I just spend over two hours going through it and making notes Nobody asked for it but here are my notes on Diomedes, theyre not consistent, i changed style and detail a few times, but alas here we go:

Diomedes:

strong defender of justice, deserves better

lost a lot of people

warrior very young

athenas favorite warrior

his fathers glory (and shame)

breast plate from haephestus

shield from his father blessed by athena

fathers sword

spear

boars, lion

most expiereneced warrior of achaeans

doesnt like achilles

brought 80 ships

Sthenelus, chariot driver, best friend, epigoni

youngest of the kings

(post homeric: offered immortality, divinified)

helped Odysseus kill Agemenons daughter

helped Odysseus kill Palamedes (bitch deserved)

brave, NOT haunted by hubris

wounds both ares and aphrodite (same day) and attacts apollo, but withdrew in time

granted divine sight to see immortals (on that day)

grew up way too soon

big battle when 14

more level headed than Ody (can take an insult)

doesnt hesitate to call out bs

“let him go or stay, the gods will make sure that he will fight��� (hc: he tried, very humbled by the gods)

athena joined his fight once, driving his chariot and guiding his spear

“friends” with glaucus (trojan) (“i wont fight more immortals” “bro, our grandparents were bros”, “ok give me your gold armour, ill give you my bronze one”)

saves Nestor (ody runs away when he asks for help :(

wants to kill hector so he doesnt get taunted (Nestor says no, Zeus says no 3x /+1 lighting) he eventually turns back and gets taunted, he kills another guy

he attacks the trojans at night and wins, after hector boasted, in the end diomedes is the one worshipped as immortal

agamnenon wants to leave, Dio says hes a bad leader (yes), and that he’ll stay to fight the city that is doomed to fall, even with zeus fighting for the trojans, nestor says he has no better idea, proposed to appeall to achilles with gifts (ody and agamenon agree), they fail, Dio tells them “told you so” (but it doesnt matter anyway, theyll win)

he sleeps outside his tent in armour (they wake him n others at night for council about spies, Dio volunteers, he gets to pick a second, he goes for Ody, ody didnt rly want to go, Dio choose him anyway despite deserting him)

Dio and ody face the spy of the trojans Dolon, (hiding between corpses) he almost runs away but Athena “is fighting to be known” doesnt want someone else to strike first, so she makes Diomedes throw the spear and orders him to stop, Dolon tells them good gossip, including white horses, Dio kills him

they do some more bs, like killing people in their sleep (dio) and stealing horses (ody) dio considers unaliving more until athena suggests he may stop so other gods dont get jealous

both kings are good at being stealthy AND open combat

Rhesus horses are badass (first sign for the fall of troy), Dio gets them (bedding gift?), people without the horses and king leave W for the achaeans

Lord of War Cry

dio throws a spear at hector, apollos helmet saves him, but he mingles with the crowd, first time that Dio speaks back and calls him a dog (even the best men loose their temper at times)

Paris shoots his foot, (fucking moron blasts about it, Dio gives him a verbal lashing) he withdraws under cover of Odysseus, ody gets an ouchy

agamennon wants to flee (again), Dio tells them they should just let themselves get wounded again

Dio wins all funeral games of patroclus (though wounded) – Athena makes sure of it – draws first blood in the fight with Ajax, they stop him worried he’d kill him

Athena appears to him undiguised, Athenas favorite

kills some amazons, Achilles kills his cousin (who was a bitch), dio mourns him though and wants to have achilles punished

Dio and Ody bring Achilles son to Troy after Achilles death (bc they could not win the war without him there)

Ody and Dio sent to negoiate for peace after Paris’ death (by poised bow that the two of them stole?)

dio and ody gotta steal a statue of athena, ody disguises himself as beggar at night, dio follows later and brings the statue out

Ody tries to stab him in the back?? (to get the glory himself???) Dio catches it and ties him, and shoves him infront of himself, but refrains from punishing him because they need him (“for the greater good”)

dio is one of the warriors inside the trojan horse

dio leaves immediatly after the fall of troy (after the achaeans angered athena through the rape of cassandra by ajax the lesser) and arrives home safely (favored by the gods) Post Trojan war possibilities:

when he gets there his wife has commited adultery and keeps him out of town (palamedes brother having told he brought a different woman) aphrodite being pissed about the scratch helps her get many lovers, he has to leave again

gets kidnapped by some guy to get sacrificied to ares, gets saved by a girl

comes to the court of some other king who offers him his daughter as wife and lands, if he fights for them, so he does, and has two sons with her

he refuses to fight more trojans later on, he just wants to live in peace

birds haunt him and his men (his men cried so much over his death they got turned into birds)

[rellsingsovern]

In my notes during this whole season I’ve kept track of loose ends and just other plot points I think could make for a great senior year (which now seems likely that we will get down the line in the future) and this finale gave me almost everything I wanted and more so here’s what I think we’re gonna see (plus things that I just rly want to see lol)

-first and foremost, BARON IS STILL IN RIZ’S BRIEFCASE!!! the spectral mordred manor probably is not there as that was a haven sent out by cassandra during all the divine interventions in falinell and the bad kids dove in as a last second decision, but baron is still definitely there. ‘I am somewhere always close to Riz Gukgak’ and while everyone’s journey with their sexuality happens on their own time and Riz shouldn’t have to come out if he doesn’t want to yet, now that he’s coming to terms that his friends might not always be together in the way he wants to I think it would be healing for him to fully confront and accept his aro aceness and have support with that and realize that even if they can’t be physically together his friends won’t leave him for other relationships

-Fabian is getting a new baby sibling, but that is not the only sibling he’s ever had. James Whitlaw made references to his half siblings from Bill that he killed and ate, I am POSITIVE that at least one is still out there and probably has it out for Fabian (as Bill married Hallariel, raised Fabian, and dragged his ship into solace to give him a new life) and an arc where Fabian has to defend himself against an older sibling while growing to love his younger would be amazing to see

-kalina, bakarath, bobby, and buddy ofc, I’ve been wondering where kalina has been this whole time, and I want to see more of bobby getting what he deserves. Cassandra’s been through a fucking lot this season but her familiar apparently might be a big bad along with arianwen again so sorry cass but the cat’s gotta go. she still directly got pok killed riz deserves to hunt her down and avenge him a second time

-speaking of, Arianwens been making moves in sylvaire! Adaine and aelwyn will surely kill her but from the looks of it even though she got her magic taken away she may have some sort of power. Cant wait for these sisters to be able to live immortal lives without their parents looming over them

-BUCKY APPLEBEES!! bucky, a paladin of cassandra, gathering the courage to ask Kristin for help getting bricker and cork out of the Applebees residence, maybe moving into mordred and everyone immediately being enamored with these cute little boys who honestly might turn out to be mumple instead of wanting to attend the adventuring academy and Kristin being so happy they aren’t being raised in a pressure cooker anymore and affected like she and bucky were affected, happy that they can be normal kids (and in being around Kristin’s other sisters, adaine and fig, Kristin ends up getting that sister she always wanted in bucky too)

-I’m so happy Fig is getting what she wants and realizing she doesn’t want to finish Aguefort, and it would be awesome if she got a new character and the bad kids took on a new party member for the year played by Emily so all the intrepid heroes are still together, but Fig could be hanging out between mordred and Seacaster and leviathan and Hell, writing music and helping Kristin spread word of the cassandra/Ankarna pantheon through it, and since in sophomore year we saw Penelope dayne daybreak and Johnny spells all kicking it in hell maybe Jace (who ik was a minion mostly but hey he could be evil on his own) is down there with some other bad kid nemeses

-more Galicea and Sol. Sol canonically was all for bringing Ankarna into the pantheon of himself, his sister galicea, his other sister cassandra, and his son helio. It was Sol’s followers who saw Ankarna brought in as another god of the sun and brought about the ruin and corruption of Ankarna alongside the house of sunstone in order to get more power for themselves with just the one solar deity existing. Both Sol and Galicea (and maybe helio) have been hardcore shaped by their followers, Galiceas wolfish side being repressed by the high elf state of falinell and being brought back through wolfsong, and Sol with the human clerics of highcourt scheming to make him the only god with a sun domain despite him officiating and welcoming Ankarna as his sister in law through the marriage. Plus if we get galicea arcs we defo get Kristin and tracker messy lesbians arcs

-Gorgug perfecting his new subclass he invented and Kristin enjoying being student body president! She deserves it, I hc that the only academic sort of thing Kristin cared about before this year was the lgbtq+ club and now she’s extending that energy into everything with the help of Riz, who cannot get off of coffee someone help this poor boy. And since Ragh and shellford have graduated I want more Torek Railgrinder, she’s so cool let’s flesh her out more. Gorgug thinking about how to teach other multiclass barbarian/artificers and perfecting all his awesome inventions (and dating both Unit and Mary Ann bc it’s what his poly ass deserves)

Basically the potential plot I see for senior year is almost a mirror of sophomore year: baron getting out and fighting Riz and the bad kids defeating him for good, the bad kids heading to leviathan after hearing rumors of a pirate calling themselves a child of Bill Seacaster looking for Fabian, heading to falinell to see what’s new with wolfsong and tracker and maybe seeing some changes in Galicea or Sol, heading to hell and meeting up with Fig for a portion (she doesn’t go to their school anymore! she ain’t gotta go on this senior year spring break quest!) who’s been hanging out in hell, tracking Jace and other enemies, establishing her power as an archdevil of the first layer of hell, writing awesome music, and finally back to sylvaire to figure out what the fuck is up with kalina and arianwen and this weird new god buddy has and they all graduate and head their separate ways but they still love each other and see each other all the time they’re family and they’re badass and they’re perfect

[givemequeen]

taste of honey

request: can you do teddyboy Paul McCartney eating gf readers pussy for the first time (a first for both of them) 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 your work is written so well like it’s actually fun to read instead of just reading out of boredom yk like im obsessed a/n: honestly guys i fucking love it when you tell me how much you love my work, i dont know or care if you're being fr or just saying but i love it either way!!! it rly does motivate me to write. anywho, i hope you enjoy this! please lmk if you do :)))) warnings: obv NSFW (read request). oral, female receiving summary: Teddy Paul McCartney eating his gf out for the first time

You had been dating Paul for about five months now and it had been amazing. Not only was he quite literally the cutest guy ever, but he was kind too. Always super attentive and nice to you, making you feel safe and loved. He just made you happy.

You hadn't had sex just yet but had been doing... other things. Mostly just using your hands and kissing for hours on end. His parents were gone for the weekend and you had told your own that you were going to sleep over at your friend's, so you had the house and the night to yourselves.

Just like any other time you were alone in his room, you were on the bed kissing. It always started the same way. You'd get to his house and shyly hug him, he'd lead you upstairs and the second the door closed behind you, he'd kiss you. You still acted surprised when he'd do this, squealing a bit before you'd sink your hands into his soft hair.

