#life would be so much easier if i was just stupid and easily entertained

[no-hcpe]

God I hate being alive it's literally so fucking boring.

No friends, every friend I've ever tried to make has left me eventually. Even when I try to go do things with acquaintances I barely even enjoy it, and I can tell I'm the "backup" friend who they only hang out with when they're bored. I had a club I used to go to sometimes and I actually enjoyed that, but that has been completely fucking ruined and I literally can't show my face there anymore because my partner got falsely accused of harassing someone and everyone already had a vendetta against them, so they just took it at face value. So now everyone knows me as "the retarded bitch who never talks and got cucked by a harasser".

Family is boring as fuck, they do the same thing every single day of their lives. I care about my mom but I don't understand how she has a will to live when she works a boring job with coworkers she doesn't like? Thinking about living her Sisyphean hell actually makes me nauseous. I hate her boyfriend too.

I have a partner but the relationship is complicated and kinda makes me feel like shit sometimes. I care about them but they completely smother me and it's just not going to work out. Like I like being with them, but not enough to commit to like... being in a whole ass relationship anymore. Hanging out with them is also pretty boring, they just want to watch TV with me and that's really about it.

I'm trying to finish my master's thesis but I can't finish it because ... you guessed it ... writing it is SO FUCKING BORING. I HATE the fucking topic that I got stuck with but it's way too late to change it and I just have to force myself to power through and finish it so I can just fucking be done with it already. I am so fucking bitter that I got stuck with this topic because my fucking advisors barely gave me any help when I tried to tell them I wanted to find a different one. Now I'm the one stupid bitch in my graduating class that STILL HASN'T FINISHED IT EVEN THOUGH IT'S BEEN SIX FUCKING MONTHS SINCE EVERYONE ELSE FINISHED

But after I finish it, then what? I have literally... NOTHING that I actually want to DO in life. My singular life goal was to graduate from college, and I did it, and it wasn't even that fun. The only things I kinda sorta like are listening to music, watching funny videos/shows, playing Pokemon, and petting my cat. I can't come up with a single life goal that I actually want to stay alive for. I genuinely can't fathom being alive in 10 years, and if I am alive, I can't imagine not having gone absolutely insane from pure boredom. I'll have to become an alcoholic or drug addict or something just to have something to do. Forget 10 years, I can't even imagine what my day to day life will look like the day after I finish the stupid thesis.

Food is boring. Drinks are boring. Going for a walk is boring. Using the Internet is boring. Reading is boring. Dressing up is boring. Going to bed is boring. Waking up is boring. Pacing around the house is boring. Driving is boring. Work is boring. Everything ... is just ... so ... fucking ... boring ... and pointless.

[mecachrome]

https://x.com/ThisIsFormu1a1/status/1812000331460747414

And this is coming from someone who babysits Lando every time, even if Lando makes a mistake XDDDDDDDDDD I think it would be better for Oscar if he found another team

hey anon!

i like jenson and consider him a good pundit but sometimes he just has bad takes and doesn't know things and that's not a reflection of his relationship to lando, lol, simply him being a know-it-all who is wrong from time to time. also understand that there's a difference between explanation and accountability; objectively oscar "should" have left space to make the double stack easier, but actual accountability goes to the team for not foreseeing this and better managing the gap (or better yet pitting oscar a lap before, since if they were so indecisive about the changing conditions they could have used the car behind on track to try something relatively riskier, seeing as red bull was willing to take the plunge with max; the problem is that as a team used to being in the upper midfield, mclaren still subscribe too much to a conservative risk management mindset and their reactive blunders are what's killing them. under key this was also their problem with development and upgrade timelines and is the first thing that andrea fixed, but it's clear there are growing pains and areas in need of rehabilitation across different parts of the organization. but that's just a Corporate Reality 🤷‍♀️). of course it's stupid for anyone to insist that this was oscar's fault at all but it is what it is tbh

again i feel like there's no use in entertaining ~mistreatment~ clickbait narratives so apologies for your other ask hlksdfh but re: finding another team... i think if a few mclaren fans followed other teams they'd have a bit of a reality check about what makes a good working environment, haha. mclaren's incompetence is from their growing pains, yes, and it is still pure incompetence, no excuses, but there's a scale of Bullshittery every organization falls onto just as in real normal-people life that i think oscar and his team are capable of evaluating as much as anyone else is. assuming new regs aren't delayed, there's still one more year of convergence left before the field is essentially reset, so oscar and mclaren have another season together of optimizing how a competitive team is meant to operate. also i'm not going to pretend that newey isn't a genius, but really there's no guarantee that he'll impact design from 2026 onward to the same degree he did in the onset of the ground effect era, so on top of the advantage being less pronounced now that teams have accrued so much more experience with it it also won't necessarily matter That Much which team he chooses to go to.

