#ignore age issues he is like 10

[starlooove]

Omg just remembered the Alfred grandchild I made up

[crypt1dcorv1dae]

"chilshi is problematic because SENSHI thought chilchuck was a kid"

1: he eventually does come to understand that's not the case and even comments on it in his journal (he feels bad about misjudging him and his age)

2: falin and marcille met when falin was literally an actual child and marcille literally comments that she still sees falin that way (when falin says that she's a lot bigger than the last time they had a sleepover)

and I never see anybody give a fat fucking shit about that (whether they should or not, is not the point right now) so maybe don't be a hypocrite about a ship that's literally TWO MIDDLE AGED MEN just cus one misjudged the others age for a little while when the MOST POPULAR SHIP IN THE FANDOM is potentially suspect in a much realer way (given falin ACTUALLY WAS a child when they met)

Don't do the double standards thing

Edit: also tbh chilchuck has really never looked like a kid to me. It's about the way he carries himself like... No that's a grown ass man. He's just short and has a babyface. I know many twinks like this

[saeist]

SAEIST WE NEED AN AFTER ARGUMENT FLUFF FROM OUR LOVER SAE

you and sae rarely argued.

obviously there were a few misunderstandings here and there but given that you two were adults, misunderstandings would often be patched up by the end of the day as communication is something sae values a lot especially with how most of the time, you two are in a long distance relationship with his profession and all.

sae would rather have things said right on the dot than to beat around the bush

however, communicating with the soccer super star sometimes isn't enough. especially when his stubbornness kicks in. when times are in drastic measures and you two are not on the same boat even after talking it out rationally, sometimes all hell breaks loose.

all because sae has a bad habit of ignoring you when your little misunderstanding that turns into a full blown argument that blows out of proportion.

it's very on brand of him to do so if you say so yourself.

one could say it's a force of habit given this is the treatment he gives his own manager when things aren't going the way he envisions it. but some could also say that sae is just a blatant asshole for acting like this at his grown ass age

now you might be wondering, what could you two argue about that ended up with sae ignoring you? well it's because sae can't just bite back his own tongue

you were telling him that he should take it a little slow with his trainings because intense trainings usually bring home an irritated sae that would quite literally berate everything he sees including inanimate objects such as your shared pet cactus

and sae being sae, he most likely have said some not very nice things that may have escalated into whatever predicament you two are in right now instead of compromising and working things out like you two normally would

hours have passed and it's just been silence in your shared apartment. if you listened closely you could probably hear a pin drop with how eerie quiet it was

you've already grown past the issue. in retrospect it was kinda nonsensical now that you were off the intense emotional high. now that you think about it, the whole thing that went between you and sae just sounded stupid

amidst these past few hours, sae would occassionally come out of his office to get himself a glass of water to drink or some shit from the pantry. literally anything he can get his hands on in the kitchen where he needs to pass by the living room where you were currently in

you can feel his gaze boring holes onto the back of your head whenever he was at the kitchen for like 10 seconds. you know that he was itching to talk things out with you but you know better that his pride was on the line

talk about egotistical, right?

it was dinner time when sae breaks. he honestly looks and sounds like a stray cat who just got drenched in the rain and needed to take refuge in your care

"sorry" sae murmurs, looking up from his plate to give you the look of defeat evident in his eyes

sae was sure for a while that you would be the first one to break the ice in this little cold war you two currently have going on. boy, was he wrong.

you thought it'd be time for sae to have a taste of his own medicine for a change. how it would feel to be the receiving end of his silent treatment

noticing that you weren't saying anything and continued munching on your food, he initially thought you didn't hear him clearly. so he clears his throat in attempt to catch your attention.

"i said i'm sorry" he coughs, putting down his fork as he waits for you to lift your head up to look at him in the eye while he was talking to you

silence.

sae's eyes widened. usually you'd accept his apology right away. you can't resist him, and neither can he resist you so what's with the sudden switch?

he waits a little more in case you were just busy digesting your food properly but a beat of silence passes by and you were now getting up from the table to put your dishes on the sink.

"y/n" he calls out, running after you to the kitchen. you barely even spare him a glance, maneuvering your way around him to get to the kitchen sink so you could start washing your plate

sae debates with himself if he were to call your name again but quickly realizes that you aren't going to respond any time soon. he sighs, dropping his head. looks like he just lost in his own game

instead, he gets this idea to just follow you around like a lost puppy.

to be frank, you were lowkey enjoying tormenting sae like this. it was too good to be true that he would be the one to grovel and get on his knees to beg for your attention. the way he is literally attached to your hip as you carry on with your daily night routine which should've included doing the dishes together, cleaning up together and his favorite part of the night– doing skincare together

but alas, why isn't it the consequences of sae's actions.

you two were already in bed at this point but still, you have not uttered a word to sae, who was right next to you, eyes glued to your figure, watching you like a hawk.

sae couldn't take it anymore. he doesn't want to end the day like this where you two aren't talking. it was already a hassle for him that you two didn't talk at all for the rest of the day.

not that he's gonna admit it but he misses you. he misses the way you would talk til his ears fall off. he misses your daily reports to him about whatever you did throughout the day when he was out in training. he misses the laughter in the air as you come up with a (not so) funny joke,

sae just misses you. he's not used to your silence and it's killing him

swallowing his pride, sae slowly takes it upon himself to wrap his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest

"look, i shouldn't have yelled at you like that earlier. you were just looking out for me and i've been a little preoccupied with trainings that it's getting to me. i'm sorry for being an asshole recently" sae sincerely apologizes, a hand carefully reaching to caress your cheeks

with a smile, you finally look up at sae, "took you long enough" you tease, poking his nose

sae releases the air he was holding in, now that you were finally talking to him again

"never put me through that ever again. i'd rather walk through a thousand needles than you ignoring me" sae nags, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

"now you know how i feel when you ignore me!" you retaliate, snuggling closer to him

sae suddenly kisses the side of your face. "i mean what i said though, i'm sorry for saying all those words. i know that you're just looking out for me. let me make it up to you, y/n"

you look up at him, shaking your head

"no, i totally understand that you have to go to trainings. it's fine, sae. just ease up on trainings so i don't have to worry too much for your well being. can't have my super star all worn up" you joke, nudging him in the slightest

sae smiles. what did he ever do to deserve you

"whatever. i'm still gonna make it up to you for always dealing with me"

"if it's you sae, i don't mind dealing with you at all"

[delphi-shield]

:// sᴍᴀʟʟ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ / ʙɪʟʟʏ.ʙᴜᴛᴄʜᴇʀ

Billy Butcher x Reader smut, hurt/no comfort wc: ~5.2k mdni read on ao3 digging the worms out of my brain real quick since i finally caught up with the boys. idk i think i worked through something personal with this, so like, that's a win for me.

summary: Butcher knows better than to be fucking around with you, but there's 50 quid in it for him if he gets you to call him 'daddy'. Easy money.

content: s4 spoilers, dubcon, butcher's pov, an exorbitant amount of kessler in the first half, age gap, general sleazy behavior, handjob, finger fucking, piv, pussy slapping, some just the tip action, blowjob, mentions of titfucking, degradation, general objectification, public sex, not proofread.

“Makes you realize men have nipples too.”

The bar is packed for a Wednesday night, but Butcher already knows exactly what Kessler is talking about. You’re a ditch lily, sitting tall in this shithole. He turns his head away, pretends he doesn't see the way you lick up a trail of spilled cosmopolitan from the side of your glass, pink tongue parting your lips, eyes half-shut. 

Fucking typical. Kessler could sniff out daddy issues and sadness from a mile away, and he was lethal at half that distance. He could have them wrapped around his finger in the time it took Butcher to take a piss.

His eyes linger. A thing like you doesn't belong in a dump like this. This is the sort of place girls like you stumble into at 1 AM, survey the crowd through the haze of cigarette smoke, and wobble right back out onto the streets, take your chances with the elements rather than the haggard, unfriendly crowd that hunches over their drinks.

Butcher likes Midwest 10's. Begs Kessler to stop ogling barely legal co-eds, says he's not some sleazy cunt in a John Hughes film. He can lie all he wants. If it makes him hard, it makes Butcher hard. 

He glances sidelong at your face. You've got this Christmas-light bright smile that makes his dick jerk. Kessler’s more than under his skin. He’s in his veins, in the same blood that raises his cock up like a goddamn bicycle pump when you lean over the bar, arms squeezing your tits together.

"You could probably fuck 'em." Kessler tips his head to the side, eyes locked on your cleavage. His eyes narrow, lips pursed, evaluating your chest and charting a course for his dick to travel.

"Shut up."

"Huh?"

Fuck. Your tip your head to the side from two seats away, brows pinched together. Cute, in a lost little lamb kind of way.

Butcher's eyes cut to Kessler. He's cocked it all up now. The sly, punchable grin on Kessler’s face turns him back to his drink. He drains his glass and gestures for another. If he doesn’t look at you, if he keeps drinking, this all goes away.

"Nothin'. Don't you worry about it, love."

That should be the end of it, but you’ve clearly got something wrong with you. You fiddle with your purse, pluck up your courage, and drop yourself onto the barstool next to him. Whether you’ve got no sense of self-preservation or you’re just that damn oblivious, he doesn’t intend to get to know you well enough to find out. Butcher's strained smile doesn't do much to smooth the worry lines away.

Kessler chuckles, leans back and props his elbows up on the bar. Cunt just wants to watch him squirm.

"No," Kessler corrects, drawing the word out. "I want you to get some pussy."

His eyes dart over to Kessler, looming over you, hands ghosting up your arms to squeeze your shoulders. He blinks rapidly, rubs at his face, tries to play it off like he's nervous or tired or whatever the fuck but when he looks down, there's your tits again. Butcher lolls his head back to the ceiling. Laugh it up, you fuckin’ cunt.

And Kessler does. Makes a show of slapping his hand on his thigh, head knocked back, grinning toothily.

He tries to ignore you, but you’re straddling that stool next to him in your little skirt and ordering another cosmo. This isn’t the kind of bar for cocktails, and he knows without even seeing the bartender’s eye roll that he hates you.

It's none of his business. He ought to keep himself sat there drowning in his drink ‘til last call and past that, make them throw him out on the street, give him a reason to swing first. It's a better idea than messing with you.

The bartender drops your drink off in front of you and turns before the words ‘thank you’ leave your glossy lips. Another sickly pink cocktail with a dried out lime dropped on top. Butcher can’t help himself. He’s got a soft spot for the clueless.

“Cheery bloke, isn't he?” He says, casting a sidelong glance at the bartender. He taps a finger against the bartop, inclines his head toward your cocktail. “That the only drink you know the name of?”

Your cheeks warm. You hide it behind a hand, turning your face away from him to laugh.

“What? No. I just think they taste good.”

Kessler snorts. “That’s a fat load of shit.”

Butcher agrees. His mouth twists into a half-hearted smile. He slides his glass over to you. 

“Try it,” he insists.

There’s hardly a passing thought for your own safety. You look between his scotch and his face and seem to decide it’s safe to take drinks from strange old fucks in bars. Your fingers brush his when you take the glass, warm and soft - sticky. You must be more sloshed than you look, must keep spilling your drinks. Hell, for all he knows, maybe this place does make the best cosmo in the city. Maybe the bartender just hates your ass because you keep making a mess.

You don’t even ask what he’s drinking. (Maybe this is all a grift, he thinks. Kessler’s at his ear, chuckling - she ain’t bright enough for that.) You lift his glass and leave your lipstick behind.

“Oh my god.” You sputter, pound a fist against your chest. It makes your tits bounce. Fucking miracle your shirt is containing those things. “That tastes like ass.”

“That is the highest quality scotch this bar serves.”

“It tastes like someone put a cigarette out in a glass of whiskey.”

“It’s a shit bar.”

You laugh, head tipped back, nose scrunched - the works. You’re too tipsy for it to be on purpose. Being cute comes naturally to you. Must be how you’ve made it this far.

You pass his drink back and scoot your cosmo closer to you, spilling it as the glass skips over the pock-marked countertop. Butcher snorts, dabs it up for you with his sleeve. He’s starting to think his theory about the cosmopolitans might hold true.

“Well, here, a trade’s a trade.” He takes your drink by the stem (fucking amazed they even have martini glasses in this place) and pounds back a mouthful.

It isn’t that bad, but he makes a show of scrunching his nose and shaking his head. He slides your drink back over to you and mirrors the way you had clung to your drink.

“You’re kidding,” you laugh. “It’s better than yours. I don’t know how you drink that.”

“I’ll keep my liquid ashtray, thanks.”

Your eyes are all lit up when you smile, but it emphasizes the raw edges, the puffiness that lingers. Rough night for you, by the looks of it. Not like he’s having much of a better one.

There’s no harm in it. No harm in showing you what a proper drink tastes like, broadening your horizons and helping you both forget what a shit hand you’ve been dealt. He buys you a drink on the condition that you try something that isn’t a cosmopolitan. You can hardly stomach a whiskey and coke. He orders you a fernet and coke for shits and giggles, expects you to spit it out like all the rest, barks out a laugh when you declare it’s tasty, notes of lavender drawing you in. Notes of lavender - Christ, what fucking suburb did you pop out of? 

He introduces you to more drinks, leans closer with each empty glass. You're new here, you tell him. You tell him your name, too, not that he remembers. Got stood up on some shitty date. He knows it’s got to be shitty because what idiot in his right mind would take you here, of all places?

By the time he orders you both shots of Rumple Minze, you’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. Your hand splays against his chest, head leaning against him. You lift his shot to his lips for him and he’s too drunk to find it childish and irritating. He downs it and does the same for you, watches you extend that pretty neck to drink it down.

“I’ll get you a cab,” he slurs, rocking unsteadily to his feet.