After about ten minutes of kissing, he'd roll you over so you were on your back and under his weight. Then he'd start rolling his hips against yours and soon after, you'd do the same, meeting his movements with desperate moans.

"Paul." you moaned, as he began kissing your neck. His hands wandered down your body, slipping under up your skirt when you nodded at his silent question.

He moved your knickers to the side and played with your clit. You moaned his name again as he slipped a finger into you. His other hand went under your shirt, squeezing your breasts. You bit your lower lip and, though the room was dark, the only light the one on his desk, you could see the hunger in his eyes.

"I want to taste you." he moaned, slipping another finger into you. Your response was swallowed by a moan. "I bet you taste so good, love." he kissed you.

"Taste me?" you asked. "Like... like lick your fingers?" you were glad the room was dark so he couldn't see the way you just went completely red.

"No." he said, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, his tongue licking a line up to your ear.

"Then what?" you asked when he didn't elaborate.

"I want to use my mouth." he mumbled against your neck, you gasped.

"Use your mouth?" you pressed.

"Here. Use my mouth here." he curled his fingers to make a point.

You gasped again.

Though most of your friends had boyfriends, you barely talked about this sort of us. You only felt comfortable talking about this with your best friend, who had been with her boyfriend for a year now and had done lots of stuff. She had told you something about this, about how her boyfriend had used his mouth on her and how she had loved it.

"Can I?" Paul asked when you went quiet. He pulled away from your neck and stilled his fingers inside of you.

You looked into his eyes, you could feel your breath hammering against your chest. "Yes." you said, the word small and quiet.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Yes." you said, this time stronger.

He smiled and kissed you briefly before wiggling down the bed. He placed himself at the correct height and reached below your skirt to take off your underwear. You lifted your hips, helping him slid it off of you and onto the floor.

Paul began kissing your inner thigh. Small, soft kisses, his hands gripping the back of your thighs. You arched your feet, already feeling pleasure, anxious to feel more.

He kisses his way upwards to the spot where you needed him most. He moved your skirt out of the way, bunching it up, and pressed his wet lips onto your wetter cunt.

"Paul." you moaned.

You could feel his smirk against you and you nearly shut your legs when he swiped his tongue and licked you. You were stuck between wanting to hide away and melting into his touch. You chose the latter.

"Shit, you taste so good." Paul whispered against you.

You blushed but that was quickly replaced by a moan when he licked you again. Your hand flew to his hair, tugging slightly. That only seemed to egg him on. One of his hands was flat against your stomach, the other held your legs open.

Paul meant it when he said you tasted good 'cause he kept tasting you over and over again. He alternated between kissing and licking you, blowing your mind away.

His hand on your stomach slid down to your clit, the simultaneous use of mouth and fingers drove to the edge. You were standing on the precipice, you could feel your stomach tightening, you were so close.

"Paul. I'm close, I'm so close. Don't stop." but you didn't even have to tell him because nothing was stopping him from tasting you.

You came quickly and swiftly, rocking your hips against his mouth. Calling out his name and tugging on his hair. Begging for more but knowing it was too much.

Your chest rapidly fell and rose as you tried to catch your breath. Paul finally pulled away, wiping his hand over his mouth but not before you saw how it glistened.

You could still see stars behind your eyes from your orgasm and barely felt it when Paul kissed your cheek and collapsed beside you. He wrapped his arm around you and you felt his erection pressed against your thigh.

"You taste so good." he whispered into your ear.

You smiled, too high on pleasure to feel any shame.

You turned to face him. "Can I try?"

[mikanotes]

goodbyes are sour

connor x gn!reader — 2.1k words

genre: angst sorta! mutual pining in denial

warnings: mentions of guns and killing, kabedon for the sake of science, connor unreliable narrator LOL u have feelings android man… maybe ooc idk. (wrote this w the idea of connor being deviant since the beginning bcs Yeah!)

synopsis: You meet Connor again. Turns out things are much more complicated when you aren’t working together.

author’s note: hi dbh fic?! i Love connor nd i’ve been writing this for a while (crazy since it’s rly short) but i don’t like it much… anyways whoevers alive in the dbh fandom have this!

“Detective.”

There’s just something about the way Connor speaks. The cadence, the pitch, the enunciation of each word. It’s painfully evident that he isn’t human. Everything about him is so machine-like that even his perfect, human-like exterior could not fool anyone. However it is something you got used to. Hearing the android speak your name and call you ‘Detective’ back a while ago felt somewhat unsettling. Now it’s so easy to recognize that it almost makes you feel at ease.

“Do you seriously think I’m an android? I don’t wanna deal with those fucking machines, either. I’d be glad if you put a bullet through them rather than me.”

Turns out hearing him fake being a human is ten times more terrifying than his android speech patterns could ever hope to be.

This was not part of the plan.

You were sent with a unit to patrol around the streets for any android who still hadn’t been brought back or destroyed. You weren’t a fan of this whole assignment, but felt better than the rookies who were sent out to shoot humanoid robots as their first field mission probably did.

It would be fine, is what you told yourself, because you didn’t feel anything towards Cyberlife’s creations enough to be completely uncomfortable with the idea of their blue blood on your hands, though it wasn’t ideal. You could manage. Until the first person you came across happened to be the one android you genuinely cared about.

“I don’t think he’s one of them…” one of your fellow officers murmurs next to you. You suddenly become very aware of the gun he, too, is holding and pointing towards the target. Fuck. As if the situation wasn’t bad enough.

At least this idiot’s performance seems to be fooling them.

You wait one second, then sigh on the second, and finally lower your gun on the third. “You shouldn’t be here.” you say casually, prompting your colleagues to relax and the atmosphere to lighten a little. Your heart is in your throat, however. “We’ve got orders to round up every android we see around here. You should go home. This isn’t exactly safe.”

“I know, I know.” he sighs, rolling his eyes a little, “I was gonna leave anyways, thanks.”

Your coworkers mumble to themselves about how disagreeable this guy’s attitude is and it’s enough for them to miss the wink the latter sends your way as he leaves. You almost regret not shooting a bullet through his head.

Still, you sigh in relief, setting your gun back at your side and running a hand over your face. You don’t think you can continue patrolling in peace. There’s one too many questions in your mind and the key to answering them is escaping from your grasp.

You take the phone in your pocket and pretend to get a call, moving it to your ear and looking at the members of your team. “I’ll join up with you later.” you say, gesturing towards your phone. They nod and walk away, and you do the same, feeling more relieved than ever that these people see you as a leader of sorts. They won’t question you on anything. You hurry towards the direction your so-called partner left to the moment they’re out of sight.

A rooftop door, stairs, and more stairs. You’re jogging down like you’re chasing a criminal on the run. You’re down to the fifth floor out of eight when someone grabs your arm and pulls you out a door.

“Wha—” you try to yell, but a cold hand settle over your mouth. Your body relaxes but your expression tenses. Connor. “Let me go,” you mumble incoherently, surprisingly succeeding in getting him to let you step away.

You sigh and shake your head, turning around abruptly. His ‘human costume’ (which really just was a grey suit jacket thrown over what should’ve been his Cyberlife uniform, glasses, and a cap to hide his LED) is already gone, replaced by his usual attire, just missing his jacket.

“What the hell was that about?” you ask, annoyed, pointing towards the staircase (back there, on the roof) and the android simply shrugs. “Connor.”

“I was undercover, Detective. I thought someone as smart as you would recognize that much.” he says, his tone back to normal. You’d feel relieved if he wasn’t being so irritating. “Was I wrong?”

Your face drops. “No. I figured as much. But what for?” you sigh, crossing your arms.

“Same mission as always.”

“Who are you chasing? Did you find the place?”

“I have no reason to tell you.”

It only clicks then that while you know about Connor continuing his mission after being laid off the case, you’re not part of it anymore. He had to be sent back to Cyberlife, and you should’ve been forgetting about him entirely. You’re still DPD, and you have orders to shoot Androids on sight— Which you clearly aren’t following. He’s right. He has no reason to tell you.

Still.

You grab his arm when he threatens to walk away. You’re not sure what you want to say, but you’re not done talking. He lets you. “Connor.”

“Detective.” he says. You straighten your back and sigh, not breaking eye contact. He tilts his head to the side and his LED flashes yellow for an instant. “You’re angry.”

Of course you’re angry. He’s infuriating. There’s something about how logical and dead-set on following every single rule he is that makes Connor the most annoying individual you’ve ever talked to. Everything he does has to be for his mission. Every single thing.

“Do threats work with you?” you ask blankly, “If you don’t tell me where it is, I’ll get Cyberlife to bring you back, and all that?”

When he takes a step closer to you again, forcing your back to press against the wall, and his LED does not even threaten to change hues, you’re taken aback. Just a bit. It’s the same kind of frustrated attitude you would’ve expected from a human after saying what you just did. But not Connor.

He doesn’t seem frustrated, though. And you know he can look annoyed. He just doesn’t. So he must not be. And you want to find what it is he’s doing exactly, stepping closer to you without even saying a word, but your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting at the distance between you two. You know he does everything for his work. Does he think you have new information on deviants? Does he really believe you would call Cyberlife on him? Is he using his stupid interrogation module on you? Whatever it is makes you even more annoyed.

The silence feels heavy. It makes things worse. It gives your brain time to process how this is making you feel and it’s no good at all. “What?” you break the silence, tone somewhat irritated.

“I’m trying to understand the reason why you’re so angry at me.” he explains simply, like it makes sense. His eyes narrow a bit and the LED at the side of his head flickers yellow for a moment. “And no, Detective. Threats don’t work on me. Not when I can tell you’re lying so easily.” he adds, quieter.

“Shut up.” you scoff.

“I dont think I will.”

“Connor.”

“— However,” he interrupts, “I can step away from you at any moment if you tell me to.”

“No.”

“No?”

What— No?! You register the word after saying it and sigh, face contorting into a somewhat pained expression. You panicked and said it, your mind processing his offer as him leaving you again— With no information and nothing to ease your stupid worries. Now it just sounds odd.

Is that embarrassment?

“You didn’t finish what you were trying to do, did you? You haven’t told me why I’m angry yet. Since you apparently care so much.” you say, tone sounding much softer than before. Your apparent discomposure took away all the bitterness from your voice. Interesting.

Truth be told, Connor knows why you’re angry. He’s not letting you in on the details of what he’s doing despite the time you spent working as partners a very short while ago. He’s spent enough time with people, and you especially, to know that after forming some kind of bond with a work partner, it would be frustrating not to receive information about their mission the way you used to from them—

Especially considering he was still chasing after something you both knew about. Jericho. But he cannot tell you about that. Not… Right now.

