#its rlly like baring your soul out there

[nekomasmngr]

life update: ive buried myself in my irl work

and whenever someone messages me (for good reason) about a fandom thing i get so irritated because i just dont have the time or headspace at the moment and the mild irritation passes im left with feeling bad that i neglected fandom stuff for too long 😞 but at the same time can you just stop :D

[christianbalesblueadidas]

I have a prompt 🙋‍♀️👀 (a rlly long one). reader thinking noticing how Bruce always disappears/makes an excuse to leave at night (like on dates, events, or maybe while getting freaky (👀) he suddenly just gets up and goes like “oh sorry smth came up”) and he can never give a convincing enough excuse so she starts getting distant and cold coz she thinks he’s not rlly serious in the relationship and Bruce notices this and feels rlly bad but the reader only finds out why after she had to get rescued by him……. So yeah there’s my prompt yay!!!

I'm Sorry, Sweetheart

bruce wayne x f!reader

your boyfriend seems to hate being around you. it's time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

warnings: NSFW, minors DNI (18+), some smut in the middle, kidnapping, graphic language

word count: 3.4k

a/n: thank you for the request! i hope i did your idea justice.

Bruce Wayne is singlehandedly the most infuriating man you’ve ever dated.

Every week, you know him a bit more. Little by little, you get to know him — soul, mind, and body — more and more every time you meet. And it’s not the cute “let’s take this slow” type of getting to know each other. It’s the irritating kind, where you get to know more about him and his world and he suddenly takes it away from your hands.

Your first date goes smoothly enough, setting an expectation he can never reach since. Despite it being the bare minimum, you are happy he is there the entire time, physically and mentally. He never once looked at his cellular phone or his watch or a random clock in the room. It is just you and him and the company you share together.

On the second date, he starts off completely interested and later into the night, he inexplicably turns distracted — and almost anxious. He picks up his phone and says he has a call to make, he disappears into the corner of the room, then comes back to your table and tells you he has somewhere to go. Wayne Enterprises business. Ignoring your barely hidden disappointment and offense, you nod with a smile and tell him, “It’s alright, Bruce.”

Of course, he notices your hurt expression when he leaves. Even if you manage to hide your emotions well, Bruce is trained to notice it. To make up for that mistake, he invites you to a fundraising party. Frankly, it’s out of your league, but you can never pass up an opportunity to be with Bruce and to finally experience a fancy party.

Contrary to your expectations, it’s the most boring party you’ve ever been in, full of snooty millionaires and social climbers. You don’t know how Bruce endures this. You’ve read about and saw the models he brings — multiple at a time too — to his parties and you’re guessing that’s how. You push away the thought, not sure whether to be insecure that you can’t measure up to his models and actresses or whether to be proud that he chose you and only you to be his date tonight.

You stand in the far corner of the large ballroom at the top of his penthouse, subtly avoiding Bruce’s “friends” and thinking about him. And speaking of the devil, his arm snakes its way around your waist from behind. Despite him being so close and having his arm around your middle, his hand is flat and open, careful not to hold you in a way you won’t like.

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Bruce whispers to your ear and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You roll your eyes in amusement and turn your head to face his. Your breath hitches — a bit too obviously and embarrassingly so — as you realize that you’re so close to him. However, you quickly recover and reply, “Isn’t that line a bit too overdone for you, Bruce?”

He shrugs a shoulder playfully, his full glass of champagne sloshing in the flute.

“It always works,” he says. “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it. But how about I try another line?”

With a charming smile that makes you weak in the knees, his open palm grips your hip, just right above the curve of your backside. His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes and his grip hesitant, almost like he isn’t very sure of himself or of something else. Nevertheless, you’ll fall for his charm anytime.

“You wanna get out of here?”

That single question brings you to his bedroom, which is almost the entire floor if it weren’t for the foyer to give him privacy from the elevator. You’ve never seen a bedroom quite like it. Floor-to-ceiling windows that display a view of Gotham, frosted glass panes around his bed for some semblance of privacy, and a sitting area beside it that looks over the city. It’s an apartment without a kitchen, which you’d be more astonished about if your breath weren’t taken away by Bruce’s slow kisses on your lips and your neck.

He has you on your back on the bed, silky taupe sheets like clouds under you. He hovers over you, his entire figure taking over your vision, his muscles hidden by a black Giorgio Armani suit and gray tie. His lips and tongue move languidly against yours like he has all the time in the world. He holds himself up by a hand beside your head and the other presses your thigh against his hip. His hand idly runs up and down under your dress, but never quite reaches anywhere near where you need him the most.

“Bruce, plea—“

You’re interrupted by his phone on the nightstand. Your head whips to the side, glaring at the screeching machine. Who the hell is calling during this time of night? Well, perhaps that’s what you get for dating a billionaire. Rich people are always eccentric.

He suddenly stiffens up and gets off you. A pang of hurt in your heart rings as you notice how quickly he gets up like he got burnt. Your brows furrow, confused and a bit offended.

“Who is that?” you ask and you can’t help the way you sound so jealous. You’re aware of the fact that you shouldn’t be — not yet — but the fact that you’re in his bed is making you more sensitive about your feelings for him.

“Uh,” he reaches for his phone. He looks at the screen. “It’s Lucius Fox.” Lie. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”

He disappears into the bathroom to apparently take his call. In fact, it is just an alarm set with a ringtone to sound like a phone call. He feels especially bad about using you as an alibi, but his usual strategy to get out of parties that stretch on too late involve his dates.

Due to his playboy image, nobody questions when he leaves too early. He rarely sleeps with the women he invites to parties, and if he doesn’t, they never tell anyway because it hurts their pride to say that Bruce Wayne didn’t sleep with them. It never hurt him either. You, however, are different. He wishes he doesn’t have to use you.

He emerges out the bathroom with a regretful look on his face. You don’t know how much it also hurts for him to make you leave.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll have Alfred drive you home.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, it’s just work. But it’s urgent,” he replies and he almost winces at how uncharacteristically bad he is at lying to you.

“Oh, of course. It’s alright, Bruce.”

This time, you don’t hide your disappointment.

He tries his best to not abandon you every time you see each other. He scoots your meetups an hour or so earlier because Batman can’t adjust, not even for you. Then, he texts and calls you whenever he’s free and awake, giving you random updates that he doesn’t know make your day. His efforts reassure you eventually, and you’re no longer mad at his odd tendency to leave you so suddenly in the middle of the night or when it nears twelve. Now that you’re both content with how often you see each other and how often your nights don’t get interrupted, you’re both happy.

One day, you surprise him at his penthouse after work. It’s a random visit, to be frank, and you just wanted to watch television or do anything boring with him after you eat the dinner you have brought. What you don’t expect is that you’ll be on your back on his couch, stuffed full of his cock as the TV plays in the background, neither of you interested to watch it. No dinner yet either, but he's enough to make you full and wanting more.

Airy moans leave your lips as he thrusts into you, holding onto his broad shoulders by bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt in clenched fists. It has never occurred to you that you’ve never seen him without his shirt off even during sex. You’ve always been too distracted to care.

Too distracted like right now. The stretch of him in your cunt is delicious, satiating your appetite in ways that no food or other pleasure could. His pelvis rubs against your clit and you cry out every time his tip hits that spot in you while your bundle of nerves grind against his firm body. With every grind of hips, you reach new heights on your way to orgasm.

Bruce is a sight to behold. His eyes half-lidded mouth parted, moans spill from his wet lips. His chocolate brown hair a mess on his head, a product of your hands mussing them up earlier while making out. His muscled chest heaves, pressing against your softer one when he inhales. When your eyes aren't rolling back, you love staring at him above you.

“I— 'm close,” you manage to mumble out despite being so cock drunk.

"Me too, sweetheart," he growls out, a lower register that sounds unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, considering that you've only heard this tone from him during intimacy.

Bruce has one ear for you and the other for the TV, even when he's already nearing climax. The television is now apparently showing the news. The reporter says something about a bank robbery organized by the Joker and—

His hips thrust roughly into yours out of instinct, shocking you and making you moan even louder. He doesn't go faster, knowing it doesn't quicken the job. He takes your legs by the crook of your knees and presses your thighs to your torso, essentially folding you into a position you never knew you can do. You let go of his shirt and tangle your hands into his already-messy hair. With this new angle, his cock reaches deeper inside of you.

"Bruce," you moan out, your eyes rolling back. "Oh, fuck."

You don't know that he's trying very hard to make this good for you while letting him have time to take care of the bank robbery. He doesn't want to leave you in the dust again, mostly because it'll be an asshole move and because you're both on the verge of orgasm and a hard-on isn't something to bring to a fight.

More importantly for him, he doesn't want to leave you hanging. He can't express his thoughts and feelings very well other than through gifts and sex, so he wants to show you how much he adores you, especially that he's leaving you again. He knows it isn't enough, but it's all he can do for now.

He leans his head down to kiss you, sloppy and all tongues. While you're distracted by his mouth and his cock, he reaches a hand down and rubs circles on your clit while he thrusts in and out of you.

He proudly watches as you unravel underneath him, masterfully played by him like an instrument made only for him. Your toes curl in the air as you stiffen up and relax. He swallows your moans with his kisses, eagerly drinking in your pretty noises. He helps you ride it out like the gentleman he is, still moving in and out of your pussy.

He follows suit, coming deep inside you and painting your walls white. A deep groan rumbles through his chest, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack.

He internally curses when he realizes he didn't have a condom on and he's only lucky that you told him before you take birth control — and that you even allowed him to come in you. But still, he curses at his lapse of sensibility.

You come down from your high. Bruce is counting down the seconds and the minutes. He needs to be out of here as soon as possible to deal with the Joker. He slowly pulls out of you, come dripping down your flesh mixed with your wetness. But you can't even bask in the afterglow because of his urgent task.

"You alright, darling?" he asks breathlessly. He looks you up and down, surveying you.

You can only nod and hum in affirmation. Eyes half-lidded and gaze trained on him in a daze.

"You don't mind if I have to go now? Something came up."

Oh, how you hate that. Why does something always come up when you're in the middle of something?

"It's alright, Bruce."

That evening, Batman is too late to catch the Joker. When he gets there, he was already in his getaway car. He pursues him, leading to a high-speed chase around the city. However, the Joker has traps ready on the way. He should've known that he'd anticipate his presence.

Bruce comes home to you weary and frustrated. He takes it out on you, inexplicably being rougher than usual for your round two. You take it, enjoying it anyway. But still, something lingers in the back of your mind, a thought rearing its ugly head since the time he left — maybe even since a few months ago.

Is he not taking your relationship seriously? You should've guessed he wouldn't, you think, considering he does have a reputation. But you're optimistic enough to have thought that perhaps his reputation is mostly the work of the media. Even then, you can't deny the photos and videos you've seen of him. Perhaps it's true. He doesn't value you as much as you value him.

You don't talk to him since that day. You don't outright avoid him but when he doesn't reach out, you don't either.

He notices you distancing yourself from him. He figures that maybe you need some space, which is one of the worst decisions he can ever do when it comes to this situation. He has never been good with relationships.

It further upsets you. In your mind, he doesn't even care when you stop approaching him. He doesn't care that you're not seeing each other or even talking to each other much. He's only there if you want him first.

To Bruce, it's fine that you need space. It's fine that he doesn't get to see you as much as he wants to — at least, that's what he tells himself. Batman feels differently. His punches hit harder, the bruises he leaves much darker. Even though no one else knows about you and him, Gotham knows there's something upsetting the Bat more than usual.

He thinks about telling you his secret but that involves putting you in possible danger. No one else can know he is Batman. Not even you, not even if he cares for you so much. He'd rather distance form between you than tell you. He's got eyes on you, anyway.

You don't know how to go about this. It seems too presumptuous to barge into his penthouse. You're obviously not on that level of relationship to do so. A call is too impersonal. So, you don't go about it at all. You have never been good at communication.

You spend days constantly on the verge of tears, bottling up every drop of frustration you've felt ever since Bruce started acting suspicious around you. When you're at work, you stifle the urge to cry. When you're at home, you hold yourself back from calling him — and then cry. It's a vicious cycle and it hurts even more than when he leaves you.

Sighing, you insert the key into your car, more than ready to drive home after work. Suddenly, strong hands grab you into a beat-up black SUV parked nearby. You scream and flail, but nobody is around to help, or maybe they're too unbothered and selfish to care. This is Gotham after all; these things happen every day.

You can't see or speak, blindfolded and a duct tape covering your mouth. You can only hear what the kidnappers are talking about as they drive you to an unknown location. It's an isolatory experience and how you wish you were actually alone instead of tied up and blindfolded. Tears wet the bandana tied around your head as you quietly cry.

"Wayne would pay so much money to get that back."

"Would he? He has a new bitch every week."

"Lucky fucker."

"Hope not too lucky. I wanna get at least a mill from this bitch."

A loud bang from the roof of the car startles all of you. The driver slams the brakes, flinging you to the back of the front seat, a cry of pain ripping from your throat.

"Shit! It's Batman!"

"Fuck! I told you we shouldn't mess with Wayne! He has him in his payroll!"

The doors of the SUV open and the kidnappers hit you on the way as they rush out. You hear scuffling and punching and metal banging on metal and bones breaking. A sob escapes you despite you trying to keep your resolve.

"Don't let me see you again," a voice growls out. Then, what seems to be a body slams onto the side of the car.

Wait, that voice sounds familiar...

A rough material brushes your skin as — you assume — Batman rips off the tape on your mouth. A gasp leaves you, heaving in a deep breath. You hear metal ripping fabric and you can see again. You blink through your tears, adjusting to the light, which isn't much as you're in a lonely road in the middle of the night. Eventually, your limbs are free too, but you're still too weak to stand or walk.

Black surrounds his eyes due to his cowl and, with his armor and cape, he is completely shrouded in darkness. But you'd know those eyes anywhere. You'd know those lips anywhere. He can't hide even in darkness, his own domain.

"Bruce," you breathe out in relief.

Surprising him, you wrap your arms around his armored neck, pulling him close to you in an embrace. It's not the warmest nor most comfortable hug in the world, but the fact that it is him is what matters.