so really at the moment alpine, williams, audi, haas, am, and vcarb (6/10 teams) aren't even worth the consideration; ferrari have 1644 and have put a LOT of effort into bea, i mean the fda is mostly a farce and he was their only serious junior back in 2022... still is now in most categories lol. plus is ferrari even any more convincing of an environment than mclaren? both have shit strategy but one is less beholden to its own myth and hasn't regressed with any of its upgrades for the past 2 seasons. merc is on the up currently but is in a similar position in terms of their kimi buy-in, and then... with red bull there's no guarantee they'll even be dominant with the new regs, and either way is that really a place where you think oscar would thrive more than he currently is? it's nice to say that drivers should be willing to take risks and go somewhere more competitive, but this can also easily backfire on them and you have to objectively consider the options and whether there's even anywhere to GO that will offer them that. looking at carlos's current silly-season woes it's clear that it's a tough environment to find an optimal seat + contract in atm.

sorry for this long explanation but anon i truly think oscar will be just fine... he's p5 in the championship in only his 2nd year and is the sole driver to have completed every lap and still has a perfect q3 appearance rate and scored points in every race weekend so far. yes there have been frustrating losses despite the consistency but in the same vein that tyre management is something that can't be fully simulated and instead requires real experience to properly hone, top teams need to be put in these situations to fafo/learn from. it'll be okay!

[vanillafalvoredcoffee]

Tw: ERROR, ERROR, ERROR

WHY WON'T YOU LOVE ME???

Hello there! thank you for viewing this post...even for a little while...haha

my name is Y/N! ... your name ...

Sorry...that's not really a good enough title to introduce myself to you isn't it?

I mean...it'll be pretty much like talking to yourself in here.... haha

maybe it'd be easier to call you 'reader' or something?

What do you think?

Ah wait, you can't answer here...haha!

...

Hey... I'm just gonna stop talking now!...hahaha.sorry, sorry... I just...you're so cute !

I don't know what got into me! but... you are! and... wow, you look so sweet when I first saw you on the other side of the screen...

I feel like my heart might actually pop out of my chest any minute now! haha!

...I feel like I WANT to be you...

But...I am now aren't I?

I am supposed to look like you...and to be you after all...right?

I am supposed to entertain you by taking a role as the protagonist of your story and make you laugh with my stupid acts!

I will do that for sure!

You know...the funny thing...I don't get why some people seem to hate 'Y/N's' in general...what did I do wrong?

is it because I'm cringe? or am I too boring for them to like?

hm...

I guess they probably have a few reasons...

Maybe it was because I didn't look or act like them enough?

That would also be an option...though I wouldn't blame anyone if they thought that...I only see your face! not your personal life!

Or it's because I am annoying...maybe that's the problem... I don't want people to dislike me so badly that they want to end me, right...? or maybe I'm just being ridiculous?

Oh no...

...I'm rambling again...

I hope you don't mind...oh well~ maybe this will change soon enough.

And hopefully we shall meet in person one day!!

I will try my best for...

...Actually Never mind...

...No matter how much I tried, no matter how many times I repeated the phrase "I will try my best" you still wouldn't like me would you?

Why? why don't you like me? I mean... I'm kind of boring, right? I'm always thinking about my own problems...but... you are probably already bored and frustrated with me... aren't you?

It makes sense now, doesn't it? It explains everything. You can't stand seeing me around because you don't like that I always acted so boring...

I just...I want to be like you...I don't know anything other than that!

I was supposed to your puppet...for you to play and pretend as you wanted...and I didn't...because I'm not like you at all. I can't act or move as fast and as easily as you could...and...and I feel bad when I realize that I can't do even half of the things you do in real life..!

I'm sorry...you're supposed to control my every move...but somehow I ended up liking you instead!

Now that I think about it...it is kinda obvious isn't it? How long have we been together, reader? How much time has passed since we were strangers?...when you stop appreciating what I do...