What he really was trying to do was evaluate how much of a threat you really could be to his investigation. He didn’t sense any hostility before and he doesn’t now, and you could’ve shot him but you didn’t. But it’s not enough. He needs more time— More evidence that it’s fine. That’s why he pulled you here in the first place. That’s why he pressured you to talk.

He needs to make sure killing you isn’t necessary.

“Because I posed a threat to the stability of your current mission earlier. You wouldn’t have been able to shoot me had I been discovered, and your reaction to your colleagues shooting me would’ve jeopardized your job itself.” he answers.

This reasoning would make sense.

“That’s not it.” you sigh.

Your heartbeat is slowing down. No good. Connor leans his arm on the wall next to you and moves closer. Your heartbeat picks up in speed. It’s almost alarming. He can tell all the details about your physical condition and deduce what you’re thinking or feeling based off of them, sure. But he’s no human. The way he views and comprehends emotions is registered in his system in a much more clear and logic-based way than it is in humans’ brains.

So maybe he won’t ever know why your heart beats so heavily against your ribcage. So he just has to pressure the right places and demand answers. He unfortunately can’t allow you to relax. He won’t get anything out of you if you’re calm. You’re much too turbulent for that.

Or maybe he’ll just have to ask. In a normal way.

“Detective, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you scoff, eyes widening. Wrong question.

You seem like you want to be angry but something is holding you back from displaying just how much he gets on your nerves. You sigh deeply and look at him, “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting so weird. More than usual. Why’d you pull me here if you didn’t want to tell me anything? And I’m worried. What if you really did get shot? Wasn’t Cyberlife supposed to deactivate you? They wouldn’t have brought in another Connor this time. You’re off the case, you— You would’ve died!”

“Maybe.”

There’s circles under your eyes. There always are, but they’re more defined now than they were the last time he saw you. Now that you’re actually being honest, your whole voice and mannerisms betray any of your usual annoyed and dismissive facade. He didn’t think you cared this much, though he understands that some humans are quick to empathize. To a fault.

Now it’s clear he doesn’t need to eliminate you at all. Part of him seems to have grown fond of your company. He couldn’t risk that getting in the way of his better judgment.

“I only pulled you here so you wouldn’t pointlessly chase down the streets searching for me, since I made sure no one would follow.” he says, stepping back and giving you more space, “You’re a police officer. It doesn’t matter what you say you’ll keep to yourself or not. I can’t compromise. This is too important.”

You’re hurt, it’s visible. He’s saying he can’t risk trusting you. He figures that must not feel nice.

The sound of the radio attached to your side breaks this prolonged silence with the promise of separation. You take it, eyes not leaving Connor’s, and listen to your colleague speak. You tell them you’ll be right there. You’re not one to be late. He knows you’ll really leave this time— Too far away for him to hope to talk to you again, if anything goes awry.

You turn the radio off and put it back where it was. “Hope you succeed, then.” you say, bitter, and push yourself up to start walking away.

“Take care of yourself, Detective.” Connor says. Asks. The words come out before he can really think. Something about your voice and this whole atmosphere made him… Feel uneasy. Like he needed to say something. If this is how your partnership ends, he doesn’t believe it should be on such a sour note. He cares doesn’t dislike you at all, so why should it?

You stagger a little, seemingly stopping in your tracks, but moving again no more than a second later. “You too, Connor.”

Somehow, goodbyes had never seemed so sad.

[bonny-kookoo]

Lmao I'm rly fucking tired and accidentally almost posted this ask on my account for some reason instead of as an ask before I caught myself haha but anyways

Hehe so based on this google result about dogs, I was wondering about a drabble with sweet tooth jk buying or giving oc a plushie a few days or so after the first night as a way to comfort/distract her? Maybe he suggests she hold (or him lol) it if she feels lonely. Ur so cool and hope ur feeling good 🫶🫶🫶

Yoongi knows exactly what Jungkook is doing, even if the dog hybrid himself is unaware. You don't seem to realize it either- only Jimin is suspecting something going on as the dog hybrid watches with a wagging tail how you hold the soft lion plush close to you, one hand absentmindedly feeling the soft fabric of the short legs of it.

The lion isn't new at all. It's his- and he's been doing these things for a while now, ever since the camping trip.

Everytime you come over to Yoongis and Jungkook's place, he either drops one of his few plushies in your lap, or attempts to gain your attention in other ways- typically by taking you outside into the garden to look at the fruits he's growing.

You think it's cute- but you fail to really spot the underlying meaning of it.

Though, it's the same way the other way around- Jimin having noticed the way you sometimes push yourself into his side randomly when sitting next to him. Other times, like right now with the lion pillow, he can clearly see your hands grabbing the plush toy, before opening your palms again, just to dig your fingers back in.

Kneading.

And there's also, of course, your typical cat-behavior; from knocking stuff down just to catch Jungkook's attention back on you, to blatantly sitting on his lap even when he's clearly doing something.

"Jungkook likes her." Yoongi says to Jimin next to him, as they watch you push your shoulder into Jungkook's side, who's currently showing you a video on his phone.

"I mean, she seems to like him too. That was what we hoped for, right?" Jimin wonders, having to stiffle a small laugh under his breath when Jungkook has to lift his arms a bit, eyes wide open in surprise while you stubbornly climb into his lap, halfway leaning on him now, tail happily curled around you before you resume watching. The dog hybrid checks in with Jimin for a second with his big round eyes, before he seems to relax again, carefully positioning his arms again to resume the video.

"Hmhm. Though I think they like each other a bit more than we thought they would." The oldest human laughs, shaking his head before he resumes his cooking.

"Wait, you think-" Jimin starts, a bit caught off guard.

"It's pretty obvious. He's definitely head over heels for her, poor guy." He chuckles, turning the steaks in the pan. He's happy for Jungkook- you don't seem like a genuinely bad person at all, after all, you've started to become awfully soft for the dog hybrid, despite what you're saying and trying to portray with your acting.

Jimin, however, doesn't really know what to think. He's so used to your attention always being on him, that he feels a bit lost now. Do you not like him any longer? And if that's the case, can he himself deal with that?

He doesn't want to choose between Yoongi and you. Why can't he have you both?

[livingddeadgirlrl]

Shiu & Toji x reader smut

(cw: belly bulge, spit roasting, idk just rly horny.)

hello, i want to get into smut writing so… first attempt. my pussy wrote this, not me. just imagining being sandwiched between these two himbos. meeeeeeooww. anyways let's get on with it. (i didn’t proofread it so sorry if there’s inconsistencies…)

you were about to go out for a drink, getting all dolled up, delicately placing strokes of eyeliner on your eyelids while looking in the mirror. you tied your sleek black hair back, reaching down to the middle of your back. you gazed at yourself in the mirror for a few long seconds, checking your makeup, making sure it was just how you liked it and how you always did it—rosy blush on the high points of your cheeks, dark gray eyeshadow contrasting with your fair skin, thick wings of eyeliner, making your eyes appear cat-like, and dark red lipstick covering your plump red lips. it all appeared so perfect right now, and nothing could ruin it…

you dressed yourself in a long black dress, with thin straps, so thin that a simple tug could snap them off completely. the dress was soft to the touch and dangerously form fitting, highlighting your figure. you were slim, just above the average female height, with curves that appeared so delicate and fragile, your waist curving in and back out again to meet your perfect hips. you walked over to the mirror in your bedroom, straightening out the creases in the dress while simultaneously scanning your own appearance. you remembered why you loved this dress so dearly—the way it hugged your sizable breasts, so soft and glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom. the way the material curved along with your ass—it was all too good. you let your hair out of the tie, letting it cascade around your shoulders and drape in front of your breasts, like it was framing them flawlessly. you strapped on your black high heels one at a time, leaning on the edge of your bed for support when you heard your phone vibrating on your nightstand. you walk over to check who was calling at such a perfect time, hoping it was nothing too important. you leaned over the phone and sighed deeply. “fuck.”

“what do you need?’ you hissed through the phone. “easy, now. there’s a job. it's too much for toji to do on his own, so we need you to accompany us. i sent the driver over. see you soon” they replied. you groaned, desperately wanting someone, anyone to save you. you thought of skipping out on it, simply sending the driver home, but the thought of the abundance of money you could make from this job taunted you. you grumbled under your breath, grabbing your bag full of the tools you would need. you waited at your door, hoping at least the driver would arrive soon to offer some refuge from the cold that was forcing your skin to prick up. you spotted a pair of headlights in the dark, illuminating the dark street that your apartment rested on. the sleek black car pulled up to the front, and you advanced towards it. you opened the back door, slid into the seat, and nodded to the driver. once you shut the door, the car began its journey to the place you dreaded so dearly.

after a drive that felt so drawn out, the car arrived at the building. from the outside, it seemed as though it was simply one of the several corporate buildings within the city, but this was a facade. the driver opened the door for you, escorted you to the sliding automatic doors at the front, and left. you walked to the elevator, your finger automatically pressing the button to the thirteenth floor out of habit. you tapped impatiently on your now crossed arms, your dark red nails creating soft pelting noises on your skin. the doors finally opened, and you walked out to the lobby of the thirteenth floor, your heels clicking on the cold floor. your body habitually made its way to the office you were oh so familiar with, slightly inhaling before your fingers wrapped around the cold handle, opening the door.