His eyes widen. How did you guess it was him so easily? Nevertheless, without missing a beat, his arms wrap around you protectively. His muscular form and dark cape warm you up and shield you from the world. He is relieved that his tracker works and alerted him at the right time. You're safe in his arms now.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, holding back another sob. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, the armor pressing onto your cheek.

Now, you understand. You understand all his sudden leaving, the odd hours he replies to your texts, his persistent drowsiness, and the random bruises. You feel like an ass for being cold towards him when he's risking his life every night for the city. Not to say that you like the idea of your boyfriend running around beating up criminals during the night, but the fact that he is so selfless while you aren't makes you feel terrible.

"No... I should be the one who's sorry," he says and there's a sense of hesitancy in it, like he has never said those words before in that order. Still, you detect his sincerity and accept it.

In a moment of impulse, you pull away from the hug only to rest your hands on his covered cheeks and to press your lips against his. You tilt your head, the hard nose of his cowl pressing against your cheek. The pain goes unnoticed, your mind more preoccupied with how much you've missed his lips on yours.

As his tongue runs through the seam of your lips, coaxing it open, he pulls away as though he remembers where you are. Almost to placate you for the loss of contact, he runs a hand down your hair, petting you like a doll, a faint smile on his lips. It's a peculiar sight seeing the Batman with an expression other than stony emotionlessness or rage. The fact that you're the reason why makes the butterflies in your belly flutter even quicker. It makes you feel special.

"I'm bringing you home. I'll be there when the sun rises."

For the first time, you're not dejected nor disappointed unlike the other times you've uttered those words as you reply with a small grin tugging at your lips.

"Alright, Bruce."

[acciotaitlynn]

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ fresh smut, ft. our favorite fishie & star boy

❤︎ lately you, rafayel, and xavier have grown much, much closer…

❤︎ seaside threesome, prob too many feelings, blowies, pussy eating, basically raf&xav have it down bad for each other, & you rlly like to watch them get it on

❤︎ 4,129 words

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆛

The moonlit sea glistened, its waves whispering softly against the shore in a calm and hypnotizing rhythm. You rested on a blanket beneath the sky, Rafayel and Xavier close beside you.

You traced the constellations with your fingertips, counting as many as your eyes could find.

You’d just come back from a month-long assignment in a neighboring country, and for the first time since you left, you finally felt calm. Being around the two men was like a balm to your soul, easing the weight of the horrors you’d witnessed while you were away.

‪“I like it here… You can actually see the stars,” Xavier said softly, his voice gentle as he reached out, pretending to catch a star in his hand. He shifted to his side, eyes soft as he mimed a kiss in your direction. Tiny balls of light kissed yours and Rafayels cheek before gently dissolving into nothing. “Yeah. Stars seem to burn brighter over the sea,” Rafayel replied, rolling over to mimic Xavier’s position, their large bodies surrounding you.

They gazed down, their eyes bright and hazy from too much wine, a soft blush ghosting across Rafayel’s cheeks. His hand brushed across your face as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Speaking of shining, you’re brighter than the whole sky, cutie.” You felt your own cheeks flush as his thumb lightly pressed against your lower lip.

Xavier took your hand in his, fingers interlacing as he gave you a comforting squeeze. “We missed you, you know,” he said quietly. “I know, I missed you, too,” you whispered, returning his squeeze. Xavier moved closer, his palm cradling your face as he kissed you deeply.

You felt another pair of hands exploring the curves of your breasts, teasing the sensitive tips with gentle flicks of his fingers. Your body arched off the ground, drawn toward Rafayels touch. Xavier captured your whine with a smile, before gently sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, releasing it with a faint *pop*

“We’re done waiting. Let us show you how much we missed you, yeah?” Rafayel said, his eyes bright with need.

Xavier positioned himself behind you, “Sit up for me, angel,” he commanded gently. You obeyed and he slid his legs around you, pulling you close as his chest pressed against your back. His arms encircled you, too, wrapping you snugly in a secure cocoon. He slid a finger under the straps of your dress, tugging them down to expose your breasts to the night air.

Rafayel settled between your legs, lifting up your dress and skillfully slipping off your panties. He brought them to his nose, breathing in deeply as a quiet groan escaped him. Sliding them into his back pocket, he spread your legs wide, his eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you. He trailed soft kisses and teasing bites along your thighs, your heartbeat quickening as his mouth drew closer to your center.

“Hang on, Raf,” Xavier’s palms traveled from your ribs to your pussy, spreading your folds wide. “I’ll hold her open for you,” he grazed a finger over your entrance, “She’s already so wet for us,” he murmured, awe evident in his tone. Rafayel shot him a quick grin before striking swiftly, plunging his tongue into your pussy, eagerly slurping up your dripping arousal.

Xavier bent down, grazing your ear with the tip of his nose before pressing soft kisses down your neck and across your shoulders. You watched Rafayel as he licked the tender skin around your clit, leaving it glistening with spit. “Always tastes so good,” he mumbled, his words barely audible. He dragged his tongue in broad, flat strokes over you, stopping occasionally to trace small circles with the tip on the spot he knew you loved best.

“You make me feel so good, Rafayel,” you told him, dazed, your hand reaching out to cradle his cheek. He groaned against your sensitive skin, the vibrations sparking a trail of tingles up your spine.

Xavier switched to holding you open with two fingers instead, freeing his other hand. He leaned in close, his warm tongue tracing the curve of your ear. Resting his cheek against yours, he focused his attention on Rafayel, reaching out and grazing his fingertips along the other man’s jaw before threading his fingers through his hair. “He’s such a good boy, isn’t he?” Xavier murmured in a wistful tone, his gaze half-lidded with longing.

⟡ You felt your focus fading, your mind retracing the steps that led the three of you here.

ㅤׂ𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

You had crossed paths with Xavier long before you ever met Rafayel, and you were already head over heels for Xavier by the time Rafayel came into your life, but that didn’t stop him effortlessly charming his way into your heart.

It was simple for him, really, since your heart had been his all along.

When Rafayel told you who you really were to each other, you went straight to Xavier, admitting both what was said and your growing feelings for Rafayel. His hurt was painfully obvious and you remember thinking that you’d never been so ashamed of yourself, especially since, despite everything, Xavier understood the importance of the bond between you and Rafayel.

After all, you and Xavier were connected in a way that went beyond time and space, too.

So Xavier allowed your relationship with Rafayel to grow… You were careful to maintain a clear separation between the two of them, but months later, Xavier crushed that dream, suddenly suggesting you invite Rafayel over for dinner… Now that he realized Rafayel wasn’t going to just fade away, he figured it was time to meet the guy. Truly, he’d only wanted to make sure that you were safe and that Rafayel wasn’t some kind of weirdo.

Unexpectedly, a strong friendship grew between the three of you, and during a particularly drunken night, you’d casually suggested a threesome. They, just as inebriated as you were, were quick to agree. Their devotion to your body had been so seamless, every movement in sync.

It wasn’t until hours into your lovemaking that you noticed the glances they were stealing of each other. You braced yourself for jealousy, but instead, the look in their eyes only fueled your arousal.

Then you’d been in this very scenario weeks after that, but then it was Rafayel holding you close, and Xavier’s soft tongue tracing over you. You’d looked up at Rafayel to find his gaze intently locked on Xavier, a dreamy look in his eyes.

You gave a soft tug on Xavier’s hair as you guided him away from you, rising to your knees and beckoning for them to come closer. When they were on either side of you, you’d moved back. They had looked at you in confusion, and you’d simply taken their chins and brought their heads closer together. A flicker of understanding had passed through their eyes, Rafayel wasting no time, his mouth capturing Xavier’s in the span of a single breath.

⟡ Now, in this moment, you no longer know where one of you ended and the other began, you had become a seamless whole.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒𓆡 ⭒ㅤ𓈒ㅤׂ 🫧

Xaviers cerulean eyes followed Rafayels every move.When Rafayels tongue slid inside you, slurping up your nectar with an indecent noise, Xavier’s breath caught, his grip on Rafayels hair tightening. Rafayel let out a small grunt as he raised his head.

His eyes sparkled with an ethereal mix of ultramarine and magenta, captivating you and Xavier with a single look. He worked his finger in and out of you slowly, stretching you, before slipping in another.

His eyes slid to Xavier. “Please, I want to see you too,” he pleaded with him softly. Xavier cupped his cheek, Rafayel leaning into the touch as a soft smile curled his lips.

Xavier stood and slowly peeled off his clothes, you and Rafayel sitting there, speechless, your eyes locked in place. Xavier possessed a slender frame, defined by lean muscle and sharpened by centuries of combat. He appeared even more angelic under the evening light, with his silver-blonde hair and pale skin, he shimmered as brightly as his evol. You rolled your eyes. “He’s too perfect, this is basically showing off,” you said. Rafayel snorted in amusement, “I’m not complaining," he replied with a shrug.

As soon as Xavier released his thick length from his boxers, you both burst into cheers. He raised an eyebrow, glancing your way. “You’re both ridiculous,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but you like it,” you shot back. “Maybe… but only most of the time,” he answered with a grin, sitting down beside you.

Rafayels teeth grazed the mound of your pussy, before he rose to his knees and slid over to Xavier. Xavier’s attention was on Rafayels hands, watching as Rafayels long fingers glided along his thighs. “What do you wish to witness this time, cutie? Tell me what I should do to our little prince,” Rafayel teased, his attention turning to Xavier.

You pouted at him, your voice laced with feigned annoyance. “I want to play too, Rafayel,” you told him as you tossed a dramatic eye roll his way. Xavier worked his hand into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “Consider me your toy then, made just for you,” he murmured to you. A gentle hum of happiness bubbled from your lips. You stretched out on your stomach, placing warm, open mouthed kisses along his shaft. You steeled yourself for his imposing size, swirling your tongue around the tip, before sinking down slowly. You felt your breath hitch, biting back a choke when he was fully seated inside.

Rafayel tugged your dress off, his hands squeezing your bare ass the moment he discarded it. He placed a kiss to each cheek before slipping his fingers back into you, working them in and out with a delicate rhythm.

He kissed Xavier deeply, while his thumb traced slow circles on your clit. You settled into a slow bob on Xavier’s cock, your other hand firmly kneading his balls. Rafayel cupped the back of Xavier’s head, guiding it to rest against his. “Is she making you feel good?” he murmured softly into Xavier’s ear. Xavier tenderly ran his fingers through your hair. “She always makes me feel good,” he replied truthfully, thrusting his hips to push deeper into your throat. “Tell me then, who makes you feel best— our princess or me?” Rafayel teased.

You nipped lightly at Xavier, silently warning him that the answer had better be you. He gave a soft, amused laugh. “See? Absolutely ridiculous,” he said, as he gave Rafayels head a teasing shove.

Rafayel made his way between your legs again, replacing his fingers with his mouth. He captured your swollen clit between his teeth, sucking deeply. Your thighs locked around his head as you shamelessly grinded back against his face.

Xavier gave a small grunt of satisfaction at the sight of you riding Rafayels mouth. “Just like that, beautiful girl… Cum all over him,” he whispered, his voice desperate and thick. Rafayel let out an agreeing growl against you, his tongue moving with quick, urgent motions. He spread your asscheeks wide, gripping them tightly in his palms.

The sensations were almost too much... Rafayel’s mouth on you, the way it felt to have Xavier’s cock stuffed down your throat— with his hands on your body and his filthy praises in your ear.

Xavier gripped your hair tightly, slamming his cock impossibly deeper. Tears gathered in your eyes as you choked around him, struggling to breath. “So. Fucking. Perfect,” he said, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust. Your pleasure built and peaked, sending powerful shudders through your body as whimpers spilled from your lips. Rafayels fingers kept their pace while his mouth lapped your cum up diligently. When you came down, he pulled out, watching your muscles clench around his missing fingers as cum seeped out of your tight hole. With a light smack to your ass, and a light tap on your head, he said, “Good girl. Now step aside, it’s my turn.”

You slid Xavier’s cock from your throat inch by inch, placing a little kiss to the top once he was free. You sat up and kissed him before nestling by his side. Xavier looked down at you, his smile radiating warmth and love. Rafayel was opening Xavier’s legs, preparing to lie down between them, when Xavier caught him by the wrist. “No chance. Clothes off,” he gave a slight tilt of his head, wordlessly signaling, as Rafayel let out a light chuckle.

Now it was yours and Xavier’s turn to watch Rafayel in wide-eyed fascination. He slid his shirt off, tossing it carelessly aside, his gaze meeting yours as he unfastened his belt. Raising an eyebrow, amusement clear in his smirk, he teased, “Enjoying the view?” His belt joined the scattered clothes on the sand, his hands pausing when they reached his zipper. His eyes narrowed as he asked, “Well?” at your lack of reaction. Xavier let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “You already know the answer to that Raf, no need for us to inflate your ego further.” you told him. Xavier gave a soft chuckle in response. “Okay, rude,” Rafayel quipped before turning away.

As Xavier’s gaze followed Rafayel undressing, you took him in your hand, hawk-tuah’ing on the tip of his cock, as you set a firm rhythm with each stroke. “F-fuck.” Xavier breathed, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. You leaned into him, savoring the heat of him in your hand and the softness of his lips on yours. Xavier glanced up again, his lip catching between his teeth at the sight of Rafayel.

He’d removed his boxers while you were distracted, his striking length demanding attention. While its size was definitely notable, the real highlight was its sleek, sculpted form that gave it a refined elegance, in harmony with the man himself. Rafayel grasped his pretty cock in his hand, stroking firmly as he sat down in front of Xavier. He met Xavier’s gaze, his grip tightening as he asked, “is this what you wanted to see?” Xavier gave a slight nod, his throat working as he swallowed hard. You pressed your face into Xavier’s arm, stifling a giggle at the sight of his flushed red ears.

Your attempt at silence was futile though, as Rafayel soon teased in a mocking tone, “You blush so very pretty, princeling.” Xaviers eyes widened in surprise and he quickly looked away, clearly stung by the remark. Rafayel leaned forward, cupping Xavier’s chin and guiding his face back to him. With a soft kiss he murmured, “Just teasing, silly. Though it is the truth,” before positioning himself between Xavier’s legs. You withdrew your hand from Xaviers cock, and pressed a soft kiss to Rafayels cheek. He smiled, his voice playful. “Alright, cutie, now watch how it’s really done.”