“I already called an Uber.”

Jesus. It’s a struggle not to roll his eyes. Fucking kids. Allergic to one night stands, couldn’t take a hint to save their life. Even Kessler is on his side, his head thunking against the bartop.

It's for the best, he thinks, trying to curb his disappointment. He's got shit to do. Ryan to worry about. Kessler's a right cunt, pushing him to you. He hasn't got the time to be fucking about. This entire thing had been a waste of time, too busy trying to get his dick wet to make the most of what he’s got left.

Butcher stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat, steps back, ready to split and stumble his way back home. He nods quick and sharp, tight-lipped smile to keep his frustration locked behind his teeth.

You show him your phone, make him squint to see what he’s supposed to be looking at. “My Uber is still a couple minutes away, so…”

Kessler picks his head up from the bar. He's a bloodhound for pussy. He picks up the leading edge in your voice before Butcher’s even done parsing your words.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kessler drones. “You can’t even get it up, can you?”

“I’m damn well going to try.”

“What?” You laugh, swaying on your feet.

Butcher wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you against his side. “Nothin’. Don’t you worry about it. I’ll keep you company. Make sure no nasties try to get you.”

The cold outside is bracing. You wrap your arms tight around yourself and this time Butcher’s too drunk to pretend he isn't staring at the way your tits press together.

It’s your idea. Really. The way you look up at him, the way your lips stay parted while the pair of you pace the sidewalk. You wrap your hand around his bicep and squeeze, eyes drifting slowly to the side, to the alleyway just a few strides away.

See? It’s your idea, honest. He drags you behind a dumpster, pins you to the wall of the alley, and shoves his tongue down your throat, yeah, but you moan so fucking loud and drag him closer. It takes longer than he'd like for your hand to stop massaging his chest and start fondling his cock, but you're a sweet girl - don't seem the type to do this too often. Need some guidance.

Butcher lays his hand atop yours, wraps your fingers tighter around his bulge. Your breath hitches, your eyes flicking down to your hand, mouth popped open - got this sweet, vacant little look in your eye.

He'd bet real money you go dumb for cock.

“$50 says you can get her to call you ‘daddy’,” Kessler pipes up, leaning against the wall next to you. He tips a cigarette into his mouth, cups a hand around to light it, and Butcher swears the light from his zippo gleam in your eyes. He doesn’t doubt it. Seems cruel, though, especially when he can’t remember your name.

“What was your name again?”

It takes a bit for you to get dick off your mind and fish around for your name. You mumble, make him lean in close and tilt his head to get you to say it again, clearer.

You're the obedient sort. Pick up on cues so easy. Don't even make him ask for it again. He pats your cheek, smirk creasing his face.

By your side, Kessler flashes a crisp $50. He plucks it taut, fans himself with it, makes a real show of being a dick while you try to take Butcher's out of his pants.

At the end of the day, 50 quid is 50 quid.

“How ‘bout you ask daddy for permission, sweetheart?”

Your mouth moves wordlessly.

“Please?”

He clicks his tongue. “That’s real polite. But it ain’t what I asked for, is it?”

“Can I please play with your cock, daddy?”

“Better.”

Kessler slips the fifty into Butcher’s coat pocket while you fumble with his belt and free him from his pants. You lay his cock in the seam of your hands, cupping him like he’s a gift on two legs. You stroke him reverently, look up at him with big, thoughtless lamb eyes.

Your heart’s in it, but you’re too reserved for his taste. He grips your hand in his and guides you down his cock, shows you when to squeeze, when to twist your wrist, how to flick your thumb over the slit of his tip.

He can never make it last when he drinks. Should have warned you before he came on your pretty skirt, but you’ve got a natural talent for stroking dick. He keeps his groan locked up tight. It rattles through his chest and he leans into you, crushing you against the wall of the alley. His hips stutter and rut into your hand, still wrapped around him, coaxing every drop from his tip. You still toy with him while he tries to catch his breath. He’s got to push away from you with a mumbled “Christ, all right, that’s enough.”

It’s like he’s taking your favorite toy away. You pout up at him, hand still molded for his cock by your side, by the skirt his ruined with his cum. He almost gets an apology out, but you drag a finger through his mess and bring it to your lips, make a show of licking it up.

His chest aches. He isn’t sure if it’s the tumor or his heart desperately trying to pump enough blood down to his dick to get him up again.

Butcher crams two fingers into his mouth and scrapes the dirt from beneath his nails with his teeth. The rest is a blur. He knows that he kicks your feet apart, traces your slit through your panties before he pushes them to the side and finger fucks you until your head snaps back against the wall. It’s quick, messy - leaves his forearm soaked. He’s not so sure that was real, but he’s too drunk to figure it out, too gone ask.

He tucks himself back into his pants. You set your panties back in place, skirt still hiked up to your ribs. You slip a little lower down the wall, panting. He stops you before you can slip all the way down, pats your cunt, and tugs your skirt back into place.

“Let’s get you a cab, eh?”

That’s the last thing he remembers clearly. You’d missed your Uber, had to take a cab with him anyway. He remembers you leaning against him, tucked up against his side, hand stroking his chest. He’d pet your hair - soft as lamb’s wool - and whispered nonsense against your head just to get a laugh out of you. After you get out, the whole thing’s blank.

When Butcher wakes up at 2 PM the next day, choking on his own vomit, he can't find the 50 quid. He turns his jacket inside out searching for it. A scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it falls from his jacket pocket. He doesn’t spare it more than a glance and keeps digging for his wallet.

Lambs lose their appeal after the flying cunts nearly bit his cock off.

That farm had been dirty business. Wicked stuff, the kind that doesn't wash off. This work always has been, but this time the blood doesn't come out from under his fingernails. He tastes bile every time he breathes. The copper twang of blood trickling down the back of his throat is the only chaser he gets anymore.

He doesn't think of you often. He knows it'd break your little heart to hear it, have you looking up at him with those ‘fuck me, I'm sad’ eyes and that little girl pout that makes him feel every bit the lech he is. You’re a sweet thing. Vacant, just like him. It didn’t take long to piece that together.

You’re easy and malleable, quick to fit yourself around him in whatever way he demands. He liked that about you at first.

But when he calls on you at three in the morning for a quick lay and you answer the door in a full face of make-up, hair done and wearing the sort of nightgown that no one actually sleeps in, all he feels is distaste.

You let him crowd you against your couch (a neutral color, no blanket in sight, your living room just as blank as the rest of you) without so much as a ‘hello’. You hook a leg over his hip. No panties, he realizes, eyes locked on your drippy cunt, already flushed. Been touching yourself to the thought of this. He warms a little at the thought.

Butcher wedges his knee between your leg and grinds. Any warmth you’d kindled with wet pussy dissipates the moment you moan so goddamn loud, the sound hollow and plastic. He keeps his leg still, flexes his thigh for you to grind on. His jaw tightens. He nearly shoves his fingers in your mouth to keep you from making those stupid fucking noises.

You let him twist you up however he wants, more a posable toy than a person. He pushes you further along the couch until your back arches awkwardly against the arm. You don't protest. Of course you don't.

His thick fingers trail down your slit, part your slick folds for his inspection. He sways back on his haunches, admires the pretty way he's got you arranged, pinned open on his fingers for him.

He brings his hand down sharply on pussy once, twice - and the third time directly to your clit is just because you kept making that annoying fucking noise. That nasally, porn-star whine that drills him between the eyes and makes his hard-on flag. The way you twitch and jerk at each hit might be genuine but that fucking noise drives him up a wall. Christ, there's got to be something about you that's real.

Pussy’s real. Can’t fake that, he thinks.

“Stay right there,” he says, a bite to his voice when you try to shift against him again. If you could just lay there and take it - is that so much to ask for?

He guides himself to you, hips rocking experimentally. You suck his head in and his chin dips to his chest. He groans deep. It turns to a growl when you raise your hips. He lays his forearm against you, pressing you down - and that moan might have been real.

“Can't you do fucking anything right?” He snaps. His hips push forward, bullying himself deeper into you. You suck a breath through your teeth, your hand bracing against his forearm. “I told you to stay right there.”

A spark of indignation flickers in your eyes, flash-fire flushed out by the same pitiful little lamb wool you pull back over your eyes. Makes you look all downy, plush and fuckable - he's fished more respectable shits from the toilet.

You’re a good girl for a few more shallow thrusts, lay there just like he wants while he works himself to the hilt. He finds his rhythm sloppily, one knee propped on the couch, the other foot planted on the floor. Your tits bounce with every thrust and he’s stupid enough to take his hands off of you, trust you not to move while he gropes at your breast.

Immediately you rise to your elbows, try to arch your back deeper. He’s positive you’re trying to mimic some video, down to the exact angle of your spine, but your heart isn’t in it. His cock butts against your walls, shallower than before, the pleasure that had been tearing through his blood coming to a screeching halt. He hisses through his teeth, grinding out his frustration.

“Don't –” his shoves you back down, hand flattening against your cheek and pushing your face into the couch. Feels fucking awful any other position. “–fucking move. Don't fucking move. Trying to cum. Goddammit.”

Your hands curl into fists by your head. You hide your face, press it deeper into the cushion and he presses your face deeper to help you. The noise you make is pitiful, but at least it's real.

Fucking hell. Now he’s completely out of it. You’ve gone and fucked up pussy for him. He didn’t think that was possible. He can’t find the angle he needs, can’t get back to that gummy spot that make his vision blur.

He pulls out and flips you onto your stomach, ignoring the little whine you make. You don’t raise your hips - god forbid you take a fucking hint - so he sits you up for him and wedges his dick back in. It only takes a few thrusts for him to realize this is worse. Tighter, dry, chafing his dick like goddamn sandpaper.

“Your cunt shrivel up or something? Feels fucking terrible.”

He snatches your wrist, pulls your arm back at an angle that makes you cry out, and fills your palm with lube. Can't even get wet on your own. Fucking Christ, he's got to do everything for you. Even has to curl your fingers around his cock, drag your hand back and forth until you final get the big, swinging fucking hint and jerk him off.

He meant to stuff himself back into your cunt, but at this point your hand will do. Six one way, half a dozen the other. At least your hand doesn't chafe.

You’re silent now. Small mercies. The only sounds are the slick of your palm working him over and his labored breaths. Your hand is clumsy at this angle, but he’s not going to risk letting you move and fuck it all up again.

Once he’s close, he drops your hand and flips you onto your back again. A big hand presses your knees apart, opens you up for him. You're still so pliable, even if the sheen is gone from your cunt. You try to fix your hair. If he notices the tears brimming your eyes, he doesn't say anything.

He lines himself back up with your cunt, dragging himself through your folds. Your knees knock closer with each pass of his bright red tip over your clit. He taps it once with his cock, expecting another produced moan to rattle the walls, but you only whimper, your thighs trying to close around him.

Butcher smirks. He pumps himself into you, keeps himself shallow - just the tip past your puffy lips. 

You whimper, try to shuffle down and take more of him. Butcher’s hand grips your face, squishing your cheeks so hard it stings.

“Don't you fucking move,” he grits out. You used to take instruction so well. Now you've gotten all up in your own head. Nobody likes an uppity bitch, he ought to make you see that.

What he really ought to do is make you get down there and jerk him off. Your hand is still slicked, but you'd probably piss yourself at the chance. Instead, he pushes your knees damn near up to your ears and barks for you to hold your own legs. Your hands curl around the backs of your knees. There you go. Figuring it out again.

His hand strokes his dick quick and hard, one hand dedicated to keeping himself just inside you. It doesn't take long for him to cum. It’s a slow burn that seeps up through his belly, lattices up his ribs and congeals in his chest, makes him ache and cave over your body while his hips sputter. He squeezes himself dry, pumps his cum into your pussy until it flows past his tip and seeps down onto your couch. 

Butcher lingers over you, catching his breath. He’s already gone soft, his cock dropped out of you. He sits back against the opposite arm of the couch, splays himself out while you curl up.

Something burns in his chest - remorse, maybe. You’re all curled up against your couch, cheek cushioned on your arm - won’t look at him, don’t paw at him or lean against his side, don’t even reach to clean yourself up.

His head knocks back to the ceiling. He can’t be bothered to pull answers out of you. He reaches for the tissue box on your coffee table, plucks a handful, and cleans himself off.

He tosses the box back to the coffee table and shoves his boots back on, barely taking the time to lace them up properly. He scoops he coat up from where you’d shucked it onto the floor, buttons himself back up, and you still haven’t moved. His eyes linger on you for a moment, brow set low.

Can’t be bothered, he reminds himself. He runs a hand through his hair and makes for your door, boots thunking heavily against your floors.

“Can I see you again?”

You’ve managed to pick your head up when he glances back at you. You sound so desperate it's pitiful. His lip curls. He runs a hand over his head, looks anywhere but you.

Christ, even your apartment is blank and devoid of personality. He hadn't noticed it before, too consumed with the need to get between your thighs. He shrugs, and gives you a lifeless smile.

“We'll see.”

Butcher closes your door behind him and hurries down the hall. He turns the corner to see Kessler’s cheshire grin greeting him in the dark of your stairwell.

He ought to get right with you before his time comes. He isn't proud of the way things ended. Butcher’s a right bastard, but he isn't blind; he'd seen the look on your face, the hopeful shine in your eyes dulling when he'd left you there without so much as a ‘cheers, love, thanks for the rub’.

He doesn't bother texting you. He's already posted up outside your apartment. Giving you a heads up would only give him time to pussy out.

Besides, you're home. He knows it. You’re piss-easy to track. Home to work, work to home, same route, same time. It will be easy to knock on your door, get his closure, and slip out of your life for the last time.

It should be easy. He’s had harder conversations with people who meant more to him but he keeps staring at your door, trying to will himself to knock. He’s not that weak yet. He can still raise his hand.