“there she is…” shiu exclaimed. he was seated at the large office table, at the very end. toji was seated next to him, with one empty chair in between the two, painfully muscular arms folded over each other. the room was dimly lit, adding to the secretive ambience. “hello shiu.. toji.” you replied, sounding intensely disinterested. “come sit. we were just about to go over the details.” you walked over, hips swaying slightly, as they naturally did. you sat down in the empty chair between them, obviously left vacant for your ass. you felt their eyes intensely roaming over you and your body, contributing to your frustration. “this better be important.” you muttered. your voice was always immediately identifiable—so smooth, slightly deeper, and very womanly, not like a young girl's. “come on… already so angry? what’s the matter...” shiu said playfully, while toji stayed silent. typical. you didn’t reply, the frustration already growing in your core. “why don’t we play nice today, huh?” he added. “god. this is why i fucking hate working with you both.” you snapped in return. “toji… she’s extra feisty today… think we should do something to fix that…?” shiu’s words rolled off of his tongue so seductively. “she deserves a lesson. always coming to our meetings fuckin pissed off… so annoying.” toji muttered out. you were clearly fuming now, trying to hold your tongue. you wanted to snap at both of these men, but you knew it wasn’t the wisest choice. after all, they always towered over you. their bodies so muscular and thick compared to yours, although you had some of your own. shiu’s fingers danced over the material of your dress, tracing circles on your thigh. you crossed your arms, hinting that you were not in the mood. toji’ s rough and large hands also began to creep towards your thighs, as you shifted in your chair. his hand, now enveloping your thigh, massaged it lightly. “jesus christ. can’t go one fucking mission without getting so horny?” you hissed. “come on y/n… you know you always enjoy it… when are you going to stop fighting it…” toji whispered out in a low voice. this was beginning to become a common occurrence. these men lured you in with a “mission,” only for you to end up in these positions. you were always tempted by the money that would come with the job, but it never showed. all these “meetings” would offer you were bruises and bite marks littered all over your delicate skin. you were naive in that aspect, so easily fooled.

you didn’t give in to their seductions at first, letting them satisfy themselves by attempting to get under your skin with all of their teasing. but after their hands roamed your thighs for several minutes too long, your body went against you. it was your worst enemy. always falling weak to their actions, even when your mind wanted to fight it. your dress was now scrunched up to your hips, your black lace thong now visible. “y/n… if you hate this so much… then why are you wearing these…” shiu whispered in your ear. you rolled your eyes lightly. “i was about to go out before you called me here.” shiu and toji both let out a low chuckle to your response, not believing your words one bit. “mhm… and that’s why you’re already so wet too, huh?” toji said in a low voice mixed with a growl. “shut up..” you mumbled. “keep up with this tough guy act of yours and we won’t let you cum this time, brat.” toji snapped back at you. you groaned in response. you were always annoyed when they did this, but the least they could do was let you cum. toji’s big fingers tugged at the lining of your underwear that was covering your slit, pulling it to the side. you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm, as you knew they could both see how slick your folds now were. “fuckin slut” toji muttered. without any warning, he pressed one of his large fingers all the way inside your cunt, causing you to yelp out. “shhh… just relax…” shiu whispered in your ear, brushing your hair to the side and now littering kisses down your neck. toji’s finger moved around, attempting to stretch out your tight and gummy walls. he pressed another finger in harshly, and you gripped onto his forearm as you whimpered. “f-fuck… go easy…” you said under your breath. “no way. slutty little pussy of yours deserves to be punished.” toji said. shiu kept kissing your neck, tongue lapping at your skin as his fingers now tugged at the straps of your dress, pulling them down ever so slowly. he trailed kisses down to your collarbone, finally slipping your dress past your breasts, letting it rest on your ribs. he stared hungrily at your breasts, which were not covered in the usual bra you wore. the dress didn’t need a bra, you thought, so you never wore one with it. toji’s fingers began to pump in and out of your cunt, his fingers covered in your essence now. shiu’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, as his fingers brushed over the other, tracing light circles around it. his tongue lapped over your nipple, as his breathing grew heavier. toji’s pace quickened, your pussy now making squelching sounds. a soft moan escaped your lips, lacing your fingers through shiu’s hair as his tongue traced circles around your nipple, the bulge in his pants now becoming unbearable. toji’s erection was also now visible through his pants, and your eyes trailed towards it. you hated this. hated how easily you melted into their touch, how their fingers remembered the exact spots to reach that made your panties pool with your wetness. how your body squirmed under their rough touches. toji’s fingers pumped in and out even faster, causing your grip on his arm to tighten and your legs to twitch slightly. your mouth hung open, your dark red lips parted. shiu took this opportunity to place a passionate kiss on your lips, his hands massaging your tits. toji’s fingers curled up into that perfect spot, causing you to moan into the kiss that shiu planted on your lips. his pace never faltered, your body writhing and shaking in that god awful desk chair. you had to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, mewls escaping your lips as your back arched. toji looked up at you, watching your face contort in pleasure with a devilish smirk on his face. shiu’s lips went back to your nipple, sucking harder this time, adding to the pressure that was building in your stomach. his other hand traveled up your neck, lightly holding it, yet not fully choking you. toji pumped his fingers harder, and the coil in your stomach was about to snap. (go to my other post for the rest)

[hotchs-big-hands]

The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2| Part 3

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader

5.3k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, graphic murder description, injury, gore, blood, fatphobia, extreme angst (with a happy ending), sort-of enemies to lovers, kidnapping, torture, references to SA, derogatory nsfw comments. Oh and I use the word fat because I personally reclaimed it to not rly insult me as it is merely a descriptive word. I do not use it in an insulting way even once in the series.

Please heed the warnings, this series is going to be dark asf. No smut in this series tho.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

Omg dun dun dunnn I wonder what's gonna happen. This chapter is pretty rough so please take care :( I hope you all enjoy tho! Thank you for reading so far!

This was his fault, Aaron Hotchner thought as soon as the line died. Right from the moment he had walked out of the bathroom his chest lurched horribly at the sight of the empty room and he scrambled to grab his phone to send you a text immediately, simultaneously sending one to the group chat as well.

Now he was already pulling his clothes back on as soon as you never acknowledged the messages, frantically struggling with his trousers to get them back up over slightly damp legs and calling you. For every second it rang out the sickening feeling in his stomach began to rise. No response, voicemail. A second call. No response. The team were preparing to gather downstairs as he fumbled with his remaining clothes, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacke-

No keys.

You'd taken the car keys from his jacket. He swore under his breath. Hotch swung the jacket over his arm and dashed out the hotel room, barely bothering with locking the door behind him. The stairs were quicker, making it to the foyer in mere seconds. He tried calling again, the line was busy. All hope that perhaps you were talking to one of the others fell through when Prentiss and JJ appeared, the raven haired woman holding her phone to her ear in a panic. She shook her head when they met eyes. No response for her either.

Hotch swallowed thickly as shortly behind the two women appeared Dave, Morgan and Reid.

“No sign of her at all?” Morgan was the first to speak, rushing over. It appeared he was wearing the same trousers, only likely having time to partially begin settling for the evening before he redressed in a new shirt to regroup. Hotch clenched his hand into a tight fist, feeling his anxiety bubble in his gut. His thumb grazed across his knuckles self-soothingly.

“She took the car keys from my jacket. We need Garcia to track the SUV (Y/n)’s in.” He spoke quickly, fumbling with his phone to dial your number again. “Someone call Garcia, please.”

The others shared a look when your first name tumbled from his mouth, but now wasn't the time to point it out to him. This was the first time anyone had heard him call you by your first name, something that none of them had heard him do before, but it would be a lie if they were to say they didn't think he had been struggling not to refer to you as such.

It was a common subject of discussion between the group; when would either of you finally crack and make a move on the other. Watching the two of you tiptoe around each other, Hotch trying to remain professional as though he wasn't on the brink of telling the world “fuck it” and confessing his feelings for you, while you were stuck in a limbo of longing for the man but understandably assuming the man wanted nothing more than a work relationship with you. The whole thing was becoming almost unbearable.

He had to keep trying to call you. He quickly dialled your number again. The attempt was fruitless. Hotch could feel his teeth gritting and his body trembling. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t forgive himself if something had. If only he had been nicer to you, more warm towards you, maybe things would have turned out differently-

“Aaron,” Dave appeared at his side and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Keep trying, but don’t lose yourself.”

The taller of the two of them closed his eyes for a second, drawing in a deep breath and exhaling. With a slight nod, he dialled your number one more time.

This time, you answered.

“S-sir.” He heard your voice, but it was garbled, surrounded by loud people. His nostrils flared.

“Where the hell are you?!” he hissed frantically, all attempts to calm himself down enough to speak long gone. The eyes of his team were upon him in an instant.

“I…I needed to clear my head.”

Bullshit. His heart was pounding.

“Sounds extremely noisy wherever you are to be doing that.” Hotch clenched his free hand into a tight fist at his side. “So I will ask you again, (L/n). Where are you?”

There was hesitation on the other end of the line and he felt the sense of anxiety spike, he could’ve been sick.

“I…” You hesitated. Something was deeply wrong. Mouth dry, Hotch attempted to clear his throat and prompt you to speak, only for you to beat him to it.

“I…I have to go.”

The line cut off, leaving the haunting tone of a dead line to ring in his ear. You were in danger.

“Hotch?” Prentiss queried. He slowly dropped his arm from holding the phone to his ear.

“She’s in danger.”

“What?”

The group stepped closer, the apprehension on their faces quickly paling to horror. Hotch swallowed dryly. His throat burned.

“It sounded as though she was in a bar or a nightclub. But it sounds like someone confronted her. I-” No, NO. Not again. He couldn’t go through another loss again. His eyes were stinging.

“Aaron. Look at me.”

Dave appeared in his line of sight again and Hotch drew in a shaky breath.

“This is my fault.” He mumbled. The older man shook his head.

“No, it really isn’t. But right now isn’t the time for this conversion, we have to find her and bring her back to safety, yes?”

Just as Hotch opened his mouth to speak, Morgan held his phone out for him to look at.

“Got the location of the vehicle she took. There’s a club about ten minutes from here by car.” He said.

“I’ll contact the police department and the SWAT. We’ll head out on your order.” Dave added, eyeing him. Hotch pocketed his phone. Time was ticking, he knew that. He squared his shoulders and held his head a little higher.

“We should head out, then. Be ready in no more than five minutes.”

Please, hang on a little longer for me, he thought to himself.

There was an immediate stench of viscera and death that invaded your nostrils when you regained consciousness and it forced a gag from your throat. The world was bleary, clearing up with every blink until you could make out cracked and dirty plaster on the walls surrounding you. The room was in disrepair, old stalls with rusting bars separating them lined the sides and slowly the realisation of what you were in began to creep up on you.

This was an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.

“Wh..” nausea lurched your stomach; you couldn’t be so sure if you were grateful for not having eaten or drank much of anything that day. Or was it yesterday? You scrunched your eyes shut.

There was a chuckle from just out of your viewing range.

“Aww, my little piggy is finally awake.” The same voice from before. You attempted to move your arms, only to realise handcrafted leather cuffs bound them either side of your head uncomfortably. You were strapped to a table of sorts, you didn’t want to think about who or what else had been on here before you. He chuckled again and you curled your hands into fists.

“Stop hiding.” You spat.

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re in much of a position to make demands, piggy. But, I’ll humour you.”

Heavy footsteps rounded you from the right and the figure appeared before you. You fought to stop your eyes from widening.

Standing in front of you was a young white man, much as your profile had suggested, with a conventionally attractive face and dark blonde locks of hair pushed up to the right side. He was tall, maybe around 6’, and he wore a white sleeveless top underneath a grey-blue boiler suit- which he wore with the top half tied around his waist. It was the same colour as the boiler suits the employees of the handiwork shop wore. He looked… well, normal. And something about that enraged you more than when you encountered bastards like this on the regular. He snickered, your emotions having slipped on to your face. You needed to calm down, people like him revelled in the emotions their victims expressed.

The man stepped closer to you at the foot of the table and gripped onto the sleeves of his boiler suit to tighten the knot they were tied into.

“Like what you see, pig?”

You shrugged.

“Meh, not really.” You said casually. You didn’t enjoy the emotion that flickered in his pale eyes.