A deep groan slipped from Xavier’s lips as Rafayels mouth closed around him, his tongue swirling over the tip to catch the precum that seeped out. On a whim, you backed away, settling into a spot where you had the perfect view of them. Xavier reached out for you, but you shook your head. “I’d rather watch you two play... Just pretend I’m not even here,” you said as you slid away, your eyes sparkling with amusement. Xavier’s teeth sank into his lip again, stifling a groan at your request. His leg bent at the knee as he propped himself up on one hand, reaching out to touch Rafayels cheek with the other. “Your pretty lips look so perfect wrapped around me,” Xavier said softly, his tone filled with admiration.

Simply watching them had turned into one of your favorite pastimes, often more enjoyable than being a part of the act. They were just so smitten, particularly Xavier, who often gazed at Rafayel with such raw affection. And the exploration of each other's bodies was still a new adventure for them both, always just as sweet and endearing as it was enticing to watch.

Xaviers hand grazed Rafayels neck as it traveled downward, his thumb brushing over the tip of Rafayels cock, gathering the precum beading there. He brought it to his lips, eyelids fluttering shut as he sucked it clean.

Rafayel kept Xavier stuffed deep, staying still like that for a long moment. He started to make bob gently, with tiny, controlled up and down movements, throat contracting around Xavier’s cock to a purposeful rhythm. “Fuck, Raf,” Xavier rocked upward, grinding his hips as he buried himself deeper in Rafayels throat.

You let your fingers wander slowly until they found their mark deep inside you. The quiet whimper you let out drew Xavier’s eyes toward you, cursing softly when he noticed where your hand had ended up. You began to pump your fingers in and out to a toe curling pace. Xavier let out another breathy curse before turning his attention back to Rafayel. Rafayel looked up, his eyes finding Xavier’s.

“So, did you reach a verdict on who's better yet?” Rafayel teased. “Just be quiet and suck my dick,” Xavier told him, his lips curling into a soft smirk. Rafayel stuck his tongue out in mock defiance before his mouth returned to its task. He began to bob his head up and down but Xavier suddenly stopped him, running his fingers through Rafayels hair, gripping it lightly and pulling him to his knees. Rafayels lips formed a playful pout as he glared at him.

Xavier found himself entranced by Rafayel’s face, his beautiful eyes glazed over and lips swollen, slick with spit and Xavier’s arousal. “Are you sure that I’m the pretty one?” Xavier said with a wistful tease, his eyes full of affection. He slid his free hand up to cradle the back of Rafayel’s neck. “Stay still,” Xavier commanded him, pushing his cock back into Rafayels mouth. He gripped Rafayel’s hair, angling his head for better access. He filled Rafayel’s mouth with deep, steady thrusts. “Such a good little Lemurian, doing as he’s told,” Xavier murmured in praise.

Your core pulsed painfully at the scene unfolding before you.A quiet whine slipped from your throat, your other hand reaching for your clit and massaging hard.

Rafayel palmed his cock, pumping rapidly as he gazed up at Xavier. Xavier angled his head, watching Rafayels hand forcefully gliding along his own length. He hummed his approval at the sight, his grip on Rafayel’s hair tightening and his thrusts picking up speed. “Can I come inside?” Xavier practically begged. Rafayel gave an eager nod around him, face blushing a deep pink.

Xavier gripped Rafayel tightly as a powerful wave of pleasure crashed through him, his body shaking with the force of his release. Rafayel happily swallowed every drop of cum that Xavier gave to him, still fisting his own erection harshly. Xavier pulled out of Rafayels mouth, cum still dripping from his cock. His finger lightly rested under Rafayels chin. “So good for me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Rafayel flashed him a smile before rising to his knees. “Lay down,” he ordered Xavier firmly. Xavier blushed deeply, obediently lying down as Rafayel instructed. He kneeled at Xavier’s head, Rafayel’s thighs spreading wide as he straddled him. He lightly tapped Xavier’s cheek with a playful slap. “Just be quiet and suck my cock, yeah? Can’t say I’ll be too gentle after that one,” Rafayel said.

Xavier gave him a grin full of playful defiance. He reached for Rafayels cock, his fingers giving it a gentle squeeze. “I can make it up to you,” Xavier breathed, his tone sensual and sincere. “I know,” Rafayel replied, giving Xaviers cheek another little pat.

Rafayel’s eyes lit up as he looked in your direction. “Enjoying the performance, princess?” You furrowed your brow in mock consideration. “I’d say it’s an 8 out of 10,” you answered. Rafayel’s eyes danced with mischief, a slow, seductive smile circling his lips before he turned his gaze back to Xavier. Your pace quickened, fingers pumping desperately into your soft, plush walls.

Rafayels fingers lightly traced Xavier’s lips. “Permission to do whatever I please with you?” he asked, his tone laced with need. “I suppose I’ll allow it,” Xavier exhaled softly. Rafayels fingers threaded through his hair, as he leaned down, capturing his lips in an adorable kiss. Xavier’s eyelids fluttered shut as Rafayel planted little kisses on his eyelids and cheeks, ending with a delicate kiss on his nose. Rafayel gave Xavier a soft, adoring look. “A masterpiece,” Rafayel murmured, admiration clear in his eyes as he gazed at the man beneath him.

Rafayel’s gaze hungrily consumed Xavier’s form, just as yours drank them in from the shadows. “Touch yourself for me,” he commanded Xavier gently. Xavier’s throat tightened as his hand trailed down, gripping his length tightly. Rafayel released a low, satisfied noise. “Just like that.” he murmured. “I love seeing you do that for me,” he shakily added, eyes fixated on Xavier’s hand.

Then with a firm shake of his head, Rafayel seemed to collect himself, his voice hardening as he playfully ordered, “Open wide!” Xavier’s wide, obedient eyes met his, his lips parted and tongue outstretched, waiting for Rafayel. He guided his cock into Xavier’s mouth, slowly filling his throat.

You breath caught, a sharp gasp escaping you. Rafayel’s position had him hovering over Xavier, fucking deep into his throat, a sight so intoxicating it left you dizzy.

Once fully seated, Rafayel reached out, gently running his fingers along Xavier’s throat, tracing the outline of his cock bulging beneath the skin. A groaned “Shit” slipped from him as his hips started to move, his palm lightly hovering over the shape.

Letting go of his cock, Xavier wrapped his large hands behind Rafayels knees, tugging as if to draw himself closer. He let out a frustrated growl when he realized that was as pressed against Rafayel as he was going to get. “So needy, little prince,” Rafayel teased, chuckling in amusement. Xavier responded by lightly sinking his teeth into Rafayel’s cock, earning himself a startled little squeak and a slap on the cheek. “Careful, cutie. Fish can bite, too,” Rafayel warned with a smirk, lowering himself to take Xavier’s cock into his mouth. Xavier didn’t hesitate, his hips bucking up eagerly to meet Rafayels warm throat. “Nope, nuh-uh,” Rafayel hummed, “you’re going to stay still,” he said, before his head bobbed down again.

Rafayel’s movements in Xavier’s mouth grew increasingly desperate, hunger driving his relentless rhythm. Xavier choked on Rafayel’s cock as it drilled into his throat, tears beginning to blur his vision. You had watched Rafayel cum enough to recognize the signs that the end was near—desperate to finish with him, you quicken your pace, fingers thrusting and massaging with as much force as your body can handle.

Your plush walls begin to tighten as Rafayel takes Xavier’s cock as deep as possible, his movements slowing as he cums with three powerful thrusts. White streams of cum spill down Xavier’s throat, he swallows with a satisfied hum, climaxing into Rafayels mouth with a release even stronger than the last. Rafayels thrusts slowed to a languid rhythm as he and Xavier rode the last waves of their pleasure.

Your eyes fluttered back as a jolt of pleasure ripped through you, almost agonizing in its force. Your head fell back with a cry, hitting the tree behind you as your pussy twitched uncontrollably around your fingers. The pain was a distant blue, swallowed immediately by the intense pleasure, and when you came down, a serene, satisfied feeling settled deep in your bones.

Rafayel and Xavier made their way over, taking hold of your trembling body and easing you back onto the blanket. A pillow cradled your head, and before long, their warmth surrounded you as they lay beside you, enveloping you in their heat once again.

A gentle touch traces your cheek, and though curiosity stirs, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy, refusing to open. They tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, followed by a soft kiss to your forehead. “Are you satisfied, Miss?” Xavier’s playful voice comes softly, as soothing as your favorite lullaby. You nod, nestling closer against him, a soft sigh escaping as his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Get some rest, we’ll wake you when it’s time to go home,” he said, wrapping a blanket snugly around your shoulders.

You attuned to the rhythmic whisper of the waves once more, their quiet melody lulling you to sleep with each whisper against the shore.

The stars above twinkled, casting a serene glow over the sea as constellations turned slowly in the infinite sky.

Rafayel reached for Xavier, their fingers entwining, hands resting gently above your heart.

[whereforarthur]

It's Been Way Too Long

Request: id love a george smut, perhaps one of us have been rlly busy like all summer and barely had any time to see each other so when it gets to september time (ish) we havent realised how much we miss each other

Pairing: George Clarke x Reader

Category: Smut

Word Count: 2.2k

*****

“I think I'd miss you even if we never met.” —��The Wedding Date

The London skies were a canvas of soft grays and muted blues, hinting at the promise of rain. The bustling streets below were a blur of umbrellas and rushing footsteps. Amidst the thrum of the city, a solitary figure sat on a bench in a small, overlooked park, a patch of green nestled between concrete giants. George Clarke, known to the internet as "The Clarke Cut", was a man of sharp contrasts. His online persona was vibrant, full of life and humor, but in this quiet moment, he was lost in thought, his eyes reflecting the weight of the world.

For months, George had thrown himself into his work, leaving little room for anything else. His YouTube channel had grown exponentially, the demands of content creation an ever-hungry beast that consumed his days and nights. The price of success had been steep, and he felt the cost keenly as he stared at the empty space next to him, where you, or y/n as he liked to call you, should have been. The vividness of your laughter and the warmth of your smile had been replaced by the cold metal of the bench, and the echoes of the city's cacophony.

The first leaves of autumn began to dance around him, a sad ballet of nature's end and rebirth. The chill in the air seemed to mirror the chill in his heart, a stark reminder of the seasons passing and the time lost. You had been his anchor, a steady presence that kept him grounded amidst the chaos. Without you, the city felt like an alien landscape, one he was navigating for the first time without a map.

George pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. The urge to hear your voice washed over him like a wave, but fear held him back. Would you be upset? Would you even have time to talk? With a sigh, he sent a text, keeping it light, hoping it didn't betray the tumult in his soul. "Missing you," it read, with a simple heart emoji. It was all he could manage.

Minutes ticked by, the silence stretching into a symphony of unspoken words. His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. It was you. "Miss you too, George," it said, followed by a smiling face with a tear. His heart clenched at the sight. You had felt it too, the distance that had grown between them like an invisible wall.

The rain finally made its appearance, lightly kissing the leaves before turning into a steady rhythm against the pavement. George didn't bother moving, the cool drops a soothing balm on his heated skin. The scent of wet earth and the faint smell of rain-soaked flowers filled the air, a familiar comfort that only heightened his longing for your presence.

As the drops grew heavier, his thoughts grew clearer. He knew what he had to do. Success meant nothing if he couldn't share it with the one who truly mattered. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the path ahead. He had to make time for you, to prioritize what truly made him happy. The rain grew into a crescendo, each drop a beat in the rhythm of his newfound resolve.

Standing up, George tucked his phone away and took a deep breath, the rain soaking his clothes and hair. He'd rearrange his schedule, make the calls, and do whatever it took to bridge the gap that had formed. With a renewed sense of purpose, he stepped into the storm, the cold water mixing with the warmth of his determination. The city around him blurred as he set off in the direction of your flat, eager to feel the warmth of your embrace and to apologize for his neglect. The rain washed away the dust of the summer, leaving behind the promise of a fresh start, a chance to rekindle the flame that had been smoldering between them.

By the time he arrived, the rain had become a downpour, turning the streets into rivers and the air into a thick mist. He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing in anticipation. The door to your flat stood before him, a symbol of the comfort and love that waited within. He took a moment to compose himself, wiping the rain from his face before knocking softly, his breath hitching in his chest.

When the door opened, the sight of you took his breath away. You looked tired, your eyes a bit sad, but the moment they met his, a spark ignited, lighting up the room. The silence stretched between them, filled with the unspoken words of regret and longing. Without a word, George stepped inside, closing the door behind him, the sound echoing through the small space like a declaration of intent.

You stood before him, rain-soaked and beautiful, your hair clinging to your face like a veil. The air was charged with tension, the kind that comes from months of missed moments and unspoken truths. He reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, the touch sending a jolt through both of you. Your eyes searched his, looking for reassurance, for a sign that he truly meant it. And in that moment, George knew that he had made the right choice. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both desperate and gentle, a silent promise to never let you go again.

The kiss grew in intensity, a conflagration of passion that had been smoldering for too long. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer, as if trying to erase the space that had grown between you. The world outside the flat disappeared, leaving only the two of you, entwined in a dance of love and apology. The rain outside was now a mere backdrop to the symphony of your hearts beating in unison, a testament to the fact that no matter how busy life got, you two were destined to find your way back to each other.

Breaking the kiss, George whispered, "I'm sorry. I've been so caught up in work, I forgot what's truly important."

You looked up at him, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, your voice a soft melody that soothed his soul. "I understand. But I missed you. So much."

He cupped your face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the stray teardrops. "I missed you too. And I promise, from now on, I'll make more time for us."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'd like that."

With the storm outside mirroring the tumult in their hearts, George took your hand and led you to the couch. You sat down together, the fabric warm and welcoming against your cold, wet clothes. He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into his side, and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

The sound of the rain grew softer as you talked, sharing stories of the summer's escapades and the moments you'd wished you could have shared. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of your relationship back together, stronger than before. The warmth of the room began to seep into your bones, chasing away the chill of the rain and the months of separation.

As the conversation lulled, George reached over to the coffee table, picking up a notebook and a pen. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words and doodles that chronicled your life together. "Look," he said, pointing to a page filled with sketches of the two of you in various stages of laughter and love. "I want to fill this book with more memories. Starting now."