Butcher turns to leave just as you open the door. His shoulders tense when you call out to him.

“Billy?” You blurt out. There’s genuine surprise there.

“I just thought I’d –” He turns to catch a glimpse of you and it sends him headlong into silence.

You look a right mess. No face isn’t done up, an oversized t-shirt draping off your shoulders. Your pajama pants are fluffy, snowflake print - tackiest thing he’s seen in a while. 

You duck your head down, trying to catch his eye. 

“You okay?” You hook your thumb over your shoulder. “Want to come in?”

He doesn’t. Not even a little. He wants to rip the band-aid off, forget he ever met you and let you get on with your life - whatever it is you do. But you step to the side and fix him with a weak little smile that he thinks might be real, and his feet take him in through the door.

It’s a nice place in the daytime, he realizes. Natural sunlight, open floorplan, your shelves crowded with plants and knick-knacks he’s never seen. You offer him a drink, laugh when he says water and fall quiet when he insists.

You hand him his drink and collapse onto your couch. Your legs kick up onto your coffee table, and for the first time he realizes your socks are fuzzy, too. He looks around, scans you from head to toe. Is this the right place? He keeps picking at his nails, trying to free the grime from under them.

Once you realize he’s baffled, you’re merciful enough to start the small talk. It’s awkward and stilted - his fault, his answers halting and quick. You give him grace, sip on your drink. Your laughs never quite reach your eyes, but you scoot closer to him on the couch anyway.

“Why are you really here, Billy?” Your hand settles on his thigh and curls inward.

It’s not how he wanted this to go, but he doesn’t stop you from sliding your hand higher while he chokes on his words. You’ve got his belt undone by the time he manages to string a sentence together.

“I've been a right cunt to you.”

“Mhm.”

“You don't got to put up with it, yeah?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Got your whole life right ahead of you.”

“Uh-huh.”

Fucking Christ, could you give him more than a noise? A few moments ago you’d held a conversation with him.

His irritation is snuffed out by your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock and sucking hard. Your hand pumps his shaft, twisting your wrist on the way back up. Good God, you learn quick.

Butcher could spoil you rotten if he had the time. He could get you whatever you wanted - if ever you wanted for anything. He cups a hand over the back of your head, encouraging, not guiding.

You’re methodical. You let your hand work what your mouth won’t reach, fondle his balls with the other one. It’s clinical. You’ve committed the moves to memory, when to swirl your tongue, hollow your cheeks, when to moan around him, when to look up at him with those tears straining at your waterline.

He finishes quick, his chest heaving. You pass him his water while you reach for a tissue box. He drains it and nearly misses you spitting his cum into a tissue, wadding it up and tossing it into the bin.

“I haven’t got much time left,” he says, breathless.

Your brow creases. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your lips swollen. “What?”

“I’ve got this –” he gestures nebulously with a hand, like he’s trying to pluck the right words out of the air. “– thing. In my brain, see? Inoperable. So, if I up and vanish on you, it ain’t personal.”

You stay silent, stone faced. He wishes you’d say something. Even one of the irritating platitudes people like to parrot would be better than this. Your eyes harden. You purse your lips, breathe deep, and stand from the couch.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Billy. It was good to see you.”

Butcher’s still trying to catch his breath. He tucks himself back into his pants, a mess he’ll clean up later, and rises unsteadily. You don’t reach out to help. He makes another nebulous gesture towards you, his hand quivering.

“You want me to..?”

“Nah. Don’t strain yourself.”

He stuffs himself back into his coat, watching your eyes linger - maybe realizing for the first time how much slighter he’s looking. Butcher pats your cheek gently as he passes by.

You don’t ask to see him again. For your sake, he hopes this is the last time.

[jedi-enthusiast]

I'm gonna be so fr, the idea that "Anakin had no choice but to do what he did because the Jedi didn't allow marriage" is just...so fucking ridiculous

Anakin did have a choice.

Marry Padme or be a Jedi.

Simple.

If he decided to marry Padme and leave the Jedi, which would've been best for him imo, then there would've been zero repercussions.

We see multiple times that the Jedi let people leave for any reason, at any time---they don't try to make them stay, they don't ban them from coming back to the Temple or seeing their friends, and they don't even hold any ill will towards them! And Anakin would've been marrying a Senator and former Queen of Naboo, he would've had his every need and want met!

Anakin would've lived a very happy and cushy life, he just...wouldn't have been a Jedi.

If Anakin decided to leave Padme and stay with the Jedi, which I think he wouldn't have liked but whatever, then---again---there would've been pretty much no repercussions.

Would he be sad that he wasn't with Padme? Sure, Anakin doesn't really seem like the type to be able to forgo a relationship imo, but he would've gotten on just fine without her. He lived happily as a Jedi for 10 years, I can't imagine that it'd be all that difficult for him to do again---especially with the support of his fellow Jedi.

He, again, would've been happy, he just...wouldn't have married Padme.

The issue in all of this, the reason that the OT exists at all and the Empire rose to power, is that Anakin refused to choose. He was selfish and wanted to have everything, so he just lied to everyone and ignored the consequences of his actions until he couldn't anymore---at which point he murdered the Jedi, enslaved the clones, destroyed democracy, and pulled the galaxy into a dark age.

Anakin had a choice...he just chose to be selfish every chance he got---and no one is to blame for that except for him.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

hey so i saw the despicable me 4 trailer and i have a very specific beef with it that's making me insane

so, like, disclaimer, i havent watched any of the minion cinematic universe movies since despicable me 2 came out... holy fuck eleven years ago, jesus christ. but anyway i'm probably gonna get minute details wrong but like hold with me a second

so idr when despicable me 2 takes place in regards to the first film. from what i remember, agnes was having issues with not having a conventional nuclear family for mother's day so this implies it's the first mother's day that the girls have had in gru's household. i'm pretty sure that the first movie took place during the summer-ish, and iirc the second movie is also summer (fitting with my "roughly may" estimate) so we'll say like eight-ish months have passed since the first film. no big deal, right?

so then at the end of the film gru and kristen wiig get married but the timecard states that it's "147 dates later." i doubt they went on a date every single day leading up to the wedding but if we're assuming the date list also covers the engagement and wedding prep period, that's at the VERY VERY least one-hundred and forty-seven days after the events of the film. so with the timeskip at the beginning, that puts us at well over a year since the first film, thirteen months minimum

okay so the third film from my research doesn't state how long it takes after the wedding. so again, let's be generous and say that it's not too long after. i'm pretty sure the film itself takes place over a couple of days so we'll ignore its place in the continuity for now. that brings us to movie number four, which just got a trailer and just revealed a new player in the game

so gru and kristen wiig have a new biological child. this kid is old enough to move and emote, which puts him at 7-12 months old if he's able to crawl. let's again be generous and say it's seven months. assuming that human reproduction works the same as it does in our universe, and again being generous as hell and assuming that lucy may have been pregnant through the third film or right after the wedding, we have to add nine months to all this. so from the first film, we have ~8 month timeskip, then a 147-day minimum timeskip, then let's say 16 months to get to the baby being able to crawl. again, this is absolute bare minimum, and we still get to a conclusion of it's been roughly 29 months since the first film, or 2.5 years.

so okay. two-and-a-half years since the first film.

so then why the everloving fuck are the girls the same. fucking. AGE??

how have these motherfuckers not aged a fucking day??? they haven't grown a goddamn inch. it should have been, again, 2.5 years minimum, more likely 3-4 years if we're being realistic.

and to double check my work, i went on the despicable me wiki and found that they also put movie 4 at a three-year timeskip from the first movie, specifically putting margo at 10 in the first movie and 13 in the fourth, edith at 8-11, and agnes at 5-8; their main source is margo being stated to be 12 in the third movie, and her sisters' relative ages being provided by tweet, so even then this is, again, bare minimum on timeskip. and not only have these motherfuckers not changed style one fucking time, but they haven't changed height, weight, anything. agnes has hit eight years old and is the same height as the tiny-ass fucking minions. edith's hat still fits. margo should be in high school and she looks the same as she did three goddamn years ago

what kind of motherfucking witchcraft is the gru family using to keep themselves young??? they said gru stopped being evil but are we sure there isn't some vampire blood rituals happening in the minion basement

make them a new character model. please god

[attineilde]

why neil josten is actually Y/N:

erm I accidentally wrote a few cringy wattpad paragraphs so uh-

he has big blue orbs

involved with the mafia ("what is this, mom?" I asked, trembling. the famous mafia gang leader, harry styles was sitting in my living room!)

gets noticed by a famous person KEVIN DAY (my best friend dragged me to this concert. something called... one direction? I'm not really sure, I'm not like other girls, always obsessing over boy bands. I like to spend time reading instead. so in the concert, I decided to read my favourite book and just ignore everything entirely. then, this amazingly buff, tall, dark, and handsome man smiled at me, showing off his dimples. "come on, darling, what's your name?")

mommy AND daddy issues ("I-I-I-I-I never had parents," Y/N told her cold alpha mafia boss.)

has trauma from a young age (when I was only 10 weeks old, my mother, my father, my grandmother, my grandfather, my sister, my brother, and my goldfish died in a plane crash)

he becomes more badass throughout the series ("Wow, Y/N, you're becoming more and more sigma," Jungkook the mafia boss said. "You were so skinny and fragile and petite, I never would've thought you were capable of being a muderer. You're such a baddie!" He exclaims with admiration.)

super multi-talented (even though I have a permanent stutter in my voice, I'm still a great singer. but I'm a really insecure petite girl, so I shyly sang a few notes to JungKook. "I-i-i-i-is it gwenchana oppa?" "Oh, yes, Y/N honey, you're voice is jinja good!")

has multiple men checking him out/appreciating his looks (andrew, nicky, and I bet kevin has too)

if you read all my little paragraphs I'm really proud of you! I hope you're gwenchana (this is all satire pls dont judge)

[weird-obsessed-girl]

Bagginshield Fic Rec

I can’t believe I’ve had such an intense revival into The Hobbit Fandom after being obsessed with the movies when they came out just over 10 years ago now. There’s just some fandoms that have consistently amazing fanfics that are written beautifully and with such interesting concepts.

Some of these are a bit silly and cracky but i think that’s the appeal of The Hobbit, it’s a bit more cheerful than LOTR (vehemently ignoring Battle of the Five Armies)

So below is a list of fics I have loved reading organised by word count smallest to largest.

If you have any fics that you’ve read and don’t see here please share them with me! P.S, if you need more fics to read after these please check out the author’s other works.

Fanfiction Title - Author

Tags, description of fic | word count | rating

And Down the Road I Goes - pibroch (littleblackdog)

Kid!fic, mpreg, humour, dwobbits, beard problems | 1.3k | T

All That Glitters - BeautifulFiction

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, Dwarven culture and customs, Dwarven jewellery | 1.5k | G

Truth - alkjira

Body image issues, post-BAFTA, everybody lives, Dwarven beauty standards | 1.9k | T

Brethren, Braids and a Bothersome Burglar - Frankensteins_Monster

Unintentional Dwarven courting, and then intentional after communication is cleared up, Hair Braiding | 2.3k | T

There is A Child - smileybagel

Foresight, canonical character death, Thorin POV | 2.7k | T

Of the King and Consort’s Portraits - undomiel (dolcewrites)

Cultural differences, painting portraits, Erebor and Shire Parallels, domestic fluff | 3.4K | T

Shorn - Avelera

Mourning ritual, Dwarf culture and customs, misunderstandings, pre-slash, Long-beards mentioned! 3.5k | G

A Chance to Make It Right - smileybagel

Thorin is offered a second chance, magical dreams of future children, second part to “There is A Child” | 3.6k | G

The Proper Way To Call You Mine - Fantasyinallforms

Hair braiding, post-BAFTA, misunderstandings, Fili and Kili meddling, getting together, jealous Thorin | 3.6k | T

And in our love u see golden things - Seungshi03

Goldsickness as a mental health condition, domestic fluff, consort Bilbo | 3.7k | G

Riddles in the Dark Brought into the Light - Lucigoo89

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, PTSD, loooove fics where the trauma from the journey is included, background Dwalin/Nori | 3.8k | G

In More than the Wisdom of Years - jezebel_rising

Dis POV, everyone lives, reunions, Dis and Bilbo friendship | 4.2k | Not rated

A Dwarven Beauty - bevel_bee

Dwarven beauty standards, Bilbo is considered very attractive, but he’s very oblivious to the compliments, post-BAFTA | 4.6k | G

The Seven Gifts - snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)

Dwarf and hobbit courting, awkwardness, Bilbo remains in Erebor, miscommunication | 5.1k | G

The Stone’s Gift - SilverSkiesAtMidnight

Established relationship, consort Bilbo, “the Dwarven equivalent of cabbage patch hobbits”, dwarves made from literal stone, unplanned pregnancy | 5.2k | T

One Remedy for Gold Sickness (or maybe two) - randi2204

Bilbo uses an ancient hobbit remedy for greedy folks, flabbergasted dwarves | 5.8k | T * need to have an Ao3 account

Better an ugly face than an ugly mind - unpeumacabre

Dwarven beauty standards (and hobbit ones), Thorin POV | 6.1k | T

A Minor Problem - fideliant

Smut, thorin finds out Bilbo’s age, obliviousness to different species’ life expectancies | 6.4K | E

Bruises on the Heart - thehufflepuffhobbit

5 + 1 times, soulmate au, Thorin POV, bruises, sharing a bed, during the journey | 7.8k | E

Clue-finder - TheGrayKnight

Post-BAFTA, Dwarven courting, cultural differences | 9k | G

Queen Under the Mountain - benny_Laur

Character death (not really), Dis POV, I LOVE DIS, Requited love, Kili definitely should not be in charge of communications | 11k | Not rating

Call You Home - northerntrash

Hobbit culture, including hidden names (I like the hobbit side as it’s a popular trope that dwarves have hidden names), Thorin’s puppy-eyes, the company | 11.9K | Not rated

Planting a Hobbit - northerntrash

Everyone lives, post-BAFTA, homesickness, domestic fluff, Thorin builds Bilbo a garden trope! 13k | Not rated

Forget-Me-Not - kerkusa, LordOfTheRazzles

Established relationship, post-BAFTA, healing Thorin causes temporary amnesia, Dwarf and Hobbit courting (again) | 14k | G

Defying Death (or at least the ones in charge) - Lucigoo89

I have yet to read this yet but it looks very promising! Bilbo has died and now it’s time for him to smuggle himself into Mahalia Halls to see his love again | 15.1k | T

Ere Break of Day - alexaprilgarden

During the journey, falling in love, Dwarven Ones, soulmates, everyone lives, angst | 15.6k | E

The Different Shades of Bilbo’s Love - SunnyRose

Kid Bilbo wants to be friends with Thorin, consenting adult romance later on, friends to lovers, flower language, Belladonna Took! 17.5k | G

I have loved you and you have not known it - KaavyaWriting

Miscommunication, the company come up with a way of making friends with a hobbit that is inaccurate, jealous Thorin, during the journey | 17.7k | G

You Got Me - drunkonwriting

Company-centric, dwarf culture, fluff, during the journey, friendship fic | 18.9k | G

Gardening - The Feels Whale (miscellea)

Bilbo returns to Shire, Kid!fic, cabbage patch hobbits, Bilbo’s under the impression Thorin died (he’s wrong) | 19.7k | T

My Princess, My Love, Marry Me! - mordelle

Alt universe, Princess Thorin visits the Shire, pinning Bilbo, Thorin is considered ugly by Dwarven beauty standards, smut | 36.3k | E

[zivazivc]

Did Les ever dated in the past? Also is he with anyone recently?