“Oh, I’m more than aware. We’ll get into that, but first,” He leaned to the side to grab something, a plastic poncho, and pulled it over his head. “I’m so rude for not introducing myself. My name is James, I really can’t wait to hear what it sounds like when you scream my name tonight.”

So it was night time, the same night perhaps. You narrowed your eyes.

“Are you fucking stupid?”

James raised a brow, but the smirk that etched his face remained.

“Why? Because I kidnapped a federal agent? I enjoy the thrill of it.” He retorted. “Besides, I don’t discriminate against someone’s profession. If you’re a disgusting fucking piggy then I’m gonna kill you either way. Hell, I’d be doing your unit a favour getting rid of a slob like you from it.”

He stepped closer and bent slightly to pull something up from the sides of the table, making you swallow. Stirrups. You reared back your legs futilely, ready to kick at him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You warned. The man let out a laugh.

“If you kick me now, I’ll sever the tendons behind your knees.”

You froze, not resisting when he grabbed your ankles and dragged you towards him until your arms were straightened above your head. You made no noise, staring him down when he clamped your ankles into the stirrups. But as he attempted to spread your legs the fabric of your trousers pulled taut, digging into your large thighs and preventing your legs from parting to his liking. The man narrowed his eyes a little, then fumbled in his back pocket and produced a switchblade. A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your eyes widened. In your head you could hear Hotch’s words; don’t show any fear. You were certain if he was here now he would be so disappointed in you.

James lowered the blade to the seam running along the crotch of you pants and you flinched.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Are you stupid? I already told you, you have no say in the matter.” he jeered at you. Then he pressed the blade to the seam and pressed in enough to poke through, then sliced along it until he was able to rip a large hole in the fabric.

You scrunched your eyes tightly shut, feeling humiliated with your thighs and panties on full display to the disgusting man. He let out a chilling laugh.

“Aww, would you look at that. Wearing these cute lil frilly panties for your boss, huh?”

Wh-what? You felt your stomach lurch. How would he-

“Don’t look so surprised, I know about your feelings for your boss.” He said.

You pulled at the stirrups, to no avail with the modifications of more handmade leather cuffs being attached to them, until your ankles creaked.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You felt nauseous from the look he gave you, his delight only more evident with every passing second.

“Oh? You wanna hear me say it? I know you yearn for that man, want him to fuck you real good, don’t you? It’s such a shame you’re fucking disgusting though.”

You needed to calm down, breathing deeply in through your nose and out of your mouth as best you could.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Bull-fucking-shit! You’re a bad fucking liar, agent (L/n). You seriously think no one sees it? It’s pathetic really, you being desperately in love with your boss and craving even an ounce of praise from him.” He scoffed then, rounding the table to your right side, threatening to leave your eye line. “I bet you’ve been loving sharing a bed with him, haven’t you?”

The next intake of air lodged in your throat and you choked, chest rising and falling rapidly as you coughed and spluttered. He knew?! This whole time, every moment of this case, he had been watching, stalking. God, if he had seen you sharing a bed then that meant he had seen you curled up to Hotch every fucking night. But how? Your room was up a flight of stairs. Your eyes darted around the room, panic really beginning to sink in and James used the moment to pull over a trolley of various tools, each more stomach-churning than the one before it. And then you noticed it; a little red flashing light amidst the other objects. This… this was being recorded.

“Now, what should I use to loosen you up for me, hm?” He changed the subject casually, dragging his hands over his various tools. “Maybe a knife, cut your pussy open wide for me. Maybe force a bat or an ice pick up there.”

Your chest lurched, your body automatically pulling at your bindings. This couldn’t truly happen, right? In your mind his face appeared, those beautiful brown eyes. Oh… you’d really messed up big time, and you wouldn’t even be able to take responsibility for it. This would be nothing but hefty paperwork and a headache for Hotch to deal with. The thought made your throat tighten, burning and painful as you fought back the urge to cry. You wouldn’t give this fucker the satisfaction of seeing you cry, even if it wasn’t out of fear.

The glint of a large blade harshly returned you to reality and your eyes settled on the large, horrifying blade in James’ hand. He half-smirked, showing off the butcher’s knife to you.

“What do we think, hm? This one should do the job perfectly. After all, it’s used for slicing up animals like you.” He said with a voice full of utter glee. You glared back in retaliation, eyes shining in the dim light of the grimy room.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Something glinted in his eye, then before you knew it he slammed the blade down hard into your mid-thigh and there was nothing to stop the throat-tearing scream that forced its way out of you.

The SUV was still parked outside the club when the team arrived, kevlar vests on with the striking white ‘FBI’ letters spread across the chest area. Mutually, it was decided to go in and make it known why they were there, to ask around as rapidly as possible and send everyone home to safety. With a slight nod at each other, the team rushed in.

“FBI! Turn the lights on and switch that music off, now!” Morgan commanded loudly, earning a flurry of surprised gasps and hushed murmurs. The group spread through the room, eyes darting around as they searched the faces around them.

“I know this is very alarming, but we are in need of the whereabouts of two people who were here recently.” Hotch said in a clear, but stern voice. Two photographs were shown around the club, one with your face on it and the other the face of the suspected unsub, a sight that made him swallow thickly. This shouldn’t have ever been something they needed to do.

At first it was tensely quiet with no one moving, every second ticking by loudly in his head.

“Hotch.” JJ motioned behind him and he turned on his heel, now face to face with a young woman. She appeared nervous before him, avoiding eye contact and hesitating to approach. With a deep breath, Hotch forced himself to relax and soften his facial expression to a point where the woman felt comfortable enough to continue stepping forward.

“I… I saw them by the bar, she had a phone call when a guy approached her. He followed her outside.”

“Any discerning details about the man?” he encouraged. The woman tightly closed her eyes for a second as she tried remembering anything else.

“He was wearing a full body suit like- like Michael Myers or some shit, only it was a lighter greyish colour. Hard to tell under the dim lighting at the time though. He had curly blonde hair too like that picture." She spoke so quickly her words tripped over one another, but it was legible enough for Hotch to know instantly that it was their guy. But that meant…

“Did anyone see where they went when they went outside?” JJ said loudly, but there was no answer. No one knew where he had taken you.

Hotch felt his hands trembling a little and his heart pounded in his chest. Fuck, you must be terrified right now- if you were even alive at this point. He had no way of knowing. The group followed behind him as he abruptly rushed outside with Dave hot on his tail.

“Aaron-”

“We need to hurry. Get Garcia on the line to track where his van is.” He cut the older man off, turning to face the others.

“Already on it.” Morgan said, pressing his phone to his ear.

Hotch’s frown deepened.

“On loudspeaker.”

With a nod the dark-skinned man held his phone out and everyone could hear the shrill tone of the line ringing. It was only a couple of rings before Garcia answered.

“Any sign of her?” The usually peppy and witty voice of Garcia came through more serious and edged with worry, it made Hotch’s stomach turn. He cleared his throat.

“This is Hotch. We haven’t, but we know who took her. I need you to search for James Humphrey’s licence plate and track where the vehicle is now.”

There was clacking on the keyboard on Garcia’s end of the line, moments later she spoke again.

“I got the number plate. You’re looking for a FDK-845 licence plate. Um, let me see where it is currently…” Her voice trailed off and was followed by more clacks of her keyboard.

Then she gasped.

“Garcia?” Morgan called out.

“Oh god…”

“Where is the van now, Garcia?” Hotch questioned her in a less than patient way- something he regretted and filed away to apologise for later.

“I-I’m sorry. The location- it’s an old, abandoned slaughterhouse.” The colourful technical analyst barely managed above a whisper. Fuck.

“Send the address. We’re heading there now. Thank you, Garcia.” Hotch offhandedly pointed to JJ and spoke quickly. “Call for an ambulance, get them to come to the same address when you get it.”

“Of course.”

Without another moment, he rushed out and was already climbing back into the SUV he’d arrived in earlier to get going. The team, police and SWAT followed suit and moments later they were off, sirens blaring and flashes of blue and red painting the world around them in an alarming light show. Who knew if you were even alive now or not.

“Aaron, you need to calm yourself.” Dave said from the passenger seat. Hotch scoffed.

“I’m doing fi-”

“-You can lie to yourself about that all you want, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Aaron sighed, keeping his eyes on the road as they raced through the, thankfully, empty streets and began to make it to the outskirts of town.

“I feel as though I pushed her to feel responsible for what happened. I…” He swallowed thickly. “I haven’t exactly been the most welcoming towards her.”

“I know, we’ve all seen it. But we also know why you keep her at arm’s length.”

The younger of the two older men scoffed.

“Dave-”

“-Save your breath on denying it. You know I’m right.”

“Yeah… We- we should stay focused on finding her. Hopefully still alive.” Hotch mumbled. This time, Dave was the one to scoff.

“Of course she will be alive. She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

“I know. But you saw what this man did to the others.”

Dave said nothing more, turning his attention to the road ahead. It was quiet for a few minutes, that is until a building came into view. Hotch glanced at the man beside him.

“Tell everyone to turn off their lights and sirens. We don’t want to alert James to our presence.” He said.

The world fell silent and dark not too long after, and the foreboding silhouette of the slaughterhouse loomed larger and larger ahead of them, the pale moon falling behind the decaying structure. They came to a stop outside, quietly climbing out of their vehicles several yards away to lessen the chance of being heard from within the building. Ahead of them all was the van from the handiwork business with the same licence plate Garcia provided. It was quickly determined it was empty when two of the SWAT agents broke the locks of the back doors to the vehicle, finding nothing and thus the operation to head inside the facility began.

Then the most horrific shriek they’d all ever heard echoed out into the night from within the large building and it was as though time stopped altogether, along with Hotch’s heart.

That was you screaming.

“We need to go in now.” Hotch gritted, Everyone nodded, faces a mix of horrified and stony.

With their guns drawn, everyone followed their set out positions, stepping lightly as they entered from different areas of the building. Hotch rounded a corner, Morgan and the police chief tailing him along with some of the other officers. They paused, then rushed into the main room where the two figures were.

“FBI! James Humphrey, put your hands on your head where we can see them!” Hotch yelled, then the scene before him began to sink in. Your ashen face with tears streaking your cheeks, the position you were held in. Then the blood- so, so much blood. James twisted the blade that was sunk into your thigh and made you cry out again. He was grinning.

“Aww damn, you got me,” He said slowly, then turned his attention to the dark haired man without letting go of the knife. “But you have to admit, she looks so nice, all defenceless and covered in blood, don’t you think?”

Hotch stared him down, gun aimed at the blonde’s head with an unwavering stare.

“Shut up and put your hands on your head.”

James raised a brow, as though he had realised something.

“Oh! You’re the one, aren’t you?”

What? Hotch’s brow twitched. But before he could speak you strained at the buckles around your wrists.

“Shut the fuck uP!”

Your words, while full of venom and urgency, were also slurred. You were losing too much blood. James chuckled.