A blush crept up your cheeks as you took the notebook from him. The promise in his eyes was more than you could have hoped for. With a shaky hand, you wrote, "September 15th - The day George realized what truly matters."

Underneath, he scribbled, "And the day I came home to you."

*****

The moment was filled with the quiet understanding that sometimes life gets in the way, but true love always finds a path back. The rain outside had slowed to a gentle patter, as if it too knew that the storm had passed and that now was the time for growth and renewal.

George's hand slid down from your cheek to your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He kissed you again, this time with a hunger that had been building for months. Your bodies pressed closer, the warmth of your skin a stark contrast to the cold fabric that separated you. The rain had made the air thick with desire, and you could feel the heat radiating from George's body, his need for you palpable.

Your hands found their way under his shirt, feeling the dampness of his skin and the tautness of his muscles. The sensation sent waves of electricity through you, and you realized just how much you'd missed the simple act of touching him, of feeling his heart race in response to your touch. His hands roamed your body, exploring the curves and valleys that he knew so well, yet somehow felt new and exciting. The rain outside had become a soft, rhythmic backdrop to your reunion, a natural metronome setting the pace of your passion.

As you kissed, you both began to peel away the layers of clothing that had kept you apart, revealing the warmth and desire that had been trapped beneath. Your skin met with a sigh of relief, like two long-lost friends finally reunited. The couch cushions grew soggy with rainwater, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the connection that surged between you, a current more powerful than any storm.

The smell of damp fabric and the gentle scent of your perfume mixed with the musk of passion as you became lost in each other. The storm outside had brought you back together, and now, you were determined to make the most of every moment. The sound of the rain grew fainter as you became more attuned to the sound of your breaths mingling, the beat of your hearts syncing up as one.

George lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom, his eyes never leaving yours. The floorboards creaked underfoot, a gentle reminder of the history you shared in this space. You knew every inch of this room, every crevice and corner, but it had never felt more intimate than it did in that moment.

Laying you down on the bed, he hovered over you, his gaze intense and filled with love. The soft light from the streetlamp painted shadows on the wall, playing across your bodies as you moved together in a dance of passion. The thunder outside rumbled in the distance, punctuating the silent promises made between kisses and caresses.

Your bodies intertwined, the coldness of the rain forgotten in the warmth of your love. The room was filled with the sound of the rain, the sighs of pleasure, and the whispers of sweet nothings that meant everything. The storm outside mirrored the intensity of your reunion, each flash of lightning illuminating the passion in your eyes, as if the very sky was celebrating your reconciliation.

The rain grew softer, the thunder a gentle reminder of the tempest you had weathered. As your bodies found their rhythm, the storm outside seemed to mimic your own, building to a crescendo before subsiding into a gentle lull. You lay there, tangled in the warmth of each other's arms, the city of London a silent witness to your love.

In the aftermath of your passion, you both lay still, listening to the fading patter of rain and the steady thrum of each other's hearts. The world outside had continued to turn, but for a brief moment, it had stopped for you both. You knew that from now on, no matter how busy life got, you would always find time for each other, because you had just survived the storm, and the calm that followed was more beautiful than any summer's day.

You leaned up to kiss him softly, tasting the salt of the rain and the sweetness of your shared love. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice a mere breath against his skin.

George smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "For what?"

"For reminding me what's important," you said, your eyes searching his. "For coming back to me."

He kissed you again, his arms tightening around you. "Always," he murmured, his voice a solemn vow. "I'll always come back to you."

The room was a cocoon of warmth and love, the storm outside a gentle lullaby, as you both drifted off to sleep, the sound of the rain a soothing serenade. Hours passed, the city's heartbeat growing quieter as the night deepened. When you awoke, the rain had stopped, leaving a freshness in the air that seemed to cleanse the very essence of the world. The scent of wet earth and the faint sound of distant cars washed over you, bringing with it a sense of peace.

******

@gvf23

@xxkatxgracexx

[thatdeadaquarius]

imagine if reader is given an ancient scripture from around the time humanity founded out how to write and do the alphabet (somehow it was preserved so well that you can still see the words with no issue)

and it's the most heart wrenching, soul crushing, tear inducing, hyperventilating, sanity disappearing angst, misunderstandings, hurt/no comfort, it gets worse but never better, major character death, unrequited love story to have ever existed in teyvat.

and after reader goes through the whole thing, they can barely talk or breathe properly with how much they're crying.

(even better, it was smut not angst and reader is staring ar the scripture, jaw dropped to the floor with shaking hands.)

STOP- I avoid fanfics like that at all costs 😭 id stop reading it after the first angsty event LMAO

Im like... too emotionally affected by fanfics, esp angst ones 💀

Its just, ppl who write closer to my generation or just very psychologically honestly, are like fucking deadly writers. Got my day ruined and shit w/just fanfics 😭

LMAO THE GIF IS JUST YOU ON THE SPOT NOT EVEN HALFWAY THRU-

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short! Headcanons-ish

Stars: my first of the Fontians!! Fontainianes? Fontainains?? u get it

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: sobbing, discussion of vague smut/NSFW book at the end, okay for Teen/Mature audiences, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

no but it’d be hilarious if u got this crazy like hand-width deep tablet for each “page” of the book, like how every novel or info in genshin is like one page at a time 😭

Sumeru and other international academics are literally constantly harassing politely requesting your translation of these and sending them to you in whichever country you’re visiting at the moment

Fontaine was even more complex and pretty in real life than it could ever be in game and i can def see you at like Neuvillette’s office or a nice french fontaine cafe and just WHAM

huge ass tablet bc as much as the fic tortures you, you have to know what the fuck happens to these miserable idiots

Neuvillette, Clorinde, and Lynette are all the type to immediately try and dissuade you from reading it again, bc from their point of view you just pull out this huge old rock and start sobbing quietly about 10 mins into the read every time 😭😭

(unsurprisingly, Neuvillette would even go so far as to get the Marechaussee Phantom to sneakily steal ur most recent tablets of the story to hide them, which sucks for you LMAO)

Freminet, Wriothesley, Navia, Lyney, and Furina,all frantically try to distract you, and also theyre in order of who would be the most dramatic w/it lmao

NO BC I JUST HAD THE THOUGHT-

Ur tears absolutely are top priority to Neuvillette and Furina so when they inevitably find the memories in them (and the traveler too maybe)

of what the story is about, except its like all the feelings and stuff, so like its the best “translation” they get of the book so far, u best believe it rains for a week straight

it started out as a light drizzle, but as Neuvillette “read on” in ur tear’s memories if got worse HAHA

mans is out here trying to convince himself like, “this is a classic tragedy from eons ago, its about a human romance, im definitely unaffected, though im glad i could figure out what ails My Majesty so”

meanwhile the story gets worse and its just like that meme “ohHHhhhHH its got a little kiicckkk”

Neuvillette nearly floods the streets by chapter 5 when the miscommunication happens and then they cant get in contact with each other to fix it lmao

LMAO I JUST HAD A VISIONNN

ur in fontaine and while yes drinks were popular (like obv fonta)

business is rlly booming bc now everyone you know (like the Vision-users or archons Neuvill, etc) all have develop this habit of having a water bottle or drink on them to offer you when u start reading to rehydrate you 😭😭😭

Navia, Clorinde, Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Lyney, Lynette all have a handkerchief on them at all times too 😭😭

Good God-

the moment you translate the now instant Shakespearean-level tragedy classic, it is a known tear-jerker thruout all of Teyvat,

like theres trigger warnings and age limits and shit 💀

◇

on another note,

if its smut,

ur desperately combing thru all the tablets and wall carvings and cave paintings to try and lowkey cover it up LMAO

and its not like a story with a smut scene either, its like what anon said,

just fully like the ao3 tag “Porn What Plot/Porn With Plot”

STOP

not u yanking the tablets out of Neuvillette’s hands when he curiously picks them up one time lmao

(he is now invested in getting these translated too bc of ur reaction lol)

☆

consider supporting me with an iced coffee? :0

Spooky Season! Spooky Season!! Spooky Season!!!

still not dead btw

just got hired at my new job so ive been training and busy!! :)

im a host at Olive Garden lol its weird and kinda hard, my feet hurt a lot and i havent had a full shift yet ;-; its a brand new one so it opens the 23rd

dw that eldritch one shot is still coming btw, just talking with betas and editing it now lol

hope if you read this you have a great upcoming weekend!!

Safe Travels Anon,

💀♒

☆

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657

[supernova41st]

Scent 🕯️

Tf2 mercs scents

A/n: I was gonna say something about Medic shaving but then I got flash banged by that one picture of him with the hairy chest.

Scout

He took the term “cologne king” and ran with it.

He puts on like 10 sprays of cologne every morning guys it’s bad

Tries to cover his sleep stank with cologne every morning but it’s very much there

He does use deodorant because he’s not THAT stinky (tho spy is the one who forces him to wear it)

“Scout, did you put on your axe this morning?”

“ughhhh I don’t wanna 😒”

Uses 2 in one because he’s lazy asf. He’ll only use the good stuff if it’s from spy.

He doesn’t rlly care for face care, he uses the same bar of soap he uses to wash his ass and it works fine surprisingly

His rooms smells kinda musky but it’s subtle,it mostly comes from his mattress that he’s been using since childhood (which he barely fits on)

Heavy

Have you’ve ever been inside the car of a guy who works out frequently? Yeah

He smells musky asf, he does sweat a lot so it makes sense!

He has a subtle Cinnamon smell to him, no one knows if it’s from something he uses or if it’s natural

If you ever give him a hug god rest your soul cuz all your gonna be huffing in that day is his scent.

Def uses Dr squatch deodorant cuz he’s classy like that. Wont use cologne unless it’s a gift from someone

Spy

You’ll never catch this man being stinky, EVER.

He uses the good shit, Le Male Elixir, showers every night, and every now and then has a Smokey scent to him.

Scout begs and begs for his cologne but he’s a gatekeeping king so he won’t budge.

“SPY PLEASE JUST GIMME THE NAME”

“Absolutely not.”

“CMON-SPY WHAT ARE THE TOP NOTES? WHERE DO YOU NORMALLY SHOP??”

His shampoo has no scent + he doesn’t really care for buying the expensive stuff cuz his hair is always covered anyways.

His skincare is pretty good, uses face wash serum and moisturizer. No anti-aging stuff tho, he personally thinks aging is a privilege.

Pyro

If you can smell these two photos, you’re smelling pyro

Medic

He just smells like a hospital, but when finishing a mission he smells like straight blood.

His hospital smell mostly comes from the latex gloves he has to wear, the blood smell is from surgery’s or brutally killing enemies. (Obv)

Definitely doesn’t mind getting blood on him, so if you complain about the smell to him he’ll shrug it off.

Cologne wise he’d use something minty, he’d only ever use it when going somewhere fancy. Other than that he sees no use for cologne.

He’s quite high maintenance, so he never stinks nor does he necessarily smell good. He just smells like.. medic.

Demoman

You’ve ever took a whiff of milk to check if it’s expired? Yeah.

Sorry but he does not gaf, there’s a puke stain on his shirt from like a week ago + he uses pretty cheap cologne.

Def uses Irish spring cuz I said so, it fits him.

Would have a sleep stink but getting a sleep stink would come from a bed, lord knows he’ll make it to his bed before passing out drunk.

He doesn’t shave, he uses child safe scissors to cut his beard 😭 someone help him.

Engineer

ITS BAD.

but it’s also like, hot?

He had that garage workshop scent, he’s also sweaty cuz of course he is. For god sakes he’s in his 50s and doing garage work he shouldn’t be doing that he should be sitting down and having a fucking glass of water.

No cologne for him, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, that being all the sweat he collects from making shit he probably shouldn’t be making !!

Showers at night cuz that’s when he gets all the sweat off, he takes those piping hot showers that would burn off a normal persons skin off.

Sniper

He hangs around piss jars all day, I’ll let you do the rest.

No sleep, no cologne, just him. He just smells like rain and spoiled milk.

His camper van smell interesting to say the least, it’s not necessarily clean so it just smells like straight coffee, not the good kind.

He’s not that musty! He is quite hygienic.. in a way

He had a skincare routine, and spends half and hour in the shower cuz he ends up dozing off after a while <//3

He does NOT play about that skincare routine btw, if he sees a pimple he’s tracking down what he used to cause it.

Once he does he’ll use it as target practice lol

Soldier

This guy smells like 1000 things at once.

If you took a whiff of him he’d smell like straight dirt at first, but then it somehow transfers to a wet dog kind of smell, with a hint of oil.

*need a cologne of that

If you offer him deodorant/cologne he’ll deny it. He says that the way he smells is how god intended

His helmet smells FOULL, if you take the tiniest sniff you’re gonna pass out.