Les quit school really early, like 10-years-old early, and he started working soon after, so he didn't really have friends his age. That kinda puts a buffer on a teenager's social and love life. Though there was something that happened at a house party once, that was, uh... a bad experience, and it left him with a lot of issues. Also, partially because of this, he's not really someone who acts on his crushes. So he never dated before.

But at one point the band spent a few months in the same location (dunno the reason yet, but maybe they weren't getting enough gigs and they had to take up some part time jobs for a while), and Les developed a crush on a bartender at a nearby club.

She's the only OC of mine who's visually a bigger weirdo than Les, and he definitely saw a little bit of himself in her, and hoping for someone with some shared life experience, it's what initially attracted him toward her and vice versa.

So they had a thing going on for a short time. It never developed into anything serious because sadly they are very alike, which means they are BOTH morons who are shy about making the first move. And after a while they came to the agreement that they were better as just friends.

Floyd with his persistent crush was not happy about the possible romance at first, but he ended up being happy for Les, and he finally decided to give his hopeless longing a rest, since the only good it was doing was growing a rift between his and Les's friendship.

Funny enough it was Floyd backing down which allowed the two to grow closer. Les lowered his guard since he no longer had to overthink if Floyd would interpret anything he did or said as some kind of flirting or act of love, and he no longer had to brace himself for any uncomfortable romancing coming from Floyd either.

They were already good friends since the start but they became much more casual with each other and began to understand each other on a deeper level as years passed. As Floyd got older and more mature, and became an equal with the rest of the bandmates, it was actually Les who fell for him, hard. He didn't really do anything about it though, but Floyd eventually realized this and you know he did something about it. Though Floyd's crush had gone from looking at Les as this cool experienced older guy when he was younger to now seeing him as a shy innocent teddy bear compared to his lewd self ksjhdkjs.

So technically they became each other's first proper all-encompassing relationship. And by that I mean that besides the lovey-dovey obvious stuff, they were also best friends and helped each other grow a lot. Also Floyd by the time they got together, already started a habit of hooking up with strangers at parties, so being with Les forced him to slow down and progress through a relationship slowly and at a healthy pace for someone his age (since you can't really get anywhere with Les without a lot of patience). And Floyd got Les to become comfortable with opening up and talking about his deep-rooted feelings. They talked about issues they faced, many of which were related to Les's childhood trauma, instead of him just ignoring or suppressing it all. (Floyd also opened up about his own family trauma with Les obviously, but he talked about it even before they got together.)

The relationship, especially at the start, could still be considered questionable from an outsider's perspective, but so was the band's lifestyle in general. They were good for each other during that period while they were growing up and figuring themselves and each other out, which is what matters I think.

It was honestly mainly Floyd's undiagnosed bipolar disorder that made the relationship suffer toward the end of Floyd's days in the band. It created a lot of trust issues between Floyd and Les, and also Floyd and everyone else, heck it even made Floyd distrust himself, since he and none else knew or understood what was happening with him. This led to a lot of misery and anger that he mostly ended up directing at Les, and it was what eventually made them break up and Floyd leave.

[cosmerelists]

How Cosmere Characters Would React to Having Roommates Who Leave Dirty Dishes in the Communal Sink

As requested by @angelofmusings :)

Per angelofmusings' request, Cosmere characters are in a dorm-type situation with a shared kitchen....and SOMEBODY keeps leaving dirty dishes in the sink! How will they respond?

1. Shallan

Let's just say you do NOT want to get into an "ignoring things" competition with college-age Shallan.

Shallan: [humming to herself as she sits at the kitchen table, drawing] Roommate: Uh, Shallan...? Is that....a good place to be drawing? Shallan: [Looks up. Behind her is a tower of dirty dishes higher than a human person, teetering ominously and casting a shadow across the table where she works] Shallan: Hmm? What do you mean?

2. Sarene

Uses weaponized incompetence until her roommates get their act together.

Roommate: Why are all of my bowls chipped? Sarene: I did your dishes for you since you don't have time! <3 Roommate: Y-You did a bad job! Sarene: Did I? Huh! I tried really hard to help since you seem to be way too busy to do any housework! Sarene: Anyway, I'll get back to doing your laundry! [prepares to dump an entire cup of bleach into the washing machine] Roommate: NOOOOO

3. Vin

Vin only has one solution. And that solution is MURDER. D-Dish murder, I mean.

Roommate: Um, why are all of my dishes in a garbage bag? Vin: Well, you left them in the sink for a week so I threw them away. Roommate: You can't throw away my dishes! Vin: It's either that or throw YOU away in a trash bag. Vin: But my boyfriend said murder wasn't the answer. Vin: Yet. Roommate: ... Roommate: I-I'll do the fucking dishes!

4. Elend

Elend convinces all of the roommates to vote on who does which chores.

Elend: ... Elend: ... Elend: I can't believe they voted for me to do ALL of the chores.

5. Renarin

Rather than confront the situation verbally, Renarin opts to leave anonymous notes when nobody is looking.

Roommate (reading): This one says, "The dishes have been in the sink for 2 days." Roommate: This one says, "The dishes have been in the sink for 3 days." Roommate: This one just says, "4 days." Roommate: This one just says "5." Roommate: ... Roommate: Why is this so ominous???

6. Steris

Ha ha! As if Steris didn't set up an extensive roommate contract and force everyone to sign!

Steris: The arbitrator will be here tomorrow at 4. Roommate: Arbitrator...? Why? Steris: To discuss the dishes issue, per Section 9c of the contract we all signed. Roommate: I ONLY LEFT THEM OVERNIGHT. Steris: 4:00pm. Be there!

7. Dalinar

Let's just say that the roommates of college-age Dalinar "Blackthorn" Kholin are not going to risk pissing him off.

Roommate 1: Dude! Don't just leave that in the sink! Roommate 2: My coffee mug? Why? Roommate: 1: Dalinar gets out of class soon! Roommate 2: So? Dalinar doesn't care about dishes. I've never seen him using any other than that one steak knife he carries around. Roommate 1: Yeah, the knife he used to STAB a guy in the LEG after which he KEPT EATING HIS BURGER Roommate 2: Whoa he did that??? Roommate 1: I'm just saying he seems like the type. Wash! Your! Dishes!

8. Marsh

Marsh just does all the dishes himself because he's the RESPONSIBLE one.

Marsh: (grumbling to himself while carefully washing the dishes) Stupid roommates out having fun with girlfriends, getting into trouble, doing stuff. Marsh: While I'm here doing what needs to actually be done... Marsh: ... Marsh: Makes me want to stab myself in the eyes sometimes.

9. Tress

Tress just does all the dishes herself because she is too nice to do otherwise.

Roommate: I can't TAKE it anymore! Tress: ??? Roommate: You're always making us dinner, you always do the dishes, you fixed the air conditioner last week even though that's not even your job! Roommate: Your power of friendship is TOO STRONG and I think I'm going to have to become a better person now! Tress: I'm happy for you! Roommate: YOU WOULD BE

10.Kaladin

At first, Kaladin performatively washes the biggest, heaviest dish he can find while everyone watches, hoping to inspire their better natures. But when that doesn't work...

Roommate: [Woken up suddenly as Kaladin drags them bodily out of bed at 5:00am] Roommate: What! What's going on??? Kaladin: [dragging him toward the kitchen] You are the biggest, meanest roommate I have and I'm going to MAKE you wash your dishes as an example to the others! Roommate: D-Does this make sense in a roommate situation?? Kaladin: I don't know what you mean. Kaladin [glowering at full power] Get. Washing.

[emmkitt]

stop calling mephone4 a child.

my credentials(/silly): mephone4’s biggest fan + someone who sees mephone as representative of myself. i am also an autistic adult. (relevant)

i went on an autistic tirade rambling about this in a discord server but i wanted to compile my reasoning and stuff here into a tumblr post because this is very important to me.

alright. lets start with the most commonly used argument.

calling mephone a child is ableist.

now i certainly agree that some children CAN act the way mephone does. however, i think it’s harmful when your ONLY argument as to why he is a child is ‘because he cant spell’ or ‘because he creates fantasy worlds in his brain as a means of escapism.’

I think the issue is, we are reducing these very real symptoms of mental disorders to ‘oh he’s just acting childish,’ instead of understanding them for what they are. autism and dyslexia are not cured the second you turn 18. it doesn’t work that way. giving in to the stereotype that only children can act this way… i dunno man. it really rubs me the wrong way.

i think it’d be better to view him as an adult with these symptoms because, well, VERY rarely do we ever get representation of an adult with mental disorders in media. at least not in a way that’s not villainizing them or mocking/infantilizing them. (sidebar, mephone IS NOT THE VILLAIN. he did bad things, yes, and should be held accountable for it, but he is NOT. THE VILLAIN. he is an abuse victim, and his way of acting is actually very good representation of the way abuse victims may go on to mimic actions of their abuser.) cobs (mephone’s abuser btw) LITERALLY infantilizes mephone IN CANON. IN THE SHOW. WHY ARE YOU LISTENING TO COBS. WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE COBS.

bro didnt go to school

i didnt know how to title this section. basically, people reducing him to a child because he doesn’t know adult things are MISSING THE POINT.

HE WAS RAISED BY COBS.

do you think cobs had ANY interest in teaching him ANYTHING about the real world? about how to be an adult? about how to ride a bike or pay taxes? NO. dude popped into existence knowing nothing except what Cobs WANTED him to know. he was meant to just work for Cobs and do tasks all the time and that was IT. OF COURSE his knowledge is going to be limited to what Cobs taught him. that DOES NOT make someone a child. GO REWATCH THE SHOWWWW.

suspend your disbelief for once in your life oh my god

i dont understand how people are able to suspend disbelief for LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE in fiction. such as murder/death, supernatural creatures, the universe itself as a whole, etc. but when it comes to age, the real world standards MUST be applied, no exception. Like since Mephone was canonically created 14 years ago in-universe that means he is 14 years old. we are completely ignoring the fact he is a fictional talking sentient phone robot for a minute.

and adding in the ‘he acts like a child’ argument for a second… season 1. what 1 year old do you know that can walk and talk and create an entire game show?? he has practically acted the EXACT SAME WAY his entire existence, therefore that argument falls completely flat.

it would be DIFFERENT if in-universe they had established rules, where this age means this and that age means that, but the ii universe DOES NOT HAVE THAT. meaning people are free to interpret age however they want. it would ALSO be different if mephone was canonically stated to be a child (we’re getting to that) OR portrayed to be childcoded. which…. he isn’t.

okay so by these rules all of the contestants are younger than mephone.

the agreement amongst child mephone believers seems to be ‘creation date = birth date = real age’. so bot is like 3 years old. the unvitationals are like 2. all the contestants are somewhere between like 4-14. but wait- some season 1 contestants ACT older or younger than the others? no. no theyre ALL 13-14 only. no exceptions. every newbie in season 3 is like 4-5. every newbie in season 2 is like 10. makes perfect sense.

do you understand how ridiculous that is. WE CANNOT , i repeat, CANNOT APPLY REAL WORLD STANDARDS TO A FICTIONAL UNIVERSE. oh my god. they are holograms. they are robots. they are in a weird plane floating in the vastness of space that has a picnic table that can generate food, and the ability to revive dead people, and ghosts and talking corn and. and all of THAT is fine. but god forbid someone interpret the talking phone as an adult. I DONT GET IT.

b-b-but cobs called mephone a child…

once again, common arguement. i strike thee down with a ‘MANIPULATION TACTIC.’ i feel like this has been covered enough and better in other mephone rambles so im not gonna get into it.

personal section

this is more of a personal experiences and opinions thing. less based on fact. agree or disagree idc this is just my experience.

once again, like i stated in the beginning, i see myself in mephone. a lot. I am an adult. i have autism. i have the tendency to act ‘childish’ sometimes due to my condition. im bad at being an adult. i struggle with tasks that are probably easy for other adults. i’m not a child. it’s very disheartening- i WANT to be viewed as an independent functioning adult, despite my condition, but when even a FICTIONAL PHONE who acts just like i do gets reduced to ‘child’ because he acts similarly to someone who’s mentally ill and has been abused. it HURTS MAN. he’s just trying his best:[

anyways conclusion

idc. you can headcanon whatever you want cause technically nothing is confirmed, but this is more food for thought for the people immediately jumping on the ‘child mephone’ bandwagon.

unless someone is canonically stated to be a child or is very heavily child coded, i don’t think its wrong for people to interpret them as an adult.

if sometime in the future mephone is canonically confirmed to be a child like. in universe. ill probably be disappointed.

i am a firm believer in age doesnt work the same way in ii as it does in our universe. theyre all fictional creatures. they were not created by conventional means. you dont have to apply our world’s standards to it.

anyways uhh. ramble over lol

[jaegerisim]

Vent post y'all are gonna hate me for.