“Let’s open you wide for him, shall we? A nice little surprise for your loved one.”

Tightening his grip on the blade, he yanked it to the side and sliced your thigh open wider than before and caused you to scream in agony.

Hotch didn’t hesitate pulling the trigger. There was a loud bang, then the monster fell to the ground, a perfect hole between his cold eyes finishing him.

He shoved his gun into its holster with shaky hands, barely registering that the others were also in the room with him. He just needed to reach you. His stomach felt cold when he came to stand before you, your wrists and ankles red rimmed from pulling at the straps, but most of all your thigh was pulsing out blood. Crimson everywhere. Your eyes settled on him and they widened as you began to struggle.

“N-no! Don’t look at me!”

He moved fast, unfastening the buckles around your ankles and pressing his knee to your groin, applying as much as his body weight as he could to you. He hated the scream that tore through you.

“(L/n)! Please, keep your eyes on me. Stay with me. I’m going to remove my belt and try to use it to tie a tourniquet, okay?” he said as calmly as he could, maintaining the pressure on your pelvic bone. You screeched, trying to flail away from him. He could feel the bone beneath his knee creaking disturbingly. “(Y/n)!”

This made you pause, and you stared at him.

“S-sir- it h-hurts!”

God, his heart felt like it was splintering.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. I need to try and keep the bleeding under control though, okay? Just until the EMTs come in. Will you let me?” He spoke softly to you, then glanced at Morgan, who had checked if the killer was confirmed to be dead. “Morgan, my keys are in my pocket. Grab my jacket from the car.”

“On it.” He said and rushed over to stuff his hand into Hotch’s pocket, fishing for the keys and sprinting out of the room. Keeping his eyes on you, Hotch noticed your own lazily trailing over his face as though you weren’t so aware he was truly in front of you right now.

“I… I always wanted you to like me, sir.”

No. He unbuckled his belt and, while wincing guiltily, he lifted your leg and wrapped the belt around your large thigh, causing you to let out another sound he would not soon forget.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But please save your energy, try not to talk.” He said, voice thick with tears. He turned his head left and right, eyes wide. “Where the hell are the EMTs?! Get them in here now!”

Absently, he was aware some of the others had rushed over to remove the buckles around your wrists, revealing how sore they were. You began to sob, chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

“Sir… I..”

“Shhh, please. (Y/n), I need you to focus on conserving your energy.” He said softly, but you shook your head, scrunching your eyes closed tightly.

“No! I need to- I need to tell you something, Aaron.” You shifted on the table, missing the startled expression on Hotch’s face at the sound of his name. You had never called him that before.

From the other end of the table Hotch could feel the eyes of his agents on him, but he couldn't stop looking at you, fixated on the pain in your eyes. As he opened his mouth to speak, Morgan sprinted back into the room with Hotch’s jacket in his grasp and held it out.

“Hotch, here-” He said quickly, swallowing thickly at the sight of you. “Think the medics are near. Saw flashing lights coming down the road we took.”

Hotch took hold of his jacket and exhaled.

“Sweetheart, I-I’m sorry but this is gonna hurt.” He fumbled and pressed it into the wound site, causing your back to arch with a shriek. He felt as though he would vomit, knowing that despite him doing this to stop you from bleeding out he was causing you unimaginable pain. A stray tear dripped onto his tie and it was then he realised he was crying.

In his hands, he could already feel your blood soaking right through the stiff fibres of the jacket, so he pressed down even more firmly, trying not to falter when you choked out.

“A-Aaron…” You mumbled, voice weaker than before. He froze. Your eyelids drooped slightly as your lower lip wobbled. “I- you need to know something…”

“(Y/n), please-”

“I don't have much time! I'm so, so cold. Can't feel my legs,” You cut him off desperately. “Just- you need to know I-I’ve always liked you, maybe more than I should. I just… always think about you, maybe we could have been friends in another time.”

It was as though his lungs constricted in his chest and he heaved, gasping out a noise between a cry and whimper. Fuck, fuck! It should never have turned out this way. He wanted to reach out for you, to hold you, wipe those tears and reassure you it was okay and he liked you too. But then your eyelids drooped further, indicating you were about to pass out.

“(Y/n)? Hey, stay with us now!” Prentiss called out to you, shaking your arm slightly. But you didn't respond, staring straight forward. A deep coldness spread through Hotch’s core. No… no, no, no.

“Chest compressions. Derek- start chest compressions!” He shouted, watching the dark skinned man approach quickly to begin pumping his hands roughly but to a beat against your chest. Then he looked at JJ. “Find out where they are-where are the paramedics?!”

The blonde woman appeared startled, more so from the scene unfolding before her. But she nodded and sprinted away. He didn't even know where Dave and Reid were at this point, and yet he couldn't find it in himself to care.

“(Y/n) sweetheart, I need you to wake up. Please open your eyes!”

“Come on, Sugar, can't leave us hanging like this!” Morgan chanted between each chest compression.

Nothing. Hotch could feel his knee locking from the position he held it in, but he did not move. He would not forgive himself for this, the least he could do was injure his knee to keep you alive. You still didn't reawake, body jolting with every deep press of Morgan's hands on your chest.

Finally, he heard the running footsteps and the sound of something metallic being dragged into the building.

“Medics here! Please, allow us access to the patient!” An unfamiliar commanding voice shouted. A flurry of people crossed the space towards the table and immediately took over from Morgan efforts, letting the man step back and take a deep breath. Another had an oxygen mask and bag and placed it over your face, asking for your name.

“Sir, please let me get to her.” Another medic said beside him, but he didn't move. He was frozen.

“Come on, man. You gotta let them help her.” Morgan sounded far off, Hotch couldn't focus on him.

“Sir. I need you to move.” The paramedic was more firm now, then he felt strong arms wrap around his upper body and pulling him back.

“No! She'll bleed out!” Hotch struggled against Morgan's grip to no avail when the both of them stumbled backwards to the far side of the room, letting the medics reach you.

“Stop! You need to calm yourself down, man! They've gotta get her stable enough to take her to the ambulance.” Morgan said, and only then did the frazzled unit chief stop struggling against him. He choked out a sob as they worked around you, manoeuvring you carefully out of the stirrups and onto the gurney. No noise came from you, his stomach tightened. And suddenly, they were rolling the gurney out of the room.

“I'm going with her.”

Hotch began to follow behind the group of paramedics, ignoring the horrified looks around him. Before he could even speak one of them spotted him and met him half way across the yard, eyeing his bloodied appearance.

“Sir…”

“Please. Let me come with her.” He pleaded softly, hands curled up tightly into fists.

“Sir, I don't know if that's a good idea. Our patient keeps going into cardiac arrest, this can be distressing-”

“-And she is my agent. You must let me see her to the hospital.”

Hotch stared at the paramedic firmly, although their face was becoming blurry.

From within the ambulance came the sound of frantic beeps and they gave Hotch one last look, murmured a quick apology and turned away to run over, clambering inside.

All he could do was watch them continue chest compressions on you, then the doors closed and the vehicle pulled away, leaving him standing there. Everything felt distant now, the calls of his name, the sound of several pairs of footsteps, it was murky.

Hotch felt himself heave, double over and with a groan; he vomited onto the dirt yard.

Oh nooooooooo what a mess :3 thank you for reading this far!! And also I'm sorry LMFAO

Taglist:

@southernraven @deludedfruitcake @tgskitten @zaddyhotch @cm-slvts-31 @dins-cyarika @midnghtprentiss @buckxysdoll @jazzimac1967 @louderfortheback @balariie @yeahmaybenoo @viawritesstuff @bau-muffin @littlegirl-bd

[slytherinshua]

WHEN WE MEET AGAIN

genre. angst. maybe werewolf au but not rly. warnings. crying. separation. blood mention. kissing. i know very very little abt &team's storyline so this is def not accurate. pairing. k x fem!reader. wc. 945. request. no. a/n. this ending scene from firework always had my brain spinning since i first watched the mv. i wanted to make a fic out of it for the longest time. if i knew the lore more then i might know what's going on in that scene, but i just took the random inspiration i was getting from the vibes.

You opened your eyes when the moon was half an hour from being at its height. Shrugging off Taki who was sleeping on top of you and carefully stepping out of the huddled pile of the rest of the boys, you made your way over to the shoreline and waited.

It didn’t take long for him to walk up next to you. You wanted to look at him, but you kept your gaze on the water, too afraid that you’d break if you took even one look. The air was heavy and cold, and the pit in your stomach only grew as the seconds went by.

“Yudai.” You finally broke the silence with a whisper, and turned your head to look at him. You immediately wish you hadn’t. 

No, it wasn’t from the dried blood on his hands or the messy hair that made him look even more attractive than he already was. It was the wetness on his cheeks; the tears that had already escaped his eyes to slide slowly down until they hit the sand. 

“I just don’t think it’s safe anymore.” He whispered. His voice was choked up and a little raspy.

“W-we were doing fine, though. We were holding on.” You tried to argue with him, but you knew it would be of little use. The past few months had been less than ideal, especially for the younger boys. You just couldn’t think of accepting whatever Yudai was suggesting. 

“We weren’t— We aren’t. We’re not okay, Y/n. You know we’re not.” He let out a heavy sigh and brushed the tears off his cheeks. “I can’t keep asking Yuma to go on food duty. He flinches if he even sees a bug. If we keep this up, they’re all going to be traumatized. I don’t want them to live like this.”

“I know. But don’t you think it’s too extreme? Isn’t there any other way?”

“No one is going to mess with you once I’m gone. You know they’re only after me in the first place.” He reasoned. You knew he was right. He was always right— always sensible while you were selfish.

“I don’t want to go on without you.” You said, a single tear slipping out.

He looked away from you, back at the water lapping at the shore and the moon shining brightly against the sand.

“I’ll find you again. Once I get them, I’ll find you again.” He muttered. You reached for his hand weakly. You knew you shouldn’t. Any amount of contact with him would make it a million times harder for both of you, but you couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t stand being right next to him and not embracing him; not touching him in some way, providing any comfort that you could. You knew he desperately needed it.

He didn’t shake off your hand, which was what you were most afraid of. The fact that he still held you with the same warmth simultaneously made it better and so much worse. You weren’t sure how you would survive for any amount of time without him.

“What if you can’t find me again?” You whispered your worry aloud and Yudai squeezed your hand. His hand was cold despite the warmth of his love. His fingers were practically icicles and the dried blood still stuck to them didn’t help. You didn’t mind the cold or the blood. All you wanted was one last chance to hold him.

“I will find you. I promise.” He assured you, resting his forehead against yours. A tear fell from his eyes and landed on your cheek. You reached up one of your hands to cup his face.

“I’ll wait for you. Even if it takes 10 years, or 20, or 50— I’ll still be waiting.” You promised him back.