[alanisinstone]

so i've had a channing tatum obsession since step up and a magic mike one since the first and i just thought this little shit up so. uh yeah. read at ur own risk mfers

18+ content

so male stripper bakugou who works at the best club there is in Tokyo really, has the hottest guys, the skimpiest outfits, the best liquor, its clean and sexy in there, and the music isnt corny (think the weekend and shit😛). so you come in there because ur girl wanted to do a girls night (she’s crazy) and you didnt really want to go but your therapist has been telling you that you should get out more.

so you go and you feel kinda out place and uncomfy a little because (for the sake of my fantasy) you’re not rlly the party type. ur not like bible thumper but ur just reserved. in general you like reading and picnics and flower arrangements and sunsets. so this isn’t rlly ur scene yk. but the tip of the iceberg of things that people would never suspect about you, is that you are desperately shoving your cute little fingers in your cunt every night searching for release. and you literally want it so bad but your own fingers just never seem to be enough for you. you just wanna get railed like a cheap whore and then loved like a queen.

and there’s like, little nuances to ur personality for example you’re a little bookworm, but like 75% of the books you’re reading are very explicit eroticas. and you like going to the beach at sunset but only because that’s when you can somewhat discreetly strip bare and finger yourself to some good graphic smut or skinny dip (you’re dying to go to a nude beach). and you’re always going to little quirky thrifty markets but partly so you can brush your cute, tight little booty up against the men (married or not... its for scientific purposes) staring at your tits from across the way, innocently urging them to get a peak of your lingerie down the front of your shirt or under your SHORT SHORT skirt (you only dress like that when you’re extra desperate tho, you dress pretty normal on the reg. it’s part of ur unsuspecting hottie thing).

so inside you’re like a little sex kitten, but outside you’re too shyyyy 🥺 to make any moves. then out walks katsuki. you’re sitting pretty on the black velvety half circle couch with ur girls, smack in the middle of it. you have on like a tennis skirt and a no sleeve, collared polo. you’re over there giving country-club-virgin-daughter-of-the-mayor and all ur friends are giving saturday-night-slut. anyways.

kats comes out giving TYLER GAGE but you can see he has like a thong on under his cargo pants. and it’s the first act you guys have really seen since u sat down and settled, all ur friends are hollering like banshees, and ur tryyingg to keep up your “oh my, this is so unsavory, how raunchy!” thing but the way hes LOCKING eyes with you and humping the stage is making you start to loose your composure.

so he’s doing his little moves or whatevah, lookin fine as hell. the crowd is already going crazy and he’s not even been out there for two minutes, so he decides to like spice it up a little. he sees you trying to act all nonchalant and it makes you stand out amongst your friends so he jumps of the stage and gets on top of you grinding and shit and he’s leaning all over you like "hey mama you havin fun" all up in ur ear, and you're like "umm, i mean, this isn't really my scene you know..." bashfully looking away. And you can feel him literally staring into your soul like he is STARING YOU DOWN, and its making you so shy and wet as fuck at the same time.

so the snap-back comes off and all the sudden its on your head and the shirt is coming off (hes still grinding on you and doing his little choreo) and he places your hands on his washboard abs and you are fully like "oh shit. this couch def has a wet spot on it" and hes whispering all low in your ear like "you like that shawty" and you're speachless. so he gets up and does the pants-rip-off thing and he has a literal thong on that is not containing anything. and he jumps up on the couch and grabs your head and pushes it against the back of it and is fully humping your face.

at this point i would have fully been grabbing HANDFULS of his ass and licking his shit fr and i like to think you would be too.

now hes straddling your face and his hand is all up in your hair, looking down at you like the sexy motherfucker he is and hes like "well I think a little fun would do you good, you look like you need to loosen up babe." and his dick is like right in your face, his thighs, his v-line, happy trail, you can literally see his balls, and you're drenched and flushed at this point and he can practically smell you.

so he does a flip off the back of the couch or whatevah.. comes around, grabs your cute hand thats been in your lap since the beginning, tugs you up off the couch and picks you up, legs around him. everyone is cheering and your still wearing his hat as hes walking you to the private room....

AAAAAHHHHHGJVGGHH BARK

likes and reblogs appreciated!

©  alanisinstone 2023 — do not steal, plagiarize, or modify my content.

[sixosix]

girl (/gn) i totally get you esp about being a xiao kisser.. like?? imagine being so down bad for your main but you can barely write him as good as you do for the rest of your faves :')) BUT BRO (/gn) I SERIOUSLY LOOOOVE ALL YOUR FICS!! the moment i found you, binged each n every one >:)) it's okay, xiao will find his time to shine, so much so that you'll feel super proud once it happens.

ANYWHOOOO!! here is the brainrot that i got, i really hope that i sent this at a good time, otherwise feel free to just let this float away~ (also i'm so, so hooked by thawed. lyney had absolutely no right to be so delulu over the reader- I LEGIT GIGGLED WHEN LYNETTE SAID PROPOSED TO THE READER COME AWNNN!!! lyney, honey, i will shake you by the shoulders.)

promise by laufey, right?

i personally think this song has such a very.. hurt, hurt, hurt, comfort and then more hurt, but at last, comfort vibe. it fits both boys - both lyney and aether. they are so magnificent, shining brightly on their own- one on a stage and the other across nations. pulling away from them hurts like a bitch, because their love felt like a warm embrace that burned like a bandage each time you tried to yank away.

being with them was like heaven. being with them brought you the kind of joy that eternal paradise would supply. being with them .. archons, being with them felt like their mere presence could shelter you away from the darkness of the world.

and it hurts to be something.

because being with them meant danger. meant arguments- ones that neither of you can win. it spelled disaster with each wound, and caused misery with each day left alone to one's devices. being with them meant that you were forced to watch your stunning significant other play a perfect part in a life you don't think you fit- oh, you've done the math. there was no solution, and there was no way to force you — a mere extra puzzle piece — to fit their masterpiece.

yet it's worse to be nothing with them.

ok n then that's the end of my brainy brainrot.. the second last verse in the song:

So I broke my promise

I called you last night

I shouldn't have, I wouldn't have

If it weren't for the sight of a boy

Who looked just like you

Standing out on Melrose Avenue

can you imagine just how beautiful it would be to imagine a scene where you taught you mistook the sight of the one closest to your heart, and in an act of desperation and longing, you try to hurry and contact them. shaky hands and shivering figure, your heart practically weeping with overdue worry and grief of your past relationship, only to find them also looking for you- as if it was fate. clinging to each other and pouring your hearts out into the only two souls that could hear you two.

AHHH THAT'S IT THOO,,, hope you didn't mind the brainrot, i totally really just "hm user sixosix would very much enjoy this idea methinks" BUT I DID NOT PLAN THIS OUT VERY WELL. hope you're having a good day, afternoon, evening, night!! ❤️

HI!!! i see ur reblogs a lot so its rlly rlly nice to see u interacting more and more often! :D im soso happy u like thawed. that series is my baby. ALSO its rlly cute u thought id like this idea BC I DO!!! wow. U get me.

your writing is soso pretty :( ITS POETRY!!! i love it and how u captured the feel of the song (which is just pain) and the “you were forced to watch your stunning significant other play a perfect part in a life you don't think you fit” OHHH!!! thats the shit i live for. realizing that you dont fit in w the life he lives in. Pain.

what i think is that this song fits aether the most !!! OUUUGHH you knowing that aether has to leave teyvat eventually but u cant help but long for him THATS THE GOOD SHIT “we’ll never last / why can’t i let go of this?”

“i made a promise to distance myself” BC u know that you have to stop caring so u dont get hurt when he leaves!!!!’

this song is beyond perfect tysm for sharing this w me!! Ough now i may end up writing this and blame it on you bc its so perfect 😭😭😭

[blueberry-mufffinz]

ROBLOX OCS

Okay Actually Wait Before I COntinue Okay So I Like. For One Dont Think Too Hard About The World Around Them Bc I Know Its Roblox But Also Me N My Friend Just Made Shit Up On The Spot Second I Really Like These Guys But Idk If Theyre Like. Cringe Or Whatever So Uh. If They Are Block Me Or Smthn I Guess Sorry Man Anyways This Bouta Be A Long Ass Post So Literally Everything Undercut

GITE

Okay So. Gite, Along With Their Counterpart Who I'll Take About Later, Originally Was Just. An Outfit I Made Using A Bunch Of Items I Had On Hand. Then My Friend Had Me Turn Them Into An OC Which Is Actually What Started This Entire Thing And Goodness Gracious Do I Have A Lot Of Little Guys Now>

Notes

Maasssivee Fucking Yapper. Does Not Stop Yapping Worlds Biggest Yapper

Theyre Very Headstrong And Also A Littleee Tiny Bit Obnoxious Man Oh Man I Sure Do Wonder Why(Yapper)

Gite Plays Whatever (Roblox)Games Reck Plays, Originally Played Obbies

Poor Understanding Of Personal Space, Also Thinks Reck Should Be More Friendly And Talk To People

Uses Sarcasm Somewhat Often But It Always Sounds Friendly Or Passive Aggressive

Cannot Fly With Their Wings

This Guy Dont Rlly Got Much Lore So I Wont Like Make A Dedicated Lore Second For Him But, Okay This Is Where The Like Worldbuilding Gets Confusing But Bare With Me Here Okay, Gite And Reck Are Counterparts Because They Were Like. Spawned(??) At The Same Time In Cribs Next To Each Other. As Those Little. Pill Baby Things Life In Paradise Style Yeah

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

RECK

Same Thing With Gite Reck Was Originally An Outfit Then Turned Into An OC I Honestly Dont Rlly Like His Wings But Aint No Way Im Buying New Ones When I. Actually Buy The Outfit Because Genuinely I Only Own Gite's Outfit Out Of All These OCs

Notes

Far More Introverted(???) Than Gite, Doesnt Yap Nearly As Much More Of A Listener

Pretty Calm And Chill Guy Honestly, Just Vibin'

Listens To Music Literally Whenever Possible, I Would Say 24/7 But Not 24/7 Because Gite Exists

Plays A Lot Of Tycoons Usually, But Also Sometimes Jumps Around To Try And Avoid Gite(Gite Keeps Finding Them)

Also I Think Reck Has That Retail Worker Tiredness Like In General I Think Reck Works Retail

Thinks Gite Needs To Back The Fuck Off And Learn Some Personal Space

Very Firm With Their Boundries. If Theyre Unhappy Or Uncomfortable With The Things Youre Doing Theyll Let You Know.

CAN Fly With Their Wings

Gite&Reck Notes

There's Some Notes That Apply To Both Of Them So Like-

Gite And Reck Like. Dont Like Each Other. They Dont Hate Each Other But They Sure As Hell Dont Like Each Other

Theyve Never Said They Hated Each Other But Sometimes They Call Each Other Annoying

I Think Maybe Perhaps I Havent Decided Honestly That They Become Lovers At. Some Point I Dont Know When

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

DRAGON LOSER/FLORAL

Okay YEAH I Know Her Name Is A Little Mean But Like. For Context Some Of These Guys Get Names Based On Experience And Like. Itll Make Sense Soon I Swear

Notes

Plays A TON Of Dragon Games, Primarily Dragons Life And Dragon Adventures

Floral Is More Like Their "Roleplay" Name So Technically Her Name Is Really Just Dragon Loser, DL For Short Btw, But Dont Worry About It

They Have A Minor Liking For Fishes, But Its Mostly Dragons(But If Something Is Like- A Fantasy Sea Dragon She Goes CRAZY Over That Stuff)

She Incredibly Friendly And Will Just Walk Up To People And Start Talking Which is Probably Why She Thrives In RP Games So Much

Her Name Doesnt Effect Her In The Slightest

Can In Fact See Despite Their Eyes Not Being Visible

The Paint Is Actually Because Their Head Is Constantly Spewing Paint And Its Actually The Reason They Have A Hat On But Yeah Wiping It Away Wont Help With Anything

Chains Are Purely Aesthetic

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

SOUL WANDER

This Guy I Made Like Purely As A Rival Of Some Form For My Friend's OC, Who Ill Be Calling F Because Yeah Also Im Shortening SOUL WANDER(yes its capitalized like that every time)'s Name To SW Because There Is No Way Im Typing That Every Single Time

Notes

Mysterious Guy, Fairly Quiet And Speaks In Vague Terms. Sometimes Riddles If He Feels Like It

Also He's A Little Smug

Ghostwalker(yes the SFOTH sword) Fanboy If You Couldnt Tell By The Shirt

Fucking HATES F, Like Knife Through A Picture Of Him On A Wall Type Of Hate. Does Not Like That Guy In The Slightest

Drops The Whole Vague Thing When Talking To F For Reasons I Genuinely Have Not Figured Out

Lives Alone And Also Doesnt Friends

And He's Also Poor Barely Paying For His Apartment And Food(I Dont Even Know How He's Making Money Honestly)

Like Genuinely Sleeps In A Corner With A Single Blanket Like I Feel Kinda Bad And He's My OC

Literally He Doesnt Even Care Either We Love Poor Self Preservation/j

Practically Half-Blind Pretty Much Also Taking Off Those Bandages WILL Flashbang Him He's Had Them On For So Long

The Face Shadow Thing Is Some He Can Do Entirely At Will

Used To Own A Cat

Ngl I Forgot To Write This But He Plays SFOTH Primarily And. Yeah Thats It Honestly

Lore

Look At That First Guy To Have Actual Thought Out Lore Lets Go Wahoo When SW Was Younger He'd Participate In Like Illegal Fighting Rings Or Whatever To Make Money. Nobody Is Supposed To Die But He Accidentally Kill A Person(Who Is An OC Ill Talk About Later) Once Near When He Started Because He Went To Into A Blind Panic And Punched Them To Death. Uh. Somebody(Also An OC Ill Talk ABout Later) Close To This Person Took Revenge Against SW And Brought A Knife Into The Fight In A Attempt To Blind SW, It??? Half-Worked Because The Sight In His Covered Eye Is Really Blurry(Eye Wasnt Punctured Fully But Got Damaged). This Situation Is Also Indirectly The Cause Of The Whole Vague Thing He Does, Because The Person Who Almost Blinded Him Is Tracking Him Down And Trying To Get Information On Him And SW KNOWS That So He Speaks Very Vague Because He's Paranoid As Fuck. ALSO! He Used To Own A White Cat He Named Spirit But F Stole Spirit When He Was Drunk And Then Kept Her So Now SW Thinks Spirit Is Dead But Actually F Has Her And Renamed Her Sparkle. SW Feels Really Bad For Failing To Care For Spirit, Used To Sacrifice Eating To Feed Her. Anyways Somewhere At Some Point In The Future SW Finally Gets Tracked Down, Cause Its Guarenteed To Happen At Some Point, And Gets Like Entirely Blinded I Drew Art Of Him Actually Ill Put All The Art Of These Guys At The End I Swear Anyways Yeah Gets Fully Blinded And Also One Of His Head Wings Gets Chopped To A Nub Also He Cant Do Whatever The Hell He Was Doing To Make Money Anymore So He's Homeless Again(Forgot To Mention He Was Homeless When Younger) But Its. Significantly More Difficult Now That He's Blind. And Also The Paranoia Is Still There Because He Literally Cant See And Also He Goes Entirely Silent Stops Speaking Completely GOODNESS I YAPPED SORRY!!!