I viscerally hate how the Duffers treat most of their non white or queer characters and I hate even more viscerally, how y'all big byler blogs in your circle jerk of other 5 big byler blogs casually like to ignore many red flags the show has.

Y'all like to say: "tHe DufFeRs ArE gReAt WrIteRs" and it's like girl, who are you lying to??? They aren't top shit writers at all. The Duffers are pretty mid imo. Yeah, they run a good show that's fun to watch and theorize abt , but that doesn't mean they're good writers cuz they're not.

1. they completely side lined Will during s3 for the sake of their straight romances: lumax, jancy, mlvn, duzie and partly stobin (even if stobin wasn't endgame, thankfully, Steve's intentions were clearly wanting to date Robin and they gave it a lot of screen time). Will was sidelined bc he didn't fit the straight romance plotline bc they planned to make him gay or whatever. Now in s4 Will and his feelings have been used as mlvn toilet paper. Yes, we like to say this is build up for byler but canonically, Will's feelings have been used to clean the shit mlvn leaves behind.

2. Billy was sympathized a lot during the last 2 seasons. They gave him the sad backstoryTM in order for ppl to feel sorry for him. Billy's backstory is literally Jonathan's but whatever.

3. El's anger issues are constantly girlboss-ified. They down play her bullying situation and literally just use it for El to be a ''girlboss" without realizing how triggering that is. As someone who has lived bullying, seeing it be ignored by canon and fanon is super sad. The whole Rink-O' Mania experience must have been so traumatizing for her yet, everyone absolutely forgets abt it 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. Robin, Erica and Argyle are stereotypical characters. Robin is the quirky lesbian with social anxiety, Erica is the badass black woman and Argyle is the Latino stoner that sells weed to white kids and works as a pizza delivery guy.

5. Altho Argyle and Eddie both do drugs, (Eddie actually sells K-12 to a minor and nobody batted an eye. He has a huge fan base). Eddie is held in a pedestal bc "poor thing 🥺 he lives in a trailer with his uncle 🥺". Tell me a single fact you know abt Argyle that isn't "he smokes weed", "he is Jonathan's only friend", "drives a van" and "he works at a pizzeria". Exactly, Eddie is given a useless backstory and Argyle isn't.

6. Dustin stopped being important to the plot sometime around s2 and s3. He is only there to curse and be mildly funny. My guy needs to hangout with ppl his age cuz he only hangs out with seniors.

7. El needs to stop having so much "I'M THAT BITCH" screentime like I need in s5 for El's arc to not just be her becoming more powerful and falling in love with Mike. I need the Duffers to explore her trauma and problems.

8. Angela should have been run over by the van.

9. Patrick should have been given a backstory that isn't the basic "strict black parents that hit their kids cuz they are a disgrace". Patrick's backstory is actually racist af, fight w the wall.

10. As Lex already said, they didn't trigger tag the ep where Jason and his friends assault Lucas and Erica. Like wtf? Why was that necessary? Why did I have to see a black boy being held at gunpoint by some white guy?? Was it relevant to the plot?? I don't think so. And then I've got to see ppl online be like "Jason wasn't that bad. He was just mourning" like bitch you can stfu. This is what happens when you make the racist assholes conventionally attractive.

Also the fact that Lucas's arc is fulfilled by him fist-fighting Jason and "embracing his weirdness" aka accepting he is black. His arc was not fulfilled at all cuz that ending spoke so loud to me. It showed how little empathy ppl have towards the struggles poc ppl living in the Midwest have. Y'all circle jerks can only see racism when it's super obvious.

Furthermore, parents complained when ST showed "an excessive amount of smoking" yet nobody batted an eye when Billy tried to run over Lucas, when Erica (an 11 y.o ffs) was chased by white kids or when Lucas was held at gunpoint by Jason.

All of this happened while they focused on Max's guilt and mourning that, yeah, are important but certainly not less important than racism!!!

11. In s3, they gave us that whole Nancy vs The Bigots arc that was honestly just triggering and useless. It didn't help Nancy's character at all, quite the opposite it put unnecessary angst.

12. Lonnie being presented as an abuser just for him to never be spoken of again. Can we please get to explore the trauma he left the Byers's with?

13. The fact that both queer relationships are considered "sloppy seconds" is extremely sad. Both Vickie and Mike are rebounding from their failed relationship with Robin and Will. These 2 ships have caused more commotion than Jancy and Jopper together! (These last ships are technically sloppy seconds too but everybody forgets that. Shocker!!)

14. Last but not least, ppl blame Argyle for being the one to get Jonathan into smoking weed as if Jonathan probably wasn't the one looking for it. Let me tell you, that you only find weed if you look for it.

[welcometololaland]

thank you @suseagull04 @whatsintheboxmh @lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @carlossreaders @ironheartwriter for the tags! here's some upcoming chapter 10 from Never Too Late:

“Are you of age?” Gabriel asks sharply, drawing everyone’s attention. A hot flush races across TK’s skin before he realises the question isn’t directed at him. He’s holding a mineral water, so it makes sense, but the authoritative tone to Carlos’ father’s voice makes him panic on instinct. “Where’s your identification?”

“Papa!” Valentina hisses. “You can’t ask that! It’s a wedding!”

Gabriel frowns. “I can’t have underage drinking at an event I’m paying for, mija.”

“Gabriel, you’re not on duty,” Andrea hushes, appearing at her husband’s side and patting his arm gently. “Why are you interrogating people?”

“Carlos was in my seat.”

Carlos makes a noise of protest, but eyes his father fondly. “And where am I supposed to sit?”

“I think Gabriel is right,” Tía Lucy interjects imperiously, ignoring the fact that she’s the one taking up the seat which would allow everyone to sit in their proper places. “It would be a terrible look for a Major to be condoning underage drinking.”

“Thank you, Lucy.”

Andrea mutters something under her breath as she passes by the back of TK’s chair. It sounds oddly like, "Now you agree."

“Papa, let him have the drink,” Maria sighs, speaking as if Elijah simply isn’t there. “You can cut him off later.”

“It doesn’t solve the seating issue—”

“Tía Lucy, I think you’re supposed to be on table four—”

“Oh, am I?” Tía Lucy asks sweetly. “I got so tired of standing up. Eli, you won’t mind switching with me?”

TK can’t quite tell if it’s supposed to be an uninvited nickname or if she has genuinely forgotten Elijah’s name. In any case, he sees Valentina’s expression darken and Carlos’ lips twitch in the corners. Gabriel hums, as if in wordless agreement.

open tag and loving nudges below

@strandnreyes @rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @heartstringsduet

@emsprovisions @thisbuildinghasfeelings @nancys-braids @captain-gillian @alrightbuckaroo

@lightningboltreader @eclectic-sassycoweyes @she-walked-away @chicgeekgirl89

@tellmegoodbye @theghostofashton @basilsunrise @carlos-tk @sapphic--kiwi

@goodways @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @birdclowns @never-blooms @corsage

@decafdino @ladytessa74 @three-drink-amy @butchreyes @honeybee-taskforce

@fitzherbertssmolder @doublel27 @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @nisbanisba @kiwichaeng

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage November 2024 Issue ft. Miyazawa Yu Interview (translation below)

Publication: October 10, 2024 (between episode 32-33)

A Cleaner Style

The 3rd Lap is a chaotic development, where the intentions of various people will blend together. Among them, Sakito Homura is attracting the most attention.

Sakito lost both of his parents at an early age and had no one to rely on. When he was around 10 years old, he encountered Byun Diesel, also known as Byundi, and set off to space, where he lived a dangerous life as a cleaner. Although Sakito initially said that he had "abandoned Earth," ever since he bonded with Taiya Hando and the others, he now fights to protect Earth from the Hashiriyans.

Sakito has changed through these new encounters, and it's because of them that he has friends that he can rely on, but he can't ignore Genba Bureki, who's walking his own path of loneliness out of a desire for revenge against Disrace, the one who seized his home planet of Bureki. Sakito, who works on his own as a cleaner, uses this position to approach Genba and attempts to pull him back to the Boonboomgers, sometimes by expressing his own feelings to him.

As a result of Sakito's actions and his interaction with Nijino Akira of Ressha Sentai ToQger, Genba's stubborn feelings begin to change.

The day when the six Boonboomger members once again fight side by side isn't that far off. _

-The distance between me and Byundi isn't the same as close friends or brothers-

"After passing through the 2nd Lap, Sakito's become a familiar face, and we think his personality and position, which is independent of the other Boonboomgers, make him a unique character in the show."

Miyazawa: Even before filming, I wanted Sakito's character to find a balance between those three - the calm Taiya and Ishiro and the mysterious Genba, and those cheerful two - Mira and Jou, so that he could go either way. So, I tried to make him two faced, or rather, it was important to give him the calmness that comes from having nearly 20 years of experience working as a cleaner in space, and the childishness that comes from having left Earth at the age of 10 to live freely. I still have trouble raising and lowering the excitement between those two roles, but I'm trying to make that part of my performance bring out Sakito's best qualities.

"We were impressed by how child like you sometimes act, but that was a conscious part of your performance, right?"

Miyazawa: That's right. He knows about space, so he acts as a commentator, but he also screws around, so it's convenient for the comedic parts (laughs). Lately, I've been trying to express that kind of growth in him, like how he's looking at things more calmly now that a few months have passed, compared to how excited he used to be when he first came back to Earth.

"In the 3rd Lap, Sakito has more scenes with Genba, who had left Boonboomger."

Miyazawa: Sakito has Byundi by his side, but I think that because of his past experiences, he's lived his life without relying on others, believing that he has to do things on his own. In the fight with Taiya in episode 18, he also spoke about his disillusionment and resignation toward adults. This overlaps with the current Genba, who's outlook has become narrow due to wanting to take his planet back. Sakito himself felt that he could grow with the help of the Boonboomgers, and in his own clumsy way, I'm sure he wants to pass on his experiences to Genba, even if only alittle, and do something about it. For Sakito's reaction to hearing Genba say, "This is my only shot," after sumo wrestling with him in episode 32, I wanted to express the conflict of, "Is it really impossible to persuade him any further?," so I consulted Director Nakazawa-san about it.

"The Suit Actor for BoonViolet after the Change is Tsutamune Masato-san."

Miyazawa: Not only do I talk alot with Tsuta-san, but we also copy each other's performances. We've never had the opportunity to perform our roles together before, so I was abit worried, thinking, "Is this gonna be okay?," but the fact that we were able to build a good relationship right from the start was good for creating Sakito's character.

"Something indispensable for Sakito is the existence of his partner Byundi."

Miyazawa: Byundi's his partner who's been through some difficult times together, Sakito can talk to him about anything, and if something happens to the other, they immediately rush over. Figuratively speaking, he's like an older brother to Sakito, so while I'm conscious of their brotherly relationship in my performance, in terms of the distance between them, he's not his brother, best friend, or even a parent. Having a relationship like these two where you're together all year round is unusual, isn't it? That's why I think Byundi's existence is unique and special.

"What kind of conversations do you have on set with Takada Masashi-san, Byundi's Suit Actor, when it comes to expressing the relationship of those two?"

Miyazawa: I wanted to realistically portray the perfect harmony between Sakito and Byundi, or rather, what it's probably been like since Sakito was little, so I've talked about alot of things with Takada-san. Like, when he sat on Byundi's tire as a chair in episode 24, or when he watched the battle between the Aori Family and the Hashiriyans on Byundi's legs in episode 29. For improv like that, I consult with Takada-san, who tells me places where I can hop on with, "This is a good spot," but also adds more ideas.

"What's your impression of Hanae Natsuki-san, the voice behind Byundi?"

Miyazawa: I've watched Hanae-san do post recording multiple times, and have also had the chance to talk with him. Hanae-san always manages to skillfully "train" for my performances, and he improvises quite abit. In the baseball scene in episode 23, when he was cheering for Sakito, he kept saying, "Sa-ki-to!" (laughs). During recording of the scenes between BoonViolet and Byundi, when I record first, I'll think about how I'll interact with him, and when Hanae-san records, I think about how I'll respond while watching Tsuta-san's movements. I thought a relationship like this was wonderful. It's not often that you get the chance to work so closely with tokusatsu professionals like Tsuta-san and Takada-san, and Voice Actor professionals like Hanae-san, so I've been taking in alot from them through this experience.

-A decisive battle with the Cannonborg, I also carried Tsutamune-san's feelings on my shoulders-

"In episode 32, the most recently aired episode, from "Ressha Sentai ToQger," Suzuki Right's Shison Jun-san and Nijino Akira's Nagahama Shin-san made guest appearances."