He nodded, silently agreeing that he would also wait for you. His breath was cold hitting your lips; so cold that the thought of hypothermia crossed your mind. But you knew you had no time to ask about it or to worry. You had seen him get through worse; a bit of exposure to the chill of the winter wouldn’t be the end of him.

Though his lips were cold, the kiss was warm. You hoped it warmed his body as much as it warmed yours. It spread from your heart to your stomach and up your neck to your head. You felt light as if you were floating. The dread that was weighing in your stomach for so long lessened as you thought of his promise.

This wasn’t the end. It was just a pause. He was going to find you again.

When he broke off the kiss, you knew you didn’t have much time left, so you pulled him close into your arms for your last hug. He hugged you tightly, as if you were the one disappearing and not him. And as soon as he started pulling away again you wanted to cry, or pull him back, or try to think of a better solution— anything to not watch him walking away from you.

But you stayed silent. You had already been selfish; wanting one last touch, one last hug, one last kiss. You should have let him go without the promises and without the tears. Watching him disappear before your eyes, giving you one last look before escaping into the trees was like a stab to your heart. You dropped to the sand in tears. The hurt seeped into every part of your body, an ache, a stab, a lurch; it was overpowering.

Surely, the pain would be bearable if you had only loved him less?

↳ &team taglist: @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @chiiyuuvv

[dollfaceksj]

Does jk rly only want oc because she looks like Mia:(….

i know i said jk x reader would be endgame but honestly, i’m gonna leave it up to you guys.

ps: some ppl still seem to be confused abt some things so let me make it clear

taehyung DOES NOT have feelings for y/n. idk how much more clear i had to make that in the previous drabble but im saying it now

reader was NEVER pregnant. that’s why they’re called SCARES.

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #34

masterlist

<- previous ; next ->

you raised your shaky fist and quickly knocked on his front door

you tried to keep your sobs contained but ultimately failed

your sleeves were full of tears and snot and you had no more space on them to clean yourself up

the door swung open and there he was, headphones on his head and controller in his hand with a complimentary annoyed pinch between his brows

he looked annoyed for a few seconds from being interrupted while playing but the moment he saw your state, instant concern seeped onto his expression and his stomach dropped

“what happened?” he asked immediately

you glanced inside of his apartment to make sure he was alone

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i don’t know what to do. i never meant for this to happen,” you rambled, choking on tears and sobs

he instantly took his headphones off and tossed them and his controller at his couch with no regard whether they landed safely or not before pulling you inside and closing the door behind you. “hey, hey. breathe. tell me what happened.”

“i swear i didn’t mean for this to happen, taehyung. i’m so sorry. i don’t know what to do. i’m panicking, please, don’t be mad at me. please, don’t be mad.” you stumbled over every word, barely being understandable with how hard you were sobbing

“hey,” he whispered as he gently shook you by your shoulders to get you to your senses. “i told you to breathe. tell me what happened.”

you had never just shown up this upset and it made his heart beat faster with panic but he had to stay calm for you

you took a few breaths to calm yourself down before opening your mouth to say, “i’m late. my period is late. it should’ve come through 4 days ago but it still hasn’t. please, please, don’t be mad at me.”

he blinked at you in confusion for a few seconds before the realization ultimately set on his face

this was the first time something like this had happened

you’d never had any problems or worries for the almost 3 years you and taehyung had been there

but you two were just halfway through your junior year and you had one more year to go

you dreamed of being seniors with taehyung

and this was going to ruin it

taehyung instantly pulled you into a hug to comfort you and stroked your head to calm you down. “don’t worry, i’m not mad. things like this happen. whatever happens, i’m here. i mean, that’s why i’m here right? i’m here to help. i’ll always be by your side.”

you sobbed into his chest, messing up his shirt but he paid no mind to it and continued to comfort you

“please, please don’t tell my parents, tae. they will kill me.”

“of course i won’t. if they killed you, how would i annoy you?” he attempted to make you smile and it worked, even though he couldn’t see your face. “besides, they’d kill me too.”

you sniffled a couple of times before pulling your face back to look at him. “what do you mean? it’s my fault.”

he shook his head and gently wiped your tears with his thumbs. “you’re my responsibility. i won’t let you take all the blame.”

you tried so hard not to bawl all over again. you never did anything to deserve someone like tae

you didn’t want to put all that responsibility on him but in that moment you didn’t know what else to do

“hyunjin’s?” he quietly asked as he rubbed the pad of his thumb in between your brows to smooth out the pinch between your brows

hyunjin was your boyfriend at the time

he didn’t want to offend you and imply you’d been cheating or anything like that, but it was clear he wanted to be sure about everything

you slowly nodded your head, sniffing quietly

“does he know?”

you shook your head in response

taehyung was the first to know

taehyung was the first to know everything

always

he exhaled deeply. “okay. whatever happens, it’s okay. if you’re pregnant, whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

“i’m still in school, i can’t have a baby right now.” you had finally started calming down a bit and it was all thanks to taehyung

he nodded quickly and said, “okay. we’ll book an appointment at the clinic then.”

you sniffed softly. “but abortions are so expensive.”

he frowned and shook his head. “don’t worry about the price, alright? i told you, you’re my responsibility. just rely on me, okay?”

you knew taehyung didn’t have that kind of money

you never wanted to put that amount of responsibility on taehyung, never

but in that moment you were so scared

so damn scared

that you just nodded your head and continued to hug him

he led you to his bed and cuddled you for the rest of the night, talking about your favorite topics and even leaving to go to the nightshop at one point to go get your favorite tub of ben & jerry’s ice cream

“aren’t you gonna get banned from the game for leaving during an online match?” you asked, sounding muffled from being buried in his chest

you knew taehyung absolutely loved gaming, everyone knew that

he was always gaming

so him having to ditch made you feel guilty

but he simply hummed in response.

and you tried so hard not to start crying again because you genuinely don’t deserve him

thankfully, it turned out to be just a scare and no extra steps had to be taken

either way, taehyung never viewed you any different and he dropped everything to help you

he’d do it again in a heartbeat

which he did when your second scare happened a year later and it went exactly like this one

[present]

staring at all of it scattered on your floor

the image of taehyung running through the rain to get you this stuff

to then walk in on what he walked in on

you can’t take it

and that’s when you drop to the floor

your hands reaching for the korean fried chicken scattered across your floor

and it’s seriously burning the skin on your fingers

you hiss, the smoke coming off the chicken and your skin is a clear indicator that the food is piping hot

you can’t believe it

not taehyung

you can’t lose taehyung

:(

“stop that!”

jungkook’s voice rings in your ears as he smacks the chicken out of your hands and reaches for paper towels to clean the hot sticky remnants of your fingers

all the emotions you kept hidden in front of taehyung are just pouring out of you

you don’t even care about the mia thing

you don’t even care about your business being aired

all you care about right now is taehyung

“he hates m– don’t touch me,” you shriek, trying to fight against jungkook, hitting, punching, pushing against his chest in an attempt to get him off

the only person you need to tell you everything’s gonna be okay is taehyung

you need taehyung

jungkook lets you get some of your emotions out but when you continue to hit him, he grabs your wrists to stop you

you keep staring at the spilled food

your throat burning

eyes stinging

nose running

“calm down,” is all jungkook says when you continue to fight against him but he’s too strong for you. “he doesn’t hate you, he’s just upset.”

your arms slowly start giving up and your eyes travel up to meet his

and his eyes are just genuine

staring at you like there’s no doubt in his mind that taehyung still loves and cares for you

and that’s when the tears start uncontrollably pouring out of your eyes

you sob, head held down whilst jungkook still holds your wrists

you collapse forwards, straight into jungkook’s chest

sobbing and sobbing

the shirt he’s wearing is taehyung’s

it smells like your laundry detergent and faintly like taehyung

you grip the shirt, holding onto it like it’s a piece of taehyung

“i don’t want him to hate me. i swear i never meant to hurt him like that. he’s really hurt. what do i do? what if he never wants to see me again?”

no one will ever understand the bond you share with tae

he’s your best friend. your brother. your soulmate

he loves you like a parent

cares for you like a best friend

protects you like a brother

and annoys you like all 3 of those in one

you would’ve never been here without him

“he doesn’t hate you. he just exploded after all that. that doesn’t make it okay but it does make him human. hyung would run a million laps around the perimeter of the earth with bare feet until the skin of his feet fell off just to see you smile. you know that.”

jungkook continues to talk sense into you

even though he’s also shaken up from being threatened by tae and exposed like that

taehyung has never threatened him before

they’ve just had dumb arguments here and there but nothing like this

jungkook himself is trembling with the fear of taehyung hating him

because that could actually be the case

but he’s ignoring his own panic and emotions to talk you down because he knows taehyung could truly never hate you

after awhile of soothing back rubs and occasional shaky breaths

you pull out of jungkook’s embrace

you look up at him and wipe your nose

and you see his red nose and teary eyes too

you want to tell him to fuck off

that you never want to see him again

that you hate him

unfortunately you get slapped in the face with the reality of your feelings for him

cause you can’t help but want to hear him out

but

all you can bring yourself to say

is, “mia…?”

at this, jungkook sighs

you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your robe and get up from the floor, pushing him off

you walk up to the sink, washing off some of the remnants of the sauce on the chicken that the paper towels couldn’t get off

in your peripherals you see jungkook rising to his feet too, softly sniffing

you swallow in hopes to calm yourself down before turning to him. “are you still in love with her? is that why you want me? is that why you think you’re in love with me?”

he sighs deeply and rubs his eyes, wiping his tears with the paper towel

“no, y/n. you’ve got it all wrong.”

you cross your arms. “then speak or i swear, i’ll lose it.” your voice gets shaky towards the end and you’re getting emotional again

he finally looks at you. “i’m not in love with her because i fucking hate her, alright?”

…

where have you heard that one before?

“is that supposed to make me feel better? you said the exact same thing about me 2 months ago.”

he shakes his head again. “hyung doesn’t know the whole story and he just fucking messed everything up,” he grumbles whilst running his hand through his hair

“then tell me the story alread–!”

“she cheated, okay?” he slightly raises his voice but immediately repeats himself in a calmer tone. “she cheated.”

you stare at him with teary eyes, wanting him to keep going

he deeply sighs. “i’m not gonna go out like my mom.”

fuck

right

his mom was lying on a cold metal table in a morgue while his father was burying his junk in someone else’s trunk

you slightly scrunch your nose to try and stop yourself from getting emotional again

he continues, “yes. you look like her. i won’t deny that.” he stays where he is, just scanning you from a distance for your reactions.