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

CAUTION: HAZARD

This Is The Guy Responsible For Almost Blinding, Eventually Fully Blinding, SW. Im Callin Him C:H For Short Because Again Im Not Typing All That Shit Out. I Dont Actually Have A Lot On This Guy or His Brother So Hopefully This Is Shorter Than SW's Section

Notes

Him And His Brother Are Aggressive In Nature, Hence The Whole Caution Thing

Barbarically Aggressive

Played Like. A Bunch A Ro:Bio N Shit With His Brother

Lore

C:H Watched SW Kill His Brother In The Fighting Ring, Overheard SW Talking About How He Went Into A Blind Panic And Decided "Why Dont I Make Him Actually Blind" So Uh. Yeah. His Plan Is To Catch SW Off-Guard In An Isolated Area Which Is Difficult Because Of SW's Paranoia. Has Sent People To Try And Get Information From SW Or Get Close To SW, So SW's Still Persistent Paranoia Is Valid

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

CAUTION: RADIATION

This Is The Guy That SW Accidentally Killed. Callin Him C:R Because Long Ass Name. He's Not A Ghost Or Anythin Btw But If He Was He'd Be Actively Cheering C:H On Also Dont Have Much Information With This Guy Sorry

Notes

Yeah He Played Ro:Bio With C:H

And Again Yeah Naturally Aggressive

C:R Is More Sinsterly Aggressive If That Makes Sense

The Toxic Waste On His Head IS Apart Of Him The Barrel Is Not, Barrel For Aesthetic

Toxic Fumes Naturally Eminate From His Mouth, It Doesnt Smell Like Anything But Again It Is Toxic So Mask Holds Filters It Out

He's Immune To It Though So Its Okay

Lore

Not Much Lore Honestly But Basically Like. What Happened Is He Got Punched In The Gut Rlly Hard Which Winded Him Or Whatever Like Out Of Breath And Then Punched In The Jaw So Broken Jaw And Then SW Just Kept Punching Him Til He Died He Did Not Expect, What Percieved As, The Dumb Scared Kid To Straight Up Kill Him

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

ABNORMALITY/MORPHO

Okay Last One I Swear Anyways Morpho Here Is Based Of Abnormality Dancin' Girl. I Was Listening To The Song And I Had A Vision™ And Went On A Spree Making Them

Notes

Okay To Start, I Will Be Using They/Them For Them Because Theyre Good With They/Them Pronouns Yes Thats Fine But Internally They Naturally Refer To Themself With It/Its For Lore Reasons

MASSIVE People Pleaser Like REALLY REALLY Big People Pleaser Its Genuinely Detrimental To Their Mental Health

Also A Social Chameleon To The Extreme, Changes Their Personality The Way They Talk And They Way They Dress Just To Fit In With The People Theyre Talking To

Used To Play A Lot Of Simulators And Tower Defense Games. Especially Tower Defense They Were Pretty Good At Those

Lore

Morpho Doesnt Really Know Who They Are Anymore. Theyve Been Changing And People Pleasing For So Long That They Dont Even Know If Theyre A Person, Thinking Of Themself As More Of An Object On On A Stage All Of This Changing Is Literally Like Physically Tearing Them Apart The Switching And Trying To Be Someone Thats A Them They Dont Know Is Physically Destroying Them They Cant Stop Though, Theyre So Tired And Nothing Feels Good Anymore But They Just Cant Stop. Theyre A Ticking Time Bomb Waiting To Die, Waiting To Scatter Into Thousands Of Blue Butterflies Even Then Their Efforts Will End Up For Nothing. The More They Switch And People Please The More They Fall Apart, And The More They Fall Apart The More People Leave, Which Then Causes Them To Change And People Please Even More And Try Even Harder Which Makes Them Fall Apart More And Its Just A Downwards Spiral Speeding Towards Their Death. Uhh. All Of This Started From A Person(I Might Leave This Person Unknown), Who They Were Really Really Close To And Told Everything To, Ghosting Them Suddenly And Leaving Them For Someone Else

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

Art Time Yippe Hoorayy

This Is Gonna Go In Order, Also As A Note I Have Not Drawn DL, C:H, C:R, OR Morpho Yet. I Will Ebventually Just. Later.

This Next One W/ Gite And Reck Is Like A Comic Sortve I Made It Rlly Late At Night And Its A Situation That Will Happen At. Some Point Idk When. Dialogue Is Messy im Bad At Dialogue.

I Love Making Angst Of My OCs :)) Anyways Gite Yapping

I Cant Believe I Forgot To Put This Ill Just Put It Here But Reck Does Not Listen To A Word Gite Says A Majority of The Time. Gite Can Say The Most Out Of Pocket Shit Ever And Reck Will Go "Uh Huh Yeah" And Reck Wont Even Notice Until Gite Points It Out

Anyways SW Art Yayayay

Silly Little Video Of What Happened Heehoo Also Last Frame PNG Bc Yeah

Also Here's That Blinded SW Drawing I Promised

Okay Sorry For Yapping Those R All My Guys Wahoo

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Wait THE PONYS SO CUTE??? WTF?? NAME?? Also I’m crying I could be blind so correct me if I’m wrong but is that also a pile of horse shit in the middle pic but either way SHSSH SO ADORABLE those big eyes staring into my soul

AHAHA dw whenever I think abt that gif I think about you <3 but also you’re actually serving the side character community fr ykws funny I was just thinking about rereading bfb Otoya because I was somehow reminded of those expensive cupcakes

LMFOAOAAO YEAH CLOSE ENOIGH HES THAT ONE COORDINATOR CONTEST JUDGE hes indeed elderly and he’s at evened contest and his only comment is some rendition of “remarkable” LMAOOO (dw idr his name either)

Crying there’s so many hair style options they rlly had to go with the ugliest ones

When I read wc my first thought was word count then I realized that didn’t make sense and was like oh ok World Cup? And then I thought abt it again and realized that’s also wrong now ik you mean wildcard goodbye

LMAO FR Karasu with his jaw on the floor like “you didn’t want this baddie????”

YUKI LOOKED SO GOOD IN THAT STREET SOCCER PANEL??? Why didn’t they ever elaborate more on that skill in the main series though they also barely did anything with his gyro shot like HELLO?? Are we not gonna talk abt how insane that skill is I need like spinoffs for every major side character atp epitabieitaken when

No bc wc and Kunigami exploration has sm potential…Lowk I see kaneshiro getting flamed everywhere from ppl being like “this is shit guys” and uhh idk how reliable their info is bc it’s. Yk. The internet fandom. But apparently kaneshiros also focusing a lot on some really weird random other series which is why people are like “you’re writing about the wrong balls!!!” (It’s apparently called like ball girls or something?? I have no idea lowk it’s supposedly really weird from what I’ve seen in the posts I’ve scrolled past)

REAL pause you’re so right abt that it’s giving jjk culling games arc…I remember first reading that and they kept introduce relatively irrelevant (or at least imo irrelevant LMAO) side characters that we barely ever saw again or were rlly just randomly tossed in (im still salty about him never elaborating on Inumakis backstory like bro we literally got everyone except him) SO REAL he should’ve gatekept the ng11 and tbh that would’ve given more opportunities for more bllkers to actually play and evolve like with the ng11 in its like they’re too good that only the top players can keep up but it leaves no room for other people who have potential to evolve or anything like…ig that’s like half in line with bllks idea of like survival of the fittest but idk i personally would’ve enjoyed seeing more characters we alr know get developed instead of having them just be dropped off the face of the planet

Kurona was truly SO random…it makes me wonder if maybe it was just because they thought yuki didn’t fit the popular character trope enough so they shoved kurona in (from what I’ve seen kurona is way more popular than yuki I lowk dk why though) I think we just have the same brain because I literally could not care less about the u20 players (sendous spotlight should’ve just ended in the match showing how the bllkers beat him and went past what Japan had deemed to be their number one striker/ace) that ALSO would’ve given more space do develop of more characters I honestly don’t rlly vibe with how they mixed the teams like that it would’ve been interesting to see u20 as potential rivals maybe but just flat out inserting them into bllk seems weird…like they could’ve held a tournament later on after the whole bllk program to decide who from u20 stays and who else goes I just wish they gave more bllkers the chance to actually train and do shit in bllk (this rant is getting LONG)

HEVDSH it’s ok this is a Barou household not a Kunigami one

You fr just subconsciously had these parallels cooking it’s just embedded into your writing style also WAIT KARASU OLDER BRO you’re onto sth….imagine y/n’s first thought is “your hair kinda reminds me of my cousins/brothers” LMAOO reader having galvantula is fr like me grabbing one super effective pokemon against one elite four to carry me because I never catch pokemon of that type (i fr cannot remember off the top of my head which one it was but wtv) I’m crying the magikarp scam is really funny LMAOOOO

Plot twist pokemon govt is in cahoots w the evil team which is why they’re ass!! Anyways

Nagi’s growlithe rolling in the mud while chigiri and reos pokemon stare as they get groomed is so real (the mc team dynamic >>>>)

I need to go back into our convo and look and what you gave him bc I alr forgot I’m leaving this here as a mental note and I’ll come back to this but FR lowk if we’re following some of the bllk canon dynamics imagine they’re from the same town where the flying type gym is and the wanna hiori has is a product of his parents giving him a like top pedigree ducklett so he can become gym leader and then e4 and champion etc I can imagine him bumping into Karasu working with his reject pokemon and Karasu’s like damn that’s an extraordinary ducklett and hioris like I wish I could just have fun with a bunch of nice pokemon (now I’m imagining the ducklett has an attitude at first like those typical rebellious pokemon and it continues into the swanna phase until some point idk I’m getting too invested into this verse)

Ok that’s funny because I got like 80% of the way through Sun and then stopped playing LMAOO I’m already world building in my head this crossover is too peak…ok but WHO would cook their pokemon poffins I have some ideas but can’t fully pin one person

I WAS JUST THINKING THAT OTOYA COULD USE A CROAGUNK FOR TBAT PURPOSE wait I almost forgot that misty Lowk plays that role before croagunk is actually created?? Guys Tullia Otoya are just misty and Brock

NAGI AND READER IN A PERIOD DRAMA LMFAOOOOOO but REAL gotta Gatekeep to build anticipation (and to also not keep you on the grind like that your to do list would be never ending)

SHDGSHSHS crying I’ll be mentally preparing myself for more wild stories about your rizz and AWEE me fr when I scroll on tumblr and see a response to a long ass ask (our convo)

- Karasu anon

HE IS LITERALLY THE CUTEST SPARKLIEST PRETTIEST MOST ADORABLE PONY EVER literally whenever i get the chance to show him (he’s older and doesn’t leave the property where he lives anymore so we only do the shows that our barn hosts) the judges always tell me how adorable he is like he’s actually perfect (he’s also really lazy so he’s made my legs sooo strong just because of how much i have to push him along 😭) and yes that is in fact horse shit in the middle photo LMAOAO he was kept in his stall overnight so he didn’t get all gross and ruin his braids before the show 😩 his name is cloud (although he also goes by cloudie LMAAOOA that’s what i usually call him because he gives way more cloudie energy than cloud energy yk) and i literally love him sm 🤩 he’s like the polar opposite of the horse i owned in high school (he was an ex racehorse so he was HUGE) but i like not needing a step stool to groom him before my lessons so no complaints here

PLEASEEE i love how expensive cupcakes are otoya’s legacy KFFHSJA i can never walk past those overpriced whole foods cupcakes (not that i ever go to whole foods but ykwim) and not be like damn ik for a fact eita would buy those for me

HAHAHA i think he also has a program on the pokétch in oras like judging contests or smth?? iirc he’s also there in the games judging contests occasionally i just solely remember him from the pokétch but YEAH we’re thinking of the same dude skfhdjsjs

HELP if it makes you feel better i think i also use wc to refer to the world cup in a later paragraph so you weren’t too far off 😭

no because yk hollyhock karasu would definitely be like “no you don’t get it bro she’s lowkey insane” and bllk karasu would just be like “even better 😍” he is NOT going to fumble the bag

STREET SOCCER YUKI WAS SO COOL i almost wish they gave him a more rough and tumble backstory too like maybe he was from a worse area of the country and grew up just playing soccer on the street and getting in trouble until he was scouted for his good looks as a model and that plus his soccer skills were enough for him to move to a better city or something?? and once he escaped his previous situation he learned how to be super polite and kind in order to prove he’s better than his past and deserves a good life just as much as people born to it…it would also add some continuity if he MUST go crazy in NEL like it’s just him reverting to his childhood personality when put in a stressful situation instead of him randomly crashing out at isagi for no reason and then never doing anything again (with this backstory the reason why he’s chill post manshine would be a combo of him respecting isagi as well as doubling down on his efforts to remain calm and composed because the brief lapse made him feel very guilty and ashamed of himself…then an ego awakening that mirrors hiori’s [in an au where he replaces kunigami’s role in isagi’s two gun volley against pxg] is him realizing “wait i kind of NEED to be a bit of an asshole if i want to be a starter and make a true mark on the field” or something along those lines)

LMAOOO no because from what i know literally every other one of kaneshiro’s mangas besides bllk (lowkey including bllk) are batshit insane he’s kind of a weird guy lowkey 😭 honestly he’s doing a pretty good job with bllk though i don’t think it’s shit at all (especially compared to a certain manga that’s about to end atm) just there’s definitely things i would change too!! but at the end of the day it’s just an entertaining manga abt hot soccer freaks so it’s not that deep yk

100% all ng11 players should’ve been left until much later (excepting sae ofc because he’s there to serve a narrative purpose plus he introduces us to the whole ng11 concept) but anyways…as for the u20s agreed they should’ve left them all out to show how blue lock has surpassed them!! then ONLY exception is aiku (not just because of the oaeu he’s genuinely a good player) i would’ve liked to see him disappearing after the bllk vs u20s match (maybe he fucks off to sweden for a vacay or smth) and then when the u20 world cup team is announced he’s on there as he’s the former captain of the u20s as well as an absolutely INSANE defensive player…maybe ego contacts him and is like “ok bro icl you’ve got mad ego even though you’re not a striker wanna join the crew and not give up on soccer for good???” ALTERNATIVELY: it turns out he has dual citizenship so after the old u20 boys are kicked out and their soccer careers are ended or whatever he disappears and then we see him again in a u20 world cup match against sweden!! this could be a match where the aiku vs barou rivalry established in the ln is settled with barou getting his get back 🤩