Miyazawa: I worked with Nagahama-san during filming and Shison-san during post recording, and while both of them are senior Sentai members, above all else, they're senior actors, so it was a great honor for me to costar with them. Still, I also thought, "I absolutely can't lose." Sakito himself isn't the type to get carried away just because some seniors came along. Both of them took on all of our acting, so I went into it with the feeling of "I'm gonna give it my all."

"In a positive way, there was a sense of rivalry."

Miyazawa: Yeah, it was one sided though (laughs). I did feel alittle frustrated because I could see the difference in our abilities, but I also received tons of positive encouragement.

"So far, which episodes are you particularly attached to?"

Miyazawa: It would have to be episode 25, that was one of the turning points for Sakito, and it left a deep impression on me. How would I show the change in Sakito, who used to say, "I'll give this planet to Hashiriyans," through his involvement with Boonboomgers? While doing it I was thinking, "If Sakito and BoonViolet can't liven things up, then this episode will be ruined." Just from the script, I was especially excited about him using the weapons everyone gave him in the battle against Cannonborg, and I thought Tsuta-san would definitely do some cool action, so I went to observe filming to get a better idea of what to expect during post recording. On set, Tsuta-san was speaking BoonViolet's lines, and I could really feel his emotions through them. In order to convey Sakito's feelings for the Boonboomgers and Earth, I tried to use my voice with as much passion, if not more, as Tsuta-san's actions, and for the first time ever, I was sweating during post recording. I also wanted to show Sakito's innocence in the fireworks scene at the end.

"It truly was a scene that showed Sakito's gap."

Miyazawa: I was like, "You were so cool defending Earth, and now you're all hyped up about some festival!" (laughs). Still, I believe that the build up of those efforts has led to his current development.

"Are there any situations you'd like to play as Sakito in the future?"

Miyazawa: I personally feel like, "Please let me do whatever I want!," but if I were to list them all in detail, there'd be no end in sight……However, I wonder what'll happen to Sakito at the end of Boonboomger's story. Sakito's current goal is crushing the Hashiriyans, but unlike the other Boonboomgers, he doesn't have a goal like competing in the Big Bang Grand Prix. I also wonder what kind of answer he'll give on whether he chooses to stay on Earth, to which he's grown increasingly attached to, or to return to space where his cleaner acquaintances are. I'm really looking forward to the moment when I find out how Sakito feels after achieving his goal. _

Q: What's your favorite manga/anime?

I've watched a variety of things, like "Kimetsu no Yaiba," which features Hanae-san in it, but if there's one work that I really like, it's "ONE PIECE." I've read the original story in Shonen Jump magazines, and have participated in the card game tournaments (laughs). For characters, I like Eustass Kid and Charlotte Katakuri so much, that I put them in my card game deck. Kid is cool in that he's a madman with a surprisingly passionate side, and Katakuri, despite being a villain, is very compassionate…….Perhaps it's because they both have something in common with Sakito that I'm even more fond of them. (-Miyazawa) _

Transcript of a Cleaner

Sakito, along with Byundi, have been cleaning up trouble as the best cleaners in the universe. Here's a glimpse of how they've been taking care of things on Earth.

Delivery of the Legendary Sword Client: The Hashiriyan Family His delivery to Cannonborg was his first job on Earth. Later, in order to pay off his debt to the Boonboomgrs and allow Byundi to meet Bundorio, he disposed of Sword Grumer, the legendary sword that had mutated.

Disposal of the Boonboomgers Client: Cannonborg He was left with no other choice but to take on the job after his precious trading cards was stolen. However, he withdrew from the request because Cannonborg involved Kakeru, his old friend and the owner of the card, and his family.

Fighting with the Boonboomgers Client: Taiya Hando Out of anger for putting Kakeru in harm's way, he accepted this request from Taiya immediately after breaking things off with the Hashiriyans. Since then, he's rushed to join the Boonboomgers in their battles against the Hashiriyans.

Disposal of Cannonborg Client: The Boonboomgers The only way to prevent Jackie Hoi Hoi's reactivation, is for Sakito, the fastest of the six, to stop Cannonborg. Sakito hunted down Cannonborg with the weapons entrusted to him by his friends.

Support for the Spy Job Client: Ishiro Meita At the request of the ISA, Ishiro was trying to retrieve an item from the Aori Family. Sakito took things upon himself to help out, and together with Byundi, they attracted the attention of the Aori Family and assisted him in his work.

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) l ch. VI

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 6,192

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), kook gets pissed, jk mother is asdhjf!, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, manipulative parent, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc, mild sexting, sexual content

Sexual warnings: bl*wj*b, jk c*mes on her t*tt*es, d*rty talk

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: um so this got over 6k which i know isn't amazing but for me its big deal okay?! haha! Anyway Part VI here we go! No flashbacks in this chapter because of ch.V buuut, I have a little gift for you and me. Hope you enjoy!! 💞 also pls vote if youd be so kind 😙

<< ch. V ༓ ch. VII >> | series masterlist

Living in the country for over thirty years, the Jeons were known to be excruciatingly slow and cautious drivers. The town was tiny, roads were narrow, and no one was ever in a rush to get anywhere apart from maybe the farmers market.

Once when Jungkook first got his license he took one hand off the steering wheel and his mother almost had a heart attack, saying it was “reckless of him to put them in danger”. It was from that moment forward that Jungkook always made sure to drive at 10 and 2 or 9 and 3 when his mother was in the car. His father on the other hand didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t go above 30 mph.

Jungkook was counting his lucky stars when he finally got his own car and the chance to move to the city where he could drive how he damn well pleased–responsibly of course. He had recently finished his Master’s studies and was offered a job as an economist in a major medical corporation. The only catch was that he’d have to relocate to Seoul which ended up being more than fine with him.

His parents moaned and groaned that he wasn’t sticking around but his mind was made up. He moved out of his parent’s tiny town one late June and headed to the city where life moved to a whole new beat.

Ten years later, Jungkook finds himself gripping the steering wheel with two sweaty hands again. Kudos to his parents who have been telling him which way to turn and how fast or slow to go for the past fifteen minutes. He honestly should have picked a brunch spot closer to home to avoid all the madness. Walking would have done them good.

“I’ll never get used to how you drive down here,” Mrs. Jeon grumbles from the back seat. “All these sharp turns and six lanes of traffic going 50-plus miles an hour. It’s a wonder you haven’t all gotten in an accident yet. It’s like I always say, the slower the better. You city folks just don’t get it.”

Jungkook peers in his rearview mirror before signaling to switch lanes. “We can’t afford to go too slow out here Mom. This is a highway and dropping down in speed will cause a safety hazard just as bad, if not worse. Environments are different out here than in the woods.”

As Jungkook merges to the right, Mr. Jeon watches the surrounding cars from the back seat window. “Ah son, son, son!” He hollers and reaches for the ceiling handle.

“What? What happened?” Jungkook asks with panic. He flickers his eyes to the mirror again to spot his father's distress.

Mr. Jeon slowly releases the handle and lets out a lengthy sigh. “It's okay now, we’re good. You did good son. You moved over with so little space I thought you were going to hit the car now behind us."

"I told you it's a mad house out here!" Mrs. Jeon adds, tone thick. Jungkook puts his eyes back on the road in front of him and does his best to ignore the irritation bubbling within him.

"I know what I'm doing," he says. "I've lived here for ten years so can you guys please trust me? And stop with the driving advice and yelling every time I do something."

"We're just trying to help Kookie."

"Well, you're not alright?" The snap in his voice has Jungkook's parents sulking back in their seats in silence. "I want us to get to the restaurant safely and I can't do that when you're both shouting at me! So please just let me do the driving. Thank you."

God, if one more person calls him Kookie in that condescending tone he's going to lose it! Kookie was his childhood nickname but for some reason, it stuck to him like glue until he was friggin' 22 years old. He absolutely hates it and the only person remotely allowed to call him by it is his wife because she makes anything sound like honey to his ears.

The next five minutes are nothing but awkward silence and the sound of tires running on hard cement. Jungkook checks his phone—there's still a good ten minutes left according to the GPS. He moves to turn the radio on to break the eeriness of the drive when an incoming call pops on his car screen.

"Who's that? Who's calling?" Mr. Jeon pipes up.

"It's __." Jungkook hits the answer button. "Hey honey! You're on speaker." He smiles a big, wide grin that says nothing less than he misses you.

"Hi! I'm on my lunch break and thought I'd give you guys a call. I'm stopping at the grocery store tonight, after work. Anything you need?"

“Some booze would be nice!” Mr. Jeon echos and looks at his wife who merely shakes her head. He hasn’t had a drink in twenty years due to his high blood pressure, yet he’s still making the same damn jokes. “Got any Soju? Or maybe Bokbunja?” He chuckles at Mrs. Jeon’s sour face.

Jungkook pays his dad no mind and replies to you. “Uhm….we're low on milk again. I drank the last one yesterday.”

"You went through all those gallon jugs in a week?!" You'd think you'd be used to the amount of dairy your husband packs away but every time, it shocks you as much as the first. You married a milk-lovin’ machine.

Jungkook chuckles. "I'm sorry. I can get them for you if you want. We're on our way to get brunch, then hitting the bookstore for Dad, and after we'll swoop back home. I can pick it up along the way.”

“No need, I’m already going out later so I’ll get it. Anything else?”

“There’s nothing else I can think of. How’s work going?” He’s hoping it’s not hectic given the fact that last week was an absolute sandstorm. He distinctively remembers you coming home with nothing more than tired feet and dark circles under your eyes. He drew you a bath that night.

“Eh, so-so. I have a meeting with my boss later but besides that, it’s the usual. I wish I could have come to brunch with you guys. I feel bad I’m missing it.” Well, you do and you don’t. If Jungkook was planning on talking to his mom about the happenings of last night you wanted to be around for support but it was also a matter that should be between a mother and her son.

“Us too, but we’ll see you ton–shit!” Jungkook slams on the break when he sees he’s about to crash into a black SUV. Everyone’s seatbelts lock at the sudden jerk. “Sorry, sorry!” He checks the mirror to find his parents clinging to their seatbelts.

“Are you guys okay?! Jungkook?!”

He scans all around him to find rows and rows of cars all trying to merge into each other’s lanes. Some are coming from the exit nearby whereas others are trying to squeeze through people in hopes to get ahead.

Dammit, Jungook cruses to himself.

“Yeah, we’re good honey. Everything’s okay but we’ve hit a traffic jam. I’m not sure why since it’s literally 11:40 a.m on a Wednesday but looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a bit.”

“We’d never have this problem at home.” Jungkook hears his mother mumbling under her breath to which his father replies with a nodding of his head. “If it weren’t for all this nonsense we’d be there by now.”

“Absolutely. We’d be there fifteen minutes ago,” his father adds with his hands in the air. “Isn’t there some kind of way you can get around this son, like a shortcut?”

Ah yes, shortcuts on the highway. Why didn’t he think of that? Let him just push the button that says flight mode and–no! Having enough, Jungkook holds his foot on the break and twists his body around to face his parents.

“Alright listen to me right now. This is not Tiny Town where there are a million dirt roads that pop from anywhere and all seem to lead to one other. Everyone drives at least seventy out here and that’s just the way it is because this..." He gestures outside the windshield. "This is what happens! We all get stuck in this congested funnel! But if you two can think of a way to get out of here that doesn’t involve attempting to bulldoze other cars, I’m all ears. Until then we’re going to sit here and talk about the weather because there's nothing else we can do!"

Jungkook looks back and forth between his parents. Mrs. Jeon simply stares outside her window while his dad gives a slow nod in understanding.

"Is it really that bad?"

Jungkook relaxes his body back to face the front when he hears your voice. "Yeah, it's pretty bad __." He lets out a long, exasperated sigh. This is going to be a very long day.

"Nice out today. Mind if I roll down the window?" The traffic hasn't got any better and it was starting to get stuffy in the car. Mr. Jeon desperately needed some fresh air in his face.

"Mhm yeah, go ahead."

"How about some music? Find out what's on the radio will you." He sticks his arm out the window, letting the gentle breeze hit his skin. When the first song blares through the speakers, Jungkook's mother breaks her deafening silence.

"Dear god! What music is this?"

Mr. Jeon immediately perks up. "It's PSY! Turn it up! Turn it up, boy!" Jungkook appeases his father's wishes and turns the knob a few more notches. "Oppa Gangnam Style! Eae eae eae e, sexy lady!"

Hearing his dad singing at the top of his lungs has Jungkook rubbing the side of his head. It's not that he sounded bad but he was singing so loud that everyone around them started pointing, laughing, or rolling up their own windows. "Dad, people are going to get annoyed. Take it down a little."

Deeply immersed in the song, Mr. Jeon continues singing regardless of his son's request. "Op, op, op, op, oppa Gangnam Style!" He starts rocking in his seat which causes a few middle schoolers in the car next to them to pop out their phones.

"Dad!" Jungkook hollers when he notices the kids taking pictures. If doesn't put an end to this now, his father's face is going to be trending all over the internet with god knows what filter.

"Op, op, op, op, on on on on!"

"Dad stop!" He tries again, this time turning the music down. Mrs. Jeon attempts to calm her husband down too, placing a hand on one of his arms but it doesn't take much for it to be ripped out of her grasp. Mr. Jeon ends up nearly whacking his wife in the face due to all his energetic dancing.

"Erotic sexy lady! Oppa Gangnam Sty–hey! Song wasn't done yet!" Jungkook's dad never looked so offended in his life. If he had adjusted his gaze just a few inches to the left he'd see the group of kids, the ones taking photos earlier, giggling to one another. But he was too pissed at his son for crashing his party that it went to the wayside.

"Honey, you were causing a disturbance," Mrs. Jeon says.