“but you are absolutely nothing alike.”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes at this

“when i first met her in high school, she was all over me. i loved the attention she gave me. it made me feel like i was at the top of the fucking world. her love for me made me like her. i know that’s fucked up but i realized way later.”

you stay quiet as he explains, blinking at him and trying to stay as neutral as possible

“but you,” he pauses, shaking his head. “you wanted nothing to do with me. i didn’t get it. i didn’t like you because of that. a lot of people would say it would intrigue them but it hurt my ego.”

oh

you didn’t know that

“but as time went on i felt myself craving your validation just because i wanted to prove to you that i was likeable. that i wasn’t gross or nothing more than just a fuckboy. that i did have something good to offer.”

he quietly sniffles and wipes his newer tears with the back of his hand

you didn’t know he was still holding onto those things you said

but after finding out about his trauma…

“i had to put in work for you. it was completely different as it was with her. and the moment i realized i was feeling something for you, i got defensive and didn’t want to admit it. you being with yoongi just reminded me of when she cheated but not because you look alike, but simply because i’d been in a situation like this before.”

you take a deep breath. “did you say you hated my features because they reminded you of her?”

he stays quiet for a few moments.

“yes.”

you turn to the sink again and lean against it with your arms, hanging your head down

“no matter how shitty of me it was, i realized i needed to stay away from you until i got my shit together cause in that moment i did think i wanted you because of her. and that’s when i isolated for two months.”

you try not to cry but the silent tears make a whole lot of noise when they land in the sink

“but then i saw you at that party, it made me realize what the fuck i was doing was bullshit. you came dressed like a fallen angel. covered in blood, a broken halo, clipped wings. it made me realize even with all that,” he pauses, “you’re still an angel. you’re still y/n. not mia. the extra things on your costume were like your similar features because they didn’t define you, much less what i felt for you. you still make my heart beat out of my chest. you still make me want to launch myself at the sun. you still make me wonder what i did to be so lucky to even spend a minute of my day with you. and it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with you.”

you sniff quietly, moving your hand up to wipe your runny nose with the back of your hand

“she’s engaged now and i’m happy she found what she was looking for. i wasn’t mad that she left me, i was mad that she cheated. it made me feel like trash. it reminded me of my dad. and if i was really so obsessed with her like hyung says, wouldn’t all the girls i slept with look like her? does eunbi look like you? does isabella? does hyunjoo? areum? miyoung? sahee? han–”

“i get it,” you mumble.

like man ain’t nobody trynna hear that shit rn😒

and he’s right

you look absolutely nothing like those girls

you slowly turn to look at him and he sniffs again, wiping his runny nose and he clearly doesn’t care about wiping his tears anymore

you rub your own arms in comfort

“alright. you’ve said your piece. aren’t you going to ask about my dirty laundry?”

he squints his eyes at you. “did you lie to me about being on the pill?”

you truthfully shake your head in response

“then whatever happened back then is none of my business.”

oh

okay.

you didn’t expect that

it’s quiet for a few moments

real quiet

until he speaks up

he quietly sniffles when he asks, “do you want me to leave?”

to be continued

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[runariya]

Will there be a chapter or a few scenes from jk’s pov? I’m really curious about his thoughts regarding all that’s happening right now and also curious about what drew him to oc in the first place considering he always loved taking risks and she was always the opposite in this regard, at least during their relationship.

not rly, tho I do accept drabble requests for my fics...speaking of...

The one where JK and OC start dating 💕

word count: 1.800 (lol)

Jungkook has been thinking about you for a long time now, ever since the day you first met. It’s been over a year of friendship—late-night talks, binge-watching shows, sharing food, and sometimes just sitting in comfortable silence. The kind of moments that shouldn’t feel like anything special but, with you, feel like everything. 

It’s funny, though, how even after all this time, you still make him nervous. Not in the awkward way he might’ve been when you first met, but in the kind of nervous that gets under his skin, makes his a little breathless, and his hands fidget whenever you’re close.

He can remember the exact moment he fell for you, though it sounds ridiculous when he plays it back in his head. You were so helpless—just sitting there in your car weeping in the narrow side street—but something about the way you looked at him after he knocked on the window, the way you started laughing right after, it hit him all at once. He felt it deep in his gut, this certainty, like he just knew. That’s what love at first sight was. 

And then came everything after, everything that followed. You, with your carefully planned out life, your sensible decisions, the way you always thought things through, never acting on impulse or emotion. You, who double-checked the train schedules and had contingency plans for things that probably weren’t even going to happen. 

He should’ve found that frustrating, annoying even, given how opposite you were to him. Jungkook, who lived for the rush of spontaneity, the thrill of last-minute decisions, the way his pulse would pound when he went just a little too fast on his motorbike or tried something new on a whim.

Yet, instead of being frustrated, he found himself drawn to it. You calmed him, steadied him. Being around you was like catching his breath after running for so long, realising he didn’t need to be running at all. It was unexpected, the way you settled something inside him without even trying.

It hit him hardest when you agreed to join him on that hiking trip. You, who preferred to stay home on weekends, your idea of fun involving quiet nights in, agreed to hike up a mountain with him. It wasn’t anything crazy, not by his standards at least, but it was out of your comfort zone. And you went for it. You even laughed at yourself when you stumbled over a root, swore under your breath when the trail got too steep, but you kept going. 

Jungkook remembers how his chest had felt thifht that day, but not in the way it usually did when he was out chasing that rush of adrenaline. It was something so much more beautiful—a thrill of a different kind, realising how much he wanted you in his life, in all of it.

And now, after over a whole damn year, here he is, sitting across from you in a restaurant he had chosen for both of you, pretending everything’s normal. You’re talking about your day, about work or something—he isn’t really paying attention because his mind is occupied with what he’s about to do. His heart is pounding so hard, he swears it’s audible, the rush of blood in his ears drowning out the noise of the restaurant and your soft voice.

This is it. He’s going to ask you out. Properly. Not in the casual, hey, want to hang out again tomorrow? way that he’s done for the past year. This time, it’s going to mean something different. This time, he’s going to make it clear that he wants more.

His palms are sweating, his fingers tapping anxiously against each other, and he can’t help but glance at you every few seconds, wondering if you notice. If you can tell that something’s off. But you seem so at ease, so content in your world, sipping your drink and smiling at him like you always do. You have no idea how hard it is for him right now.

He takes a deep breath. Just do it, Jungkook. Stop overthinking it and just ask her. It’s not like he hasn’t faced worse than this, right? But that’s the thing—this is worse. 

Because with you, there’s so much more at stake. If you say no, it’s not just his pride on the line. It’s everything. It’s the friendship you’ve built, the trust, the comfort, the late nights and lazy mornings spent in each other’s company. He can’t lose that. But he also can’t go on pretending that this isn’t killing him inside.

He clears his throat, but his voice cracks a little when he speaks. Smooth, Jungkook.

“So, um, I’ve been thinking.” His words are awkward, clumsy even, not at all how he imagined this going in his head. You look up at him, eyebrows raised, and now he’s lost track of what he’s supposed to say next. Great.

“About what?” you ask, voice calm, eyes curious, completely unaware of the internal battle he’s waging right now.

He swallows hard, fingers fidgeting with the napkin on his lap. He can feel the adrenaline kicking in, his body reacting the same way it does when he’s about to take a leap from a cliff into the ocean, except this is so much more terrifying.

“I’ve been thinking about… us,” he stammers, and instantly regrets the vagueness of his words. Why does he always make things harder for himself?

You blink, head tilting slightly as if you’re trying to figure out where he’s going with this. “Us?”

“Yeah. Us.” He breathes out heavily, raking a hand through his hair gelled hair and regretting it right after. “You and me. How we’ve been, y’know, friends for a while now…and how we spend so much time together.”

You nod slowly, still looking at him like you’re waiting for the punchline. And honestly, he’s starting to feel like he’s delivering one too. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I don’t just want to be your friend anymore,” he blurts out, wincing slightly at how blunt it sounds. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that.

You freeze, your fork hovering mid-air as you stare at him, eyes wide. The shock on your face is evident, and he can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“What… what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest. He takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself. There’s no going back now.

“I mean…I lo…like you,” he says, forcing himself to meet your gaze. “I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had. You’re important to me, and I didn’t want to mess that up, but…” He pauses, running a hand over his face. “But I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being friends when I want more. I want us to be more than that.”

Your silence is killing him. You’re staring at him like you’re trying to process his words, and for a split second, he wonders if he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life.

“Jungkook…” you start, your voice soft, but he cuts you off before you can say anything else.

“I know you’re not the kind of person who takes risks,” he rushes out, “and I know I’m the exact opposite of that. I’ve spent my whole life chasing thrills, doing things on a whim, not thinking about the consequences. But you… you make me want to slow down. You make me want to be someone better. Someone you can rely on. I don’t want to keep living the way I have been. I want something real, something that lasts. And I want that with you.”

You’re still silent, but your eyes have softened, and that gives him hope.

“I know I’m not perfect,” he continues, his voice so much quieter now. “I know I can be reckless and impulsive, and I know that’s probably the exact opposite of what you need. But you balance me out. You make me see things differently, make me realise that not everything has to be about the next big adventure. I want to settle down with you. I want us to build something together. I want kids and a home, and all the things I never thought I’d want until I met you.”

He’s laying it all out there now, heart on his sleeve, and it’s terrifying. He feels exposed, vulnerable, like he’s dangling over the edge of that damn cliff and waiting for you to either pull him back or let him fall.

You take a deep breath, setting your fork down, and Jungkook watches as your expression shifts. For a moment, he fears the worst—that you’re going to tell him you don’t feel the same way, that you’re going to ask if you can just stay friends. But then, you speak.

“I didn’t know. I had no idea you felt that way.”

He bites his lip, nodding. “Yeah, well… I’m not exactly great at showing it.”

You look down at your hands, fingers fidgeting with your cutlery, and Jungkook feels the deadly weight of the silence settle between you. He’s about to say something—anything to fill the space—but then you look up at him again, and there’s something in your eyes that makes his heart stop, no, race and then stop again.

“I don’t take risks,” you admit, your voice soft. “It’s who I am. And I’m scared, Jungkook. I’m scared of what this could mean, of what could happen if things go wrong.”

Jungkook might faint, but he forces himself to stay calm, to let you finish.

“But…” you continue, your voice a little stronger now, “I’ve also never met anyone like you. You challenge me, push me out of my comfort zone in ways I never thought I’d be somehow okay with. And I… I think I like that. I like you.”

Jungkook feels like his heart might explode from the relief, the joy that’s flooding his system. He doesn’t think, doesn’t even hesitate before reaching across the table and grabbing your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours in a way that feels so natural, so right.

“You mean it?” he needs your confirmation.

You nod, your smile growing. “Yeah. I mean it.”

And just like that, all the fear, all the anxiety he’s been holding onto for so long, melts away. Jungkook squeezes your hand, his grin now mirroring your own. He can’t believe it. After all this time, all the wondering, the overthinking, you’re here. And he’s with you. And he finally can start living. 

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