LMAOAAO ig my internal self knows where home is (nagi) i can’t escape him 😩 and YES THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WAS THINKING TOO “my cousin used to use hair products to spike his hair up too 🥹” “tf does that have to do with me 😟⁉️” and then he literally adopts her as his baby sister 😭 it allows for plenty of karasu bonding and affection without him being a second lead and complicating things…also i think he’s going to be the one to find reader w barou’s body after her houndoom kills him so that’s a parallel for sure there ☝🏻 LMAOO no literally like i still remember my first ever pokémon game i could NOT beat the champion for some reason so i literally caught a random haunter, taught it destiny bond, and revived one of my other pokémon so when the champion’s last pokémon beat my haunter i still had one pokémon left and i was able to win DKFHSJSJSN that’s the vibe galvantula gives lowkey (in all honesty that’s why i picked it…i needed smth strong against water types because so many of readers pokémon [like donphan and houndoom] are weak to them but i ALSO wanted something that was strong against dark types because of barou’s all-dark type team and i didn’t want reader to have many basic pokémon which meant all of the fairy types were basically out and that only left bug!! however bug-grass is such a shitty typing because 4x weakness to fire is just 😰 and galvantula is the only bug-electric i think so that’s what she got!! but i have such a clear picture of the final fight with galvantula against barou’s sharpedo bro i wish it could be animated because it would be so beautiful 🤩)

HAHAHA magikarp/gyarados and aegislash are tied for craziest acquisition stories (i’ll talk more about aegislash’s in a sec) but basically a fisherman convinces reader she NEEDS a water type so she’s like “oh word ok what do you have” and he’s like “trust this will evolve into something powerful” and she’s like “aight bet” and gives him a (probably rare) pokémon in exchange for a MAGIKARP (cue karasu screaming at her for ten minutes straight and her being like “no it’ll evolve 🥺” and resident pokémon expert tullia being like “uhhh magikarp are almost impossible to evolve LMAO good luck”)

okay wait that could actually go hard…the pokémon government creating the evil team in order to make themselves look better + make people who have valid criticisms of the system unable to voice those concerns (“you think people shouldn’t be thrown into pokémon training without preparation or assistance purely to survive? YOU MUST BE PART OF EVIL TEAM”) i feel like corruption is touched on but it expanded as much in the anime and games (it is a bit in the manga iirc) it could be a really cool conflict that’s a bit deeper than the typical evil team wants to end the world scenario…it also kinda explains how they were able to find and utilize barou’s body in time despite being an “underground crime organization” that shouldn’t have as much funding as they do 😰 and if we go the murder route it’s also an explanation for how someone as strong as him was killed as well as another reason WHY they murked him (couldn’t have barou as champion because barou cannot be controlled) WAIT and maybe that’s why reo’s dad is champion instead of noel noa — noa is stronger but he believes that there should be changes with the way things are done so the government is like “yeah no way you’re going to be champion” and they literally threaten him into faking a loss when he tries to become the champion because they LOVE mr capitalism mikage being the champion as he’s very easily bribed to do and say exactly what they want???

team mc’s dynamic is SO FUNNYYY especially because the nagireo codependency is nipped in the bud as reader awakens nagi’s desire to battle relatively quickly so they’re all on equal footing (except for the fact that their crew is actually reo + his sugar babies you KNOW he’s paying for everything) they definitely have their own crazy adventures while they’re apart from reader and co too…another scene i can envision is nagi challenging reader to a battle and being like “btw i caught a new pokémon” and reader’s like “oh word 😳⁉️ me too” and she releases her little joltik expecting nagi to pull up w like a zigzagoon or smth else really basic and he just casually tosses out a cleffa (i think the clefable line is canonically from the moon in-verse) so she’s like “er wtf” and from the sidelines chigiri’s just like “yeah idk we were on a mountain and there was a spaceship and all…long story, super boring” meanwhile reader and co are like UM??? and it’s just never elaborated on what exactly happened and how nagi ended up with a literal alien on his team

okay wait karasu and hiori knowing each other from their hometown would actually be hilarious as well because imagine the way the whole fossil arc starts is reader and co find a fossil pokémon (maybe hiori’s amaura/aurorus??) and they’re like WHAT THE FUCK because what even is that and then reader is like “karasu what do we do 😰” and karasu is like “WHY WOULD I KNOW” and reader’s just like “idk you just always seem to know a guy” (kind of like how dads always “know a guy” for no reason) and karasu’s about to argue back when he’s like “wait…i actually DO know a guy 😔” and then they go and find hiori and the fossil arc begins after that…no you’re so real i keep coming up with little details for the verse it’s so FUN

ORDINARILY i would say barou is the poffin baker but for obvious reasons we can’t have that…lowkey yk what would be hilarious is gagamaru doing it 😭 i can imagine him foraging for berries and concocting something that just looks INSANE and no one wants to try it so he’s lowkey a hidden secret but yukimiya swears by him (most popular baker is ness but yukimiya thinks ness’s products are more placebos than anything and insists that reader and co go to gagamaru if they ever need anything because he’ll give them the real unfiltered shit w 0 preservatives and whatnot)

WAIT LOWKEY YES tullia and otoya are exactly like misty and brock (lowkey aiku kinda gives gary oak like he WOULD pull up to research sites in a red corvette with a bunch of random cheerleaders HAHAHA it definitely makes otoya fume too because that should be HIM)

THE PERIOD DRAMA IS BASED OFF OF AEGISLASH’S POKÉDEX ENTRY where they like use hypnosis and manipulation to control people and they used to be used as protectors of royalty in the past?? so basically there’s an abandoned aegislash that really wants a trainer and it senses nagi and reader’s vibes and is like “wait they lowkey could be the ones” so it kidnaps them and puts them in this week long hypnosis where they believe they’ve been isekai’d into a world without pokémon where reader is a princess and nagi is a knight who has to retrieve a magic sword in order to win her hand and they’re like WTF is going on but they decide that the best way to escape will be playing along with the plot (clearly without chigiri reo and tabitullieita there the combined brain cell count is like. two.) so nagi goes on this quest to get the magic sword but then he comes back empty handed because he realizes that the magic sword is actually the sword stuck in the stone #kingarthur in front of the palace so he goes to pull it out but he can’t??? and then he’s going to be killed on the spot for failing and for messing with palace property (it’s actually aegislash mad that he’s not worthy because he did it for selfish reasons) so then reader runs over and manages to pull the sword from the stone in time to stop whoever’s trying to kill nagi…then the crowd goes wild and they’re like all hail the new queen (another aegislash test) but she ignores them and puts the sword away to check on nagi because that’s all she REALLY cares about and aegislash is like “hold on she cooked here she’s like not selfish and is assertive and shit” and then she wakes up in her tent with a pokéball in her hand and tabitullieita are like “hello you’ve been missing for a week???” and she’s like “wtf no i just had a really weird dream but i didn’t actually go anywhere” but then she realizes that the pokéball (which she assumed was houndoom’s since houndoom usually sleeps near her) is actually a new one which means it’s a new pokémon she somehow caught?? so she releases it and tullia’s like “wow an aegislash 😮” but READER freaks out because the aegislash is actually the sword from the “dream”…let’s just say the next rival battle w nagi is a little awkward because he also thought it was a dream and didn’t even have proof it was real until reader quite literally throws the evidence in his face 😶‍🌫️

no because i’ve already done 15 requests for bllk since may and i have 12 more left to do PLUS my own projects so i think having them closed for a bit will be good!! and HAHA i will continue to entertain both fictionally and irl 🫡 our conversations are always lengthy but always entertaining fr wouldn’t trade them for anything!!

[her-canine-teeth]

sugar water by flower face - notes

pov jackie is blue, pov shauna is red

My boy plays a game with my heart on the flatline

idk what to say to that other than 'yeah'

He likes to keep me halfway out

out of her life (doesnt tell jackie abt the stuff she writes abt in her journal) and physically kicking her out of the cabin

You know girls like me we’ve got a slow pulse

lol

Hit the trip switch baby I’m all right

she obviously isnt.

My boy’s got a sharp twist no he’s wicked in the heart

theres rlly not all that symbolism here. references jackies 'coming back wrong' and implies how she like wants to turn shauna to cannibalism, to violence

Feeds me sugar water just to keep me alive

orginial note was 'eating her'. sugar water doesnt really do anything, doesnt nourish; just like the ear. though, in contrast to sugar water the ear makes the hunger be more present (makes shauna aware of it, maybe) (note: idk what sugar water is used for and idk the meaning of it in the song bc i didnt google it. but i interpret it as 'ill give you the bare minimum to keep you alive and sweeten it so u dont know or smht)(update i googled it and i was right at least i think so. sugar addicting etc) anyways yeah jackie feeds shauna herself to keep her alive

Saw him in my dreams again

bridge is like synonymous to dreams to me. probably bc its night i think ive said this before.

He’s wiping down the fingerprints

making evidence disappear; jackie disappears (was never there)

Press so hard I float up to the sky

'press so hard' -> pressure here more or less. floating bc 1 laura lee 2 ascension of the soul after death 3 she looks up and i rlly like that

Hanging round like a puppy til you let me in

just jackie looking at shauna basically. waiting for shauna to come outside n get her (let her in. by coming outside shed not only let her into the cabin but back into her life)

Coming home with a black eye begging for you

shed totally beat sb up for jackie. shes wants her, cant have her (tragedy ensues)

You like to treat me like a child, but that’s all right

the maybe i dont want to wear the red dress and uh yeah shauna does end up wearing it; its jackie telling her what to do and shauna eventually relenting (its not alr as we find out but. yk)

I kinda like it when you talk the way you do

she doess

It’s kind of tripping me up, babe I’ve got it bad for you

she does

Laying back sipping sugar water

(the hug)

I’m so weak for the things you do

yeah

Drop to the floor every time I hear your voice

theyre. laying on the ground

Seeing stars on the borderline

jackie is shaunas star<3 also shes rlly far away, unreachable (dead), different than what she really is (shauna-jackie is sharper than jackie-jackie. stars r not dots)

borderline captures like the flashing lights, loud music, what is real? vibe; jackie is not singular here, shes one of many many people that look like her (more or less). the reality (callie) overlaps with imagination (jackie) here.

Sinking through the floor

sorta fit if u see the water as floor yk

you can find the edit here

[officialdaydreamer00]

Dear Star Child, if this letter could see it's way to Idia Shroud, I would be most grateful. If you could get the gummy sharks to Idia I would be very happy, but the rest of the sweets are for you ^w^

Dear Idia Shroud,

Wow, it has been a while since I've written a letter that's not for school. Nvm, I have never written a letter outside of school; guess I'm finally putting that knowledge to use… Oh where to to begin, I'm rlly bad at doing the whole social thing yet if you would let me I'd be yapping on for eternity but luckily this is a letter and I have to condense it.

Well, Happy New Year! How the sale going? From what I can see into your world it looks amazing especially Ortho's gear. I'm always so impressed that someone was able to make a robotic body that ranged in movement-- here it feels like we just barely started to touch on robotics here, yet you are designing outfits for Ortho like it's nothing. Honest question, did you bless me with luck for the gacha or something did you know I fell like right when the clock hit midnight or someth, but srsly getting three SSRs without even indenting on getting them is something? I had to get a blessing from you or something. My irl would say that is a blessing from you… they have said "At this point I'm scared your obsession with Idia will transport you into the game" well I do wi Imagine if that happened? I don't even know what I would do? I think I would miss my friends but idk if they would miss me.

ANYWAYS, thats sad, moving on. I could have actually missed all of this I could have been boring and sad and still stuck on my utdr phase. Though it wouldn't be too bad Undertale and Deltarune still have th- WAIT YOU ARE A PURE SOUL-- FREE FROM UNDERTALE SPOILERS. Well I know whats happening if I ever get isekai'd. Gosh I would love to actually sit beside you and watch you play games. It's almost fascinating watching someone who is good at games play… Ehe.. I rlly don't know how to end this? Thx for existing please continue to do that.

P.S. Rlly srry for an typos, I wrote this at like 3 am cause I woke up n couldn't go back to sleep.

~ Your moonlight

(HELP ITS 4:30)

oh I LOVE THE BLUE THEME!! had a bit of oopsie delivering this letter but it's all good!! ( ^-^)/ *

Hey Moonlight.

Ugh nvm that sounds cringe please ignore that-- You know I'm not good with this thing either, so I'm gonna ramble if you don't mind. (I hope you don't or it'd be so embarrasing hhhhhhh)

I guess because of our worlds' differences that you'd find Ortho's gears impressive. I mean, I still do, and he's my brother now, he's gotta have the best tech to accomodate his needs. Your world sounds lowkey slow if they haven't even scratched the basics of robotics yet. Still I gotta hand it to them for making a kinda gateway connecting our worlds together.

YOU GOT? THREE?? SSR CARDS OF ME??? IS THAT WHY I KEPT FAILING GACHA EVENTS?? BC MY LUCK WENT TO YOU???? /j but congrats ig. Hope my cards been helping you through the game(?) By the Sevens, that is so weird knowing that I'm just a game character in your world.

But anywho, ignoring that blatant spoiler of fandoms I've never heard of before, for some reasons, I don't exactly mind having someone like you playing games with me beside Ortho. Maybe it'd be easier to breathe than going out and socialise with normies ugh.

Help how do I end a letter Happy New Year, may you be blessed with luck through the gacha system ig.

Idia Shroud

tags: @identity-theft-101 @twistwonderlanddevotee @ameleii @vioisgoinginsane @ferris-thewheel

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works!! ^-^

[obislittleone]

House Of Memories (19/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: lil spicy, but not rlly. Fluff, lil ansgt if u squint. thots

Summary: Obi-Wan begins to think about you differently, good thing you have the simplest distraction to keep him from those thoughts.

A/n: is it getting hot in here? yeah it's definitely getting hot in here ima crank the ac

Words: 1.4k

The man you had come to Scarif to find, and capture had been put in restraints and locked in a small holding cell on the ship, and though you were all ready to leave this planet, Obi-Wan had suggested to lay over for the night, to take a rest and to regroup before the morning.

You were perfectly fine with his decision, racing him back to the room you had been given, and not waiting a second after the door was opened before jumping onto the bed, face first. If the council saw you doing this, they would be very grumpy, but they weren't here. Just Obi-Wan, and even though he normally wasn't as tolerant of stupidity, he held back a chuckle at your antics, shaking his head.