"A disturbance? In this traffic jam, I'm the disturbance?" He refuses to believe he's the annoyance when they've been in the middle of a highway, moving at 5 mph for the last hour. PSY has recently become his favorite singer and not enjoying himself would have been an absolute tragedy in his opinion. "It's all of you who should be thanking me for offering some shred of entertainment at times like these."

"The entire population of South Korea is going to be thanking you then." Jungkook creeps forward as soon as the car in front of him moves up a ways. Finally moving again, he hums.

"Hey!" An abrupt voice calls from a slight distance. Two teenage boys pull up in a Jaguar, greasy grins on their faces. "Great singing Grandpa! Really know how to move!" The one in the passenger seat flashes his phone playing a video of Jungkook's dad online.

"Wha–how–What?! You delete that right now!" Mr. Jeon is stunned, tripping over his words at the shock of himself actually being the center of the internet. The video is unexpectedly clear.

"Just ignore them, Dad." Jungkook rolls up all the windows in the car and inches up the best he can to get the teenagers out of direct sight.

"But-but how did they do that so fast? It hasn't even been five minutes yet!"

"It only takes seconds, honey," Mrs. Jeon sighs, realizing her husband has become famous over a re-rendition of a PSY song. Of all things, it had to be that.

"I'm starving."

"Me too."

Jungkook glances at the time–2:40p.m. It's now been three hours of sitting in traffic and they've only moved about ten miles. What on earth is congesting the highway this much?

"Maybe we should take one of these exits." His dad scrolls through the map on his phone. "Says there are a few restaurants down exit 6A."

Jungkook considers the idea. He wants to get off the highway, yes, but so does everyone else. The exit his dad is talking about is off the far right lane which means he's going to need to shove in front of everyone's way.

"You sure it's a good place? Wherever it is you're looking?" The reason why he asks is that his dad is notorious for leading them into the most ruin down places. The last time he was in charge of directions, they ended up in front of an abandoned pizza shop.

Mrs. Jeon takes the phone from her husband's hand and swipes through the photos of a quaint restaurant. "It's not bad," she concludes. "And if it means we can get out of this mess, then I'm with your father on this one."

Two against one. Jungkook turns his signal on and waits for someone to let him over. He earns a few honks when he manages to squeeze his nose over but does his best to give an apologetic wave.

After a few more lane changes he gets in the exit lane. He isn't the only one planning to take exit 6B though, being that there are at least twenty other cars waiting in line.

"Maybe we were better off back where we were. All these people want to get off the same place. If we keep going there's bound to be another exit with far less traffic."

Really? Jungkook feels himself ticking again. After all that shoving to get over here and this is what he gets? No, he's not moving back over. They're going to wait in this stupid lane until it gets them to where they originally agreed.

"We just got here and we're not moving back anywhere. This lane should clear up in less time than it would take to go back on the main highway," Jungkook says. "Also, I probably don't need to clarify this but, we're not going to make it to that bookstore you wanted, Dad."

"It's fine, son. We'll go another day."

Which means tomorrow, Jungkook half grumbles to himself. His parents are here for another day after all and he knows his father well enough to know that "another day" really means the closest day possible.

Despite its size, the restaurant his parents choose is charming with its floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and giant, bay windows. The odd hanging plant is spread throughout the open dining space as well, perfectly setting the mood of serenity.

The restaurant only seems to hold about a dozen people inside, however. So thinking it is best to avoid sitting in an overly crowded space, Jungkook asks for one of the tables outside.

“Oh now this is lovely,” his mother praises, pulling her chair up to the table. Jungkook can’t describe how relieved he is to finally hear something positive after hours of nonstop grumbling.

Mr. Jeon takes a seat next to his wife and across from his son. “I just saw someone get Samgyeopsal and it was huge! Let’s get that to share.”

His enthusiasm is short-lived when the scrunched-up face from his wife says she's not a fan. “That's too much food! We still have to be hungry for dinner so we can eat with __."

"Mom's right," Jungkook agrees reluctantly. "__'s stopping at the grocery store after work so we can prep for dinner tonight. I know traffic slowed us down so we're eating at a weird time but it's better we go with something light."

"Oh well, we can always take some to go! Surely __ will enjoy some beautifully grilled pork!" Jungkook's father is adamant. He wants nothing more than a heavy meal after being stuck in the car all morning.

"__ doesn't like pork Dad. And we all know as soon as we get a whiff of it cooking there's not going to be any leftovers."

"Alright, alright," his dad concedes. "I guess I'll try their bibimbap. What are you having hon?"

Jungkook checks his phone messages while his parents make small talk over the menu. You texted him earlier to see how traffic was holding up and he only able to get back to you minutes ago.

Wifey ❤️ : So I'm guessing you haven't talked to your mom yet?

Jungkook: No, haven't brought it up. She seems fine though with the way she's been acting. It doesn't take much for her to go back to her usual self

Wifey ❤️: Her usual self being...?

Jungkook: You know, really particular.

Wifey ❤️: So she's complaining again. I'm sorry 😞

Jungkook: When I was talking with her on the phone before we left, she was much more careful about what she was saying. I expected it to still be that way now. Must have been a mood.

Wifey ❤️: Sounds like she wasn't sure how you'd be reacting after what happened last night. Maybe she's just reverting to back what she's used to because she's unsure what else to do or say. I'd still try finding a way to talk to her. Does it seem tense?

Jungkook: Yeah, you have a point. But Mom's also had a good way of sweeping things under the rug. It's not tense but it's just uncomfortably normal?

Wifey ❤️: Hmm, strange. And your dad's fine?

Jungkook: Honey...have you been on any social media in the last half hour?

Wifey ❤️: No, why?

Jungkook: Might wanna check. We had a little incident while in traffic. I'm still in shock honestly 😅

Jungkook waits for you to find the video of his dad. He already had the guys blowing up his phone from it so he's surprised none of them at least forwarded it to you.

Wifey ❤️: oh my god! Jungkook what happened?! 😂 I hope you're prepared for your students to be all over this

Jungkook: oh shit, that didn't even cross my mind 😩 also it's not funny honey! Listening to my dad singing eae e sexy lady was traumatizing enough. Now I have to see and hear it every time I pop open my phone or some teen punks show it to me!

Wifey ❤️: Aw Kookie, they're just being kids...try not to overthink. And you know those videos come and go. Your dad will be at the bottom of the chain by next week. Until then keep him away from PSY 😅 But I'm sorry you're having a day, I love you 🥺

Jungkook: I MISS YOU SO MUCH 😭

Wifey ❤️: [sent an image]

Fuck! Jungkook chokes on his spit when he sees a blurry close up of your cleavage. Thankfully his parents are still too occupied by the menu that they didn't notice.

Jungkook: sexy af but this isn't the time to be sexting me baby!

He nearly saves the photo if it weren't for the fact that he already had an album dedicated to very sensual *ahem erotic* photos of you. You had let him take them himself —best motherfuckin' birthday ever.

Wifey ❤️: oh adhjjhj, sorry!! That was an accident. I'm such a klutz. This is what I meant... [sent an image]

"What's going on over there?" Jungkook merely glimpses at the new image before whipping his head up, hearing his mother's, sharp tone.

"It's just __. She's asking about groceries again."

With slightly narrowed eyes, Mrs. Jeon continues. "We're about to order if you're ready."

Dammit. He'll have to reply to you later. Jungkook swiftly pockets the phone. "Okay yeah I'm good to go."

"This is delicious," Mr. Jeon says, patting his mouth with a napkin. "Best bibimbap I've had in a long time."

"That's great Dad." Jungkook stirs his noodles.

"Ah, where's the restroom around here?" He asks the waitress as she walks by. She tells him it's in the restaurant, all the way to the back. Mr. Jeon pushes his chair from the table and excuses himself. "All that broth has me needing to go."

"Yes yes, just go." Why his father needed to explain himself every time he needed to use the restroom is beyond him. Jungkook peers at his mother, taking her time eating her own bowl of noodles–they ended up ordering the same thing. "How is it?" he asks.

"It's good."

"Not too spicy?"

"No, it's mild."

Jungkook gathers more noodles on his chopstick. He freezes halfway when he sees his mother eyeing him intensely. "Everything okay?"

Mrs. Jeon folds her hands in her lap. "It's occurred to me that we still have an elephant in the room. I was hoping we'd be able to talk about it while your father browsed the bookstore. But plans changed."

And here he thought his mother had been playing down last night when really she was biding her time. "You know Dad's gonna be back in like ten minutes right?"

Mrs. Jeon nods. "I know it's not the most convenient of times or places, but I'm afraid if we delay it won't get discussed."

"Okay." Jungkook sets his chopsticks down. "Well...where do you want to start?"

"An apology would be nice." Her voice is mellow but the words are a clear demand rather than an offer. Of course, he wants to apologize to her for all the things he accused her of last night. But he wasn't expecting her to be this forward with it, especially since she was guilty of plenty herself. "I'm waiting Kookie," she coos, taking a sip of water.

Jungkook knits his eyebrows in response, unsure of what he's hearing. His mother looks far too relaxed about this whole thing. He decides to give her the benefit of the doubt. "You're right," he starts. "I'm sorry for what I said last night. I shouldn't have spoken that way and I'm sorry for making you leave. I think you and Dad showing up all a sudden threw me off and I reacted poorly."

Mrs. Jeon cracks a tight smile and reaches for her son's hand. "Thank you, Jungkook. I accept your apology." She gives his hand a squeeze before moving to pick up her chopsticks. "Now that we got that settled let's talk about the reunion. I'm thinking about talking to–"

What....the fuck? His mom did not just glide over this whole issue. She did not just put everything on him. And she did not just bring up that damn reunion again, which he's made very clear he wants nothing a part of. "Is that all you wanted? For me to make my amends with you?"

"What else would there be Kookie?" She scoffs, eyes wide.

"Goddamn it." He struggles to maintain a hushed voice. "Can you please stop calling me that? And what the hell do you mean 'what else would there be'? I'm not trying to put the blame on you but there's a good amount you should be saying to me too."

"What things are you referring to? Don't tell me this is about the reunion again. Look, whatever it is that I said was because I just want to see you more. And no more swearing. You know I don't like that kind of language."

"How can you be like this?" Jungkook can't stop himself. He figured his mom and he would have a better, heart-to-heart than this. It makes his skin crawl that his mother continues to play the victim. "It's genuinely shocking me how....do you even love me?"

Mrs. Jeon pauses at that. "Of course, I love you Jungkook. Why–why would you ask that?" She blinks back the slightest hint of tears forming along the edge of her eyes. Never in a million years did she think her son would doubt something this crucial.

"I feel like–"

"Feel what? What is it?"

"I feel like you care more about what I can do for you than you do me, as your son." Jungkook sniffs. This is a lot harder for him to say than he imagined. "There's been so many times that you've–"

"Don't say this honey! I care about you very much!" She reaches for his hand again but he yanks it away. "What are you trying to tell me?" His mother waits for him to form the rest of the sentence.

Jungkook hesitates to look at her straight on because behind what appears to be concerned eyes is disbelief. She isn't taking any of this seriously. It's written all over her face, tone, and all the way down to the way she's focusing on an answer rather than his inability to comfortably talk to her.

"What have I done so many times?"

"Honestly at this point, what haven't you done?" With an icy glare, Jungkook can't hold himself back anymore. The pot that's been brewing, deep in the darkest parts of him is finally overflowing and it's not going to be pretty to behold. "Do you realize how many times you chose your job, your status, and even your friends over me? And you make Dad go along with literally anything! Is it so horrible for someone to say no to you?!"

The couple next to them shoot uncomfortable looks his way, whispering to each other. Jungkook ignores it and starts counting with his fingers.

"Never once have you ever taken responsibility for showing up uninvited, nagging me about this that, and the other thing, making backhanded comments about my life choice, and most of all pretending our relationship is peachy fine. Well, I'm sorry mom, I'm thirty-four years old and I don't need to live by your rules! Our relationship is barely hanging by a thread and being quite real, it's __ and Dad who are the ones clinging to that thread, making sure it doesn't completely snap."

Mrs. Jeon opens her mouth to interject but Jungkook doesn't allow it to happen. It's not exactly intentional that he's pouring out so much in the middle of people's lunch. Still, he's been shoved over a steep cliff, head first.

"I'm sorry mom, I don't know how many times I need to say it. I don't enjoy any bit of this. It's just been a long stretch of–"

"That's enough! I don't want to hear any more." Mrs. Jeon immediately grabs her purse and twists her neck every which way. "Where's your father? I want to leave."

"Mom I'm trying to talk to you! Why won't you let me talk?"

His mother doesn't reply. She doesn't look at him. It's the silent treatment, Jungkook concludes–it's fucking irritating. "I'm not trying to be hurtful," he says, forcing himself to calm down. "Mom look at me."

She doesn't move.

It only takes seconds for their waitress to near her way up to the table with anxious steps. "I'm sorry to be doing this but unfortunately, we've received a few complaints of a disturbance out here." The young girl clasps her hands. "To ensure all our guests are comfortable we're going to need to ask you to take your conversation elsewhere. I'm really sorry."

Fuck. How embarrassing. Jungkook clears his throat and stands up from his seat. "We understand and are genuinely sorry for the commotion. We'll pay at the front and be on our way. Thank you for waiting our table."

The young girl gives a nervous smile and retreats inside the restaurant. Jungkook makes a note to give her a generous tip.

"Hey, what's going on out here?" Mr. Jeon rushes over, hair blowing over due to the breeze. "I heard there was some inconsiderate party out here airing out their dirty laundry for all to see. I tell you, people these days don't know what privacy means anymore!" He shakes his head and takes a seat.

"Get up Dad we're leaving."

"But I'm not done my–––oh shit." Mr. Jeon clenches his teeth. "You two?"