"And here I thought you'd been tired," he shrugged off his robe and hung it by the door, catching yours after you threw it to him and did the same.

"I am tired."

Your giggling fit of exhaustion should have proven that. You remember a time when Anakin came home late like this, laughing his head off and waking you up. You now understood the struggle of fighting against the drunkenness of being so tired.

"Go get ready for bed, and please do try to be quiet. I don't want to deal with complaints in the morning," he ushered you into the 'fresher with your change of clothes, rolling his eyes as you seemed to be stuttering your steps.

Once the door was shut, he quickly changed himself, heaving a breath and letting it out.

He was having a hard time with you, or specifically being around you since the scene in the nightclub. The way you handled yourself was remarkable, truly he was proud of you, he was. But when that Twi'lek girl was talking to you, he realized how truly innocent you were.

She is a pure jedi, never to be had before in her life.

He taught you well, letting you know of the ways of the worlds, but even though you knew of these things, you'd never done them. You'd never been touched, barely been kissed, and only because it was, he who was foolish enough to let his emotions for you overcome him. He couldn't help it, he loved you. Loving you had been a very innocent thing until tonight. Until tonight he was content to share the forehead kisses, hold you close to him after a nightmare, or when you felt scared, or even just when you were lonely and missing Anakin.

It was all different, now. He knew however little experience he had; it he still knew what it was like. To feel someone that close to you, so intimately. He was sure at one point in his life he was in love, but oh how he was wrong. He grew out of it but remembered the only thing clouding his mind was lust. The need to be felt by another human being, to be tangled with them and to give and receive pleasure.

You were unknowledgeable about such things and could not possibly crave it. He was being foolish to think about it, now... but what if you ever asked him? You'd been plenty comfortable to ask him private things before, and he was always comfortable to answer you. If you came to him for answers after tonight, he wasn't so sure it would be just another conversation. Would he tell you it is an activity meant for those who are in love? For those who desire a casual partner? He didn't want to tell you that, not ever. He didn't want to risk you taking it to heart and finding someone who didn't care about you. Not like he cared about you.

He wanted to tell you it was an act of love so deep, that only those who are connected mind and soul would be able to achieve its truest benefits. Perhaps he would, and perhaps you would understand, that no one else was good enough for you. You would know that they could never come close because you were not connected so beautifully.

It pained him to think about this, because he should absolutely not be having a thought like this. He could be expelled from the Jedi order if the council even caught whiff of his thoughts right now.

He couldn't help it, though. The image of you wrapped around him, emitting the sweetest noises while he made the softest, most gentle love to you that anyone had ever before. He couldn't shake it, that perhaps you might one day trust him enough to love you like that, so deeply, and with a purity that was only found in stories.

He was brought out of his thoughts when you stumbled out of the fresher, still laughing, but trying to stop, and huffing silent giggles under your breath. You collapsed on the bed, and he figured that yes, sleep is exactly what he needed to clear his mind. Sleep always refreshed him, and gave him better focus, but it also helped to wipe away bad or unwanted thoughts from the day before.

"Do you need help to calm down?" he sat on the edge of the bed, awaiting an answer, but the most you could do without chuckling was nod very quickly.

He pressed his hand to your head, trying to ease your signature's hyperactivity with the calmness of his own. It took a few seconds for your head to wrap around the serenity you felt, but soon after he was done, you felt yourself be at ease. You were taking deep and steady breaths now.

Obi-Wan tucked the sheets around you before walking around to the other side and slipping in beside you, adjusting his position until he was comfortable with his back facing you. Normally he wouldn't mind being turned around, gazing at your features or playing with your hair until he dozed off, but tonight he only wanted to try and rid himself of the very inappropriate thoughts he was having a small bit earlier.

He closed his eyes, ready to meditate himself to sleep if he needed to, but a shiver went down his spine upon the hand that came into his own strawberry blonde strands.

"Your hair feels softer than it looks," you admitted, not that there was anything wrong with it, but it was probably several years before he last cut it, and the ends must have been needing a trim for a while.

"How does it look?" he suddenly became very self-conscious about it, even if that was not your intention.

"It looks good, just maybe a bit dead on the ends."

The fact that your opinion of his hair was so important to him was a little shocking. Why did he care so much about what you thought? And why of all things, about his hair?

"I suppose I need to find a new style, then," he was tempted to roll over, to play with the lovely locks of your hair, to tell you how lovely it looked when you walked through a windy area. He decided it was best not to do that, especially when he was still trying to quiet other thoughts he had of you.

"Maybe something you haven't done before," you suggested, ready to list a few things off the top of your head.

"What did you have in mind?"

You hummed in consideration before listing something you'd thought about.

"How about you keep it longer on the top, and shorter on the sides and the back?" your hand did a good job of showing him the areas you described as you spoke. He didn't know exactly what it would look like, nor did he care. He would probably do it just because you thought it would look nice. "I think it would go well with your beard, complement it even."

Now he knew, he was cutting his hair. He wanted to look at himself in the mirror every day and be reminded that you thought he looked good. He never cared for his looks. Knew he had them, sure, but never payed much mind to them.

"I'm sure you're right," he reached he hand up, grabbing yours at the side of his head and bringing it around to kiss your palm. He laid it back where he found it, and you continued to shuffle through the soft strands. "Goodnight, little one."

"Night, Obi."

-

Tags:

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[yonemurishiroku]

Did I mention that my Son of Aphrodite Nico wouldn’t be able to use charmspeak because everything he says can only bring either a hint of sadness or downright heartache to others? Because he’s like that, btw.

Of course it’s not always. It’s just that when others pour charm into their speeches, Nico’s voice can not be filled with such thing. He doesn’t say much, but when he chooses to tell you something, it would be a knife cutting open your chest and none of those you feel would be attraction.

He talks about your brokenness - your despair and pleasures altogether. He calls out to the emotions you try desperately to lock away. He clutches at the wringing jealousy snaking in your mind. He beckons the sadness spilling out from your aching heart. He wakes the desires smothered deep at the bottom of your soul.

He speaks of Love and he tells you about your own pains.

So no, it’s not charmspeak. It’s about your heart and soul bare laying bare in Nico’s hands while you listen to him explain all your deepest and most intense emotions of an attraction like a PowerPoint presentation.

Then as it always does, Love fuels your actions, and you act as you desire.

Nico di Angelo sees your Love through your broken glass windows of a heart. It’s fear, it’s hope, it’s hatred and craving and anguish——everything with which Love may torture you.

So you act just like he expects you would.

Nico’s supposedly charmspeak is to look at the darkest side of people’s purest dream and finds a way in there.

It’s fucked up. It’s horrible and it’s wrong. To stab at one’s emotional wounds and take advantage of them like that. So he only uses it on the enemies and sometimes when the need rises - like when he knows one must look deep in their sorrows and learn to move on with it. Those times are when Nico uses it to help people cope better with their griefs, rejections, betrayals and such (because he does, that’s what he makes most out of this, rlly).

It’s still Love. All in all, Nico’s charmspeak still blooms from Love - the barest, most naked form, that is. It’s just that its true form is too much to look at.

[myoddessy]

LONG STORY SHORT | dream of the endless

pairing: dream of the endless x harmony goddess!reader

summary: contrary to your title and your legacy, your life before morpheus was one of strife. and now, with morpheus' hand in yours and his lips upon your skin, you finally allow yourself to reflect.

notes: i will not rest until the sandman with folklore and evermore songs is my official brand. i promised this fic weeks ago but i'm rlly burned out and stressed, ANYWAYS here it is, finally! i lowk hate the ending but i'm not going to fix it so sorry abt that

warnings: angst, people taking advantage of reader's gifts, lgbt!reader but it's only briefly mentioned so you can ignore it if you wish, love at first sight with morpheus 💞💞

word count: 1.5k

the playlist.

the lavish silk of your bedding dipped with morpheus' weight as he moved to sit beside you, shoulder brushing yours as you skimmed through a novel that morpheus had influenced in your honour.

"you must allow me to tell you how ardently i admire and love you." he read from over your shoulder, voice slow and sleek, like molasses sliding through the gentle air.

"good evening, mr darcy." you grinned with a teasing lilt to your voice.

"good evening to yourself, miss bennet."

his arm moved to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you even closer to his side. you closed your book on instinct, setting it down on the bedside table as you always did when his scent of home was close enough to haze your mind. you turned slightly, your head resting by the crook of his neck, hand easily falling into his. his thumb rubbed across the back of you palm. he pressed a lasting kiss to the crown of your head.

today it was cold in the dreaming, something that did not occur often, but openly reflected the stress of its creator. even without the chill of the outdoors, you could sense morpheus' distress and frustration in the way his hold was tighter than usual, and the way you felt him relax drastically when you lay down upon him.

he was troubled, and instead of running away, he chose to come to you. he trusted you, he felt safe with you. he had shared everything with you; the existence before you that could barely be called a life, the early stages of living that came with meeting you, the joys of eternal thriving that your love brought. and yet, no matter how much he had shared with you, you had never shared your past with him.

not out of distrust, or fear, or any form of anxious judgement, but out of avoidance. for if you had to disclose your history with morpheus, you would have to relive it yourself.

before morpheus, you had cried in the arms of poets, and artists, and bards alike, and they had all written off your suffering as an excuse for their grand masterpiece. they dedicated it to you, said their magnum opus was all thanks to the glorious harmonia, but none of them actually listened.

you'd been abandoned, realising after centuries that everyone you had ever known preferred the idea of missing you as opposed to actually being in your presence.

first to go was your mother. aphrodite was a kind and caring soul, and, even now, to say she abandoned you was impossible. in truth, the lack of her shadow around your light was a product of your independence. you challenged her, tested her patience in a fashion so contradictory to your moral ground. but instead of letting frustration take hold of her, your mother relished in your challenge and nurtured you until you grew to a goddess worshipped by the masses.

when she left, it was not of ill intentions. it was a testament to her pride of who you had become. her final gift to you was your freedom, even if her company was all you wished for over the coming centuries.

you couldn't remember the others. old friends turned enemies, lovers turned distant strangers, devotees turned assailants. each of them fled in similar fashions, they adored you, praised you as you tore pieces of your heart and soul and handed them over until you feared that your body would cave in on itself. that's when they turned, when they let the door slam on its way out, when they left you cold and alone.

but no matter what happened, you never faulted them. you were peace itself, so how could you bare anger upon those who sought it elsewhere. you did not fight, unless the battle grabbed you by your haunches and hauled you into the field.

it had happened before and you knew, even though you lay in morpheus' arms, that it would happen again. circumstance would betray you and you would be left with crimson seeping into the cracks in your hands.

you had watched lucifer fall. you dived to their aid and guided their descent and, in turn, gained an unwavering ally. but no matter how much you'd done to help the ruler of hell, your actions could not go unpunished. angels and once fell under your rule rebelled against you and pushed you from the precipice of virtue leaving you tumbling off of your pedestal. you could not fight your fate, it was not a path you had chosen, it chose you.

in distress and despair, you cling to whomever lay closest to you, their lips slotting against yours in the perfect distraction from your pain.

you once met an artist and he turned your suffering into a portrait that gained him eternal fame as he cast you to the shadows. after him, you crawled into the bed of a poet who truly loved you. she was kind and caring and looked after you. she nursed your wounds and kissed your scars and let her fingers dance across your broken and battered bones in a practiced ballet for every moment she spent with you.

to this day you consider her one of your purest loves. she was different. warm and welcoming, unlike all the others who would come to hold you, and those who already had. but what set her apart wasn't just the good she held inside, but in the fact that she wrote sonnets for you, where others simply wrote them about you. she art, her blood, her sweat, her tears, they were yours as much as they were hers.

but, as all mortals do, she passed into a world beyond the dreaming and you were left alone once more.

tired of the deceit and false hopes, you continued to trek through the worlds alone. lucifer would call you to their side every few centuries, usually with a request easy to complete, sometimes showing a sheltered side of them that begged for simple conversation from the one being their could call a companion.

when the angels swarmed again, enraged by one of lucifer's actions, you stood proud in their kingdom, wielding a sword gifted to you by the ruler themself and betraying your own name. yet again, the battle had chosen you and the fight left you seared and scarred.

you hadn't ventured to hell since. you often wondered if lucifer missed you, or if your old friend had simply moved on with the drive to build their empire higher and higher.

and then you met him.

fatefully, and wholly random, your shoulders brushed while entering a ball and later your hands met as partners for dance were spun around. his eyes soft and pupils dilated, yours much the same, the steady sounds of perfect orchestra gifting you an outro as he followed you blindly to the balcony for air.

for a few minutes, neither of you saying anything, wondering if the other would first. “you seem different to the rest.” he begins and you scoff, hopes of him standing out from the other madman who had lusted for your story, claiming you were ‘unlike anyone they had ever met — special’ until he followed up with a name you hadn't heard in eons.

“you're harmonia, aren't you?”

you turned to him sharply, confusion and concern etched onto your face but then something in the shadows that danced across his made everything fall into place.

“you're dream of the endless.”

“i much prefer the name morpheus, but yes.” he seemed amused by your confusion, prepared for an onslaught of questions but you only asked him one simple thing.

“do you wish to dance again, morpheus?”

he smiled, you mirrored it. he stepped towards you and took your hand in a light bow, you curtseyed in return. music flooded outside through the open doors and the moonlight guided your steps as you waltzed into midnight.

“where is it you've gone this time, my light?” his voice pulled you from your stupor, smile evident in his words.

you turned in his arms, chin resting on his chest and eyes batting up at him. “nowhere important. not when i could simply be here.”

his smile widened as he pressed another kiss to your forehead as you drew shapes on his skin and recounted your day, relishing in the peace the dreaming granted you.

here, you were free to lay down your sword without the worry of wielding it again to fend off threats to your love. here, you did not have to worry about a tug of war between heaven and hell for your favour. here, you were no longer subject to the cold words and cruel intentions of others.

here, your only duty was to love morpheus as deeply as he loved you, and in the steady rise and fall of his chest, you knew that role was as easy to fill as breathing.

existence before him wasn't easy, but still, you lay in a kingdom forged in the name of your sanctuary. you had survived, the notion made you smile.