Mrs. Jeon gets up from her chair, still wordless, and walks towards the parking lot. "I'll get this Dad." Jungkook stops his father from pulling out his wallet. "It is best if you go try to ease Mom. I don't think she'll be talking to me for a while."

Mr. Jeon puts a hand on his son's shoulder. It's his way of offering comfort. "You're mother has made things difficult for you, Jungkook. I'll try getting through to her. In the meantime don't let this eat you up. It's been a long time coming."

Jungkook doesn't get home until quarter past six. The drive home was better than the drive to the restaurant, but hitting the notorious five o'clock traffic slowed them down once more. He also had to drop his parents at their hotel which was no easy task. His mother barely gave him a glance before hopping out of the car. The amount of guilt settling in his gut isn't going away any time soon.

"Hey." Jungkook finds you searching through the kitchen cupboard. "I hope you're okay with spice tonight! I got this really awesome–oh baby what's wrong?" You stop what you're doing when you see your husband come up behind you with sunken eyes. He wraps his larger arms around you, desperately needing your scent.

"I blew it," he croaks. "She's so mad at me."

"I'm sorry Jungkook. I'm sorry I couldn't be there." You turn in his arms to pull him into a full embrace. His nose tickles the side of your neck but you don't laugh. "You wanna tell me?"

Jungkook takes your hand and sits you both on the couch in the living room. "The morning started out rough with three hours of traffic and the two of them in the back seat, telling me where and how I should drive. Then my dad got unexpectedly famous off a PSY song. We finally got to some restaurant about half an hour west of here before 3pm. Everything was going okay until dad went to the bathroom."

"Okay," you say, scooting closer beside him. You rub small circles on his upper back as he leans forward on his spread-apart knees. "What happened?"

"Mom suggested we talk about last night so I said sure." You watch as Jungkook fiddles with his hands. "But she didn't actually care about a conversation or what I had to say. All she wanted, all she expected, was for me to apologize to her so we'd be okay again. It all came out after that and I feel so horrible about it. We ended up getting kicked out of the restaurant too."

"Jungkook..."

"I tried __. I wanted to be patient and to be a good son but she can't even look at me right now." He falls back on the couch, staring at the blank wall in front. "Dad's convinced it was bound to happen."

"You are a good son, Jungkook." You comb a few strands of his soft, ebony hair. He closes his eyes as you do. "You're mom's the one who needs to readjust her view."

"I never thought I'd yell at my mom about all that stuff. And certainly not in public where everyone is trying to have a pleasant lunch. I'm a grown-ass adult and I should have had better control of myself."

You settle into his inner shoulder, laying a hand on his chest. "Even grown adults have limits and your mom's far surpassed those limits. Don't blame yourself for this."

"Dad said the same thing."

"Well, that's two against one."

Jungkook smiles. Two against one, that's where he got that from. Not that you're the first person to use the phrase but he never used it as regularly until you moved in together.

"I missed you so much today. I don't deserve you."

You cock your head up as quick as the words fly from his mouth. "Don't you dare say things like that! You're a good man despite how awful your mother treats you." You lean your face near his, eyes wandering deep into his dark brown ones. "If you're not otherwise too tired, I'm going to show you how much I love you."

Jungkook opens his lids at that–apparently not too tired. You smirk and get off the couch.

"Here?" His classic doe-eyes peer down at your kneeled position. Seeing you settle this perfectly between his muscular thighs triggers an intense blood rush that goes straight to his dick. Jungkook didn't think he was going to get horny tonight but here he was with his half-harden length in your hands in the middle of the living room.

"Mhm." You position yourself just enough for him to have a clear view of your tits. You had taken both your shirt and bra off before starting. You know how your husband likes it. "That okay with you?"

Jungkook groans when you grip his cock harder, gliding it from the base to the tip in repeated motions. "Fuck yeah. It's more than okay." You giggle at how quickly your husband gets in the mood. He thinks you're the bitch in the bedroom? You quicken your movements.

"Oh shit this feels so good." He grips the couch cushion, keeping his focus on you. "Need that gorgeous mouth wrapped around me baby, please. Shit–"

You honor your husband's requests and trace your tongue from the base of his cock all the way up to his tip. Once there, you suck lightly before taking him in whole.

"That's it. Take my cock, fuck." Jungkook goes on to praise you as you bottom out. You gag a little at first being that you haven't done this in what....weeks? Damn. Whatever happened to the days when you'd literally go down on each other every day?

"We need to get you reacquainted with my cock honey," he teases, bucking his hips forward to push himself further into your mouth. "All these weeks without my cock in your mouth has you gagging all over me. Been it's been too long hasn't it?"

"Mm," is the only thing you reply with, the weight of his thick length dragging back and forth on your tongue. By now your pussy is pulsating like crazy and you're tempted to just get up and fuck yourself on him. But tonight was about your husband–you're going to make sure of it. And Jungkook loves nothing more than getting head with your bare tits in full view, obviously.

A few sucks later and Jungkook starts fucking himself into your mouth. They began as soft, needy bucks of his hips but now they're rough, full-force thrusts. His length shoves to the back of your throat and you moan desperately around him. "Did you miss my cock baby? I bet you did. My sexy wife....you're mine and you're gonna make me come, aren't you? Fuck yeah, you are."

Your eyes water as you continue to take him, hallowing your cheeks the best you can. Jungkook has his eyes screwed shut and sweat dripping from his forehead. Your panties are so fucking soaked right now and your nipples are defiantly hard from sheer arsousal.

"God I'm so close baby. You're mouth is---fuck I don't even have the words. It's fucking magic! And your tits are so hot from this angle. Kinda reminds me of what you sent to me earlier. Can I come on them? I'm so close." Jungkook takes your broken moans as a yes and starts ramming into you two more times before pullout and covering your breasts with warm liquid. "Fuck fuck fuck," he grunts, spilling himself on you.

What a mess. You look down at yourself. What a motherfuckin' mess and you love it. Jungkook pulls you into a passionate kiss, tongue rolling with yours in heavenly harmony. "Thank you for this," he says between kisses. "I'll help you wash up, I promise."

"Mm Jungkook," you pant. "I think I need you inside me."

Hey, he got his dick sucked and he creamed your tits–it's mama's turn now, or excuse you–wifey.

A/N: this got nasty whoops. not sorry. Anyway LMK what you think, thanks for reading! 💞 also pls vote if youd be so kind

Masterlist

Taglist:

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P.S. I'm sorry but I'm not sure if I'm able to tag all of you!

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[melanieph321]

Hi, girl!!!! Could you make a fanfic with Kenan being maybe ten years younger than the reader? It can be about anything you want. It would be interesting to know about this age difference.

Thank you. And a hug directly from Brazil!

Ten years is crazy!! 😭😭

But I'll see what I can do.....

10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 7)

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Too Young

Poor Kenan. So young. So innocent. 🤣

Summary - Kenan has a crush on Reader. However, Reader thinks he's too young for her.

Enjoy 💞

Kenan's heart was beating fast as he approached your office. You were waiting for him behind the closed door, awakening an eagerness that was impossible to ignore.

"Kenan, back again?" You smiled, welcoming him into your office by stepping away from the frame.

He had barely gathered enough courage to knock on your door, doing so with trembling hands. Now here he was, and here you were. Together.

"How can I help you today? Are your feet still bothering you?"

"I'm afraid so." He muttered shyly since having you examine his feet was truly embarrassing on every level. However, it gave Kenan an excuse to see you again. An excuse he was happy to use more than once.

"Well, then I have exactly what you need."

"You do?"

"Mhm, it's actually a revolutionary treatment known to help a lot of players with issues like yours."

Kenan watched you go through the cabinets in your office. A small examining room similar to the ones the team physios had. Except you weren't a physios, but a nurse.

Juventus very own.

Juventus very finest.

It was silly of Kenan to be crushing on you as hard as he did, considering the significant edge gap between you. Ten years, to be exact. However, you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. The most alluring in every way. And as you bent over to retrieve something from a drawer below, Kenan's neck strained from the tilting of his head, shamefully checking you out.

"Got it!"

He managed to straightened himself out by the time you got back to him, carrying a small bottle of a pink liquid.

"This should do the trick." You said. "There's nothing a good nail polish can't fix."

"Pardon, nail what?" Kenan frowned as he watched you shake the tiny bottle before turning its lid.

"It's nailpolish." You confirmed, a strong smell spreading in the room, finding its way into Kenan's sensative nostrils. "It's the best way to treat Athletes Foot like yours. One coating of Plushy Pink and your nails will never crack again."

"Plushy....Pink?"

You snickered at Kenan's wrinkled expression. His innocence adorable to you. "How about you take off your trainers, and I'll show you how to put it on."

Despite his hesitations, Kenan was quick to follow your commands. Shoes, socks, clothes. If you wanted him to strip, he'd strip.

"Here, give me your right."

"My what?"

"Foot, Kenan. Your right foot." You giggled.

He seemed terribly disoriented. However, just the thought of your skin caressing his skin sent Kenan's mind to the moon. And to have your hands touching his feet simply unlocked a fetish Kenan didn't know he had.

You were gentle, however. Your hands warm, unlike most physios. They were soft too, smelling of handsanatizer and a splash of raspberry. A part of him hoped your scent would rub off on him. Unless the smell of the nailpolish would be too overpowering.

"Now, be careful not apply too much." You said, dipping the lid into the bottle, pink liquid dripping form it's tip as you pulled the brush back out. "All you need is a good coat—."

"Wait!"

You were startled by the sudden jerk of Kenan's body, his foot almost kicking you in the face. "Kenan?"

"Shit. I'm sorry." He apologized but didn't seize to look nervous. "I can't...." He sighed. Just the thought of wearing nailpolish triggering his distress. "Pink nailpolish Y/N. I'm sorry, but I wouldn't be caught dead wearing pink nailpolish."

"Why not?" You frowned, the lid of the bottle still hovering in your hand.

"Well, firstly I'm a man. Secondly....why are you laughing?" Kenan's cheeks blushed at the sight of your hand against your mouth, smothering a laughter. You were laughing at him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"I'm sorry Kenan. I really didn't mean to."

"Yeah, right." His pride was definitely shattered. Even more so as he shifted his head in search of his balled up socks.

"Oh, come on Kenan. Don't leave."

You made it worse by addressing him like a child, fueling the burning sensation in his cheeks.

"Come on, Kenan. I just found it funny the way you speak about being a man. I mean, who even says something like that?"

Great, you were about to tell him how he wasn't man enough for you.

Kenan hopped down from the table, taking rush strides towards the door, reaching for the handle.

"To me, a real man isn't defied by something silly like nail polish, and he definitely doesn't care about what his teammates think of him."

Kenan paused in the door frame, his back facing you.

"A real man holds his own." You nodded, although Kenan couldn't see. However, he was definitely listening. "Every woman wants a real man. Are you a real man, Kenan?"

He turned around swiftly. "I am."

A smile spread on your lips. "Show me."

Kenan returned to the examining table, kicking off his shoes on his way there. He then stretched his leg towards you, offering you his feet, his cracked toes, anticipating the touch of your hands, warm and gentle.

"Ready?" You said, the nailpolish in your hand.

He nodded. "Ready."

Kenan's throat moved when he swallowed, still, he did everything not to twitch again. You were quicker with the left, but took your time to apply nailpolish on his right foot. Naturally, the nails were slightly more damaged on his right foot. But I guess that's what you get from years of practicing a craft such as football where the saying was simpe: No pain. No gain. However, what kept him going was his passion for it. Kenan loved football. Almost as much as he loved—."

"There! All done." You said and stood back to admire your work.

Kenan jiggled his toes, slightly fascinated by the way they turned out.

"Pretty, no?"

He groaned in response, wanting nothing more than to put his socks back on. However, you told him to wait a few minutes for the polish to dry. Otherwise, he might end up ruining it.

"So..." Kenan said, having proved himself a real man. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Who, me?" You were returning the nailpolish into the cabinets below but paused just as you bent over.

"Yes, you." Kenan grinned, meeting your tilting head, having tilted his own.

"No. Why are you asking." You said and returned to him once the polish had been stored away.

"No, reason." Kenan shrugged. "I just thought I'd take you out someday, you know, like to a restaurant or something."

"Kenan." You said, a mocking irony in your voice. "I know you didn't just ask me out on a date."

He leaned back against his arms, a large grin on his face. "So what if I did? We're both single, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but what are you, twenty?"

"Nineteen."

"Good, lord, that's even worse."

"What is?" Kenan sat back up, unsure about your reaction. A look of terror in your eyes.

"Kenan, I'm ten years older than you. If we were to date, I'd basically be grooming a child."

"A child!" He protested. "I'm not a fucking child. I play for the first team." Kenan instantly regretted his choice of words seeing your reaction to them. "Come on, Y/N. You know what I mean. Just give me a chance." He pleaded.

You shook your head, a look of remorse on your face. "I painted your nails....and I know that I said that it doesn't make you less of a man...."

"For fuck sakes."

You shook your head. "I'm so sorry, Kenan. You're just too young for me."

Kenan hopped down from the table, bending down to retrieve his socks and shoes, not bothering to put them back on as he headed for the door, pausing in the frame. Kenan knew that the next time that he stepped into your office, it would solemnly be for a check-up on his feet. "The nailpolish...." He asked, struggling to meet your eyes.

It broke your heart. However, you still stood by what you said. "What about it?"

"Does it come in more colors. I don't think pink was really my shade."

You nodded, a sly smile on your lips. "I'll make sure to ask the team to order some more."

"Great. Thanks." He nodded and left your office feeling like a young man with a broken heart.

A broken heart and Plushy Pink toes.

DON'T MISS - 10 DAYS OF REQUESTS

(DAY 1)

(DAY 2)

(DAY 3)

(DAY 4)

(DAY 5)

(DAY 6)