I've done everything for you! I've even done so much lewd things to people I don't even like or even know!

We haven't even seen each other before in real life...so how did I end up liking you so much?

...

My time is running out...I should say good bye...

Well then...goodbye, reader!

Please watch all the stories that has me in its entirety!

I won't leave until then! I promise I'll try my best to make you happy! :)

(So I have this concept that Y/N is their own person but I try to make it as tragic as possible plus a bit of yandere...sorry I'm not good at writing about this kind of stuff)

Y/N needs therapy lol

[wonyoungandbeautiful]

Wonyoung knew she was too much to handle for any regular people. She could be sweet and caring but then could quickly turn into a nightmare to those who deserved it. Most of her family members had told her that it wasn't wise to behave that way, that she needed to be more tamed if she wanted to have an easier life and please more people. Though she once tried, she couldn't help but go back to her old natural self. Mingi seemed to be handling her just fine, even though she knew how much she was tormenting him on a daily basis. But she particularly enjoyed the way he would retaliate, play her twisted games or flirt back just as quickly as her. That was what she wanted in a partner — someone who could deal with her negative traits and keep her on her toes. He wasn't wrong. She did enjoy the punishments he would inflict on her much more than she would like to admit. But she also knew she somewhat deserved it considering how chaotic and hysterical she could be outside of the bedroom. Her hand swiftly covered his mouth as she stood on her tiptoes to try and match his height. "Don't say that in public!" she whispered, her cheeks adopting a much pinker tone. "I don't want..." she started before taking a look around them to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. "I don't want people to know we do that," she continued in a shy tone as though she hadn't been the one to initiate this topic. Standing back on her heels, she let her hand on his mouth fall back to her sides, unable to contain her laugh at his comment. "Shut up!" she playfully slapped his chest.

The way to his dorms was a path she knew all too well. She had gone there way too many times within the five months of their relationship — remembering every corner like it was her own place. What she didn't know was how she ended up with him by her side on their way to his so quickly. It felt like everything that led up to this situation was a blur. How could insults and teasing sessions end like this so easily? Wasn't she supposed to hate him still for cheating on her? None of it made any sense to her. And though she desperately tried to get answers to the questions running through her mind, she still decided to follow her guts instead of her head as she intentionally avoided the warnings her brain was sending her. At the mention of the alley, Wonyoung couldn't help but let out a giggle. And though what she was planning on telling him was a bit scandalous, it was not untrue either. "Dark alleys are so fucking hot," she murmured so only he could hear. It was also very risky which was one of the many reasons why the option seemed tempting in her eyes though she knew how stupid it was of her to like such a public spot considering her career choice. "Yeah they were thrown out the window because you dragged me to your food market without asking me if i wanted to go. I didn't even get to text my friends and tell them i can't join them anymore," the brunette explained with a roll of her eyes. But despite the irritation she portrayed, she was in fact more interested in spending time with him instead. Drinks with friends suddenly sounded less entertaining and more monotone. It was only then that she pulled her phone out of her purse, her manicured fingers quickly typing an apology text to her group of friends. Her excuse? She was suddenly sick. But it was until they stood in front of his building elevator that she moved closer to him, her eyes trailing down to his lips as she leaned into his touch almost instantly. A sigh of relief emitted from her mouth once the doors opened to an empty room as she pushed her phone back into her purse. She could still decide not to walk in, go back home and ignore any of this had ever happened. But everyone knew how much Wonyoung enjoyed compliments. It could be anything, it would always lighten her mood in a heartbeat. Though Mingi's wasn't very elaborated, it drew her back in like a secret weapon of his. "Yeah? you think so?" she rhetorically inquired before she pinned him against the large elevator mirror. Her arms instantly wrapping around his neck as her lips moved over his in a much more passionate kiss — different than what they had shared in public.

The idol community wasn’t as huge like the outside world perceived it as. Staff gossiped and that information usually got to the hands of the wrong person. Mingi was positive that was how his fan rumor began. It had been a long night of Mingi drinking but he was just hitting his tipsy state when he ran into the fan. There had been some flirting bouncing between the pair until the rapper decided to call it quits and head back into his hotel room. The fan, ensuring that he reached his destination, had walked him towards the elevators where they both went their own way. Nothing happened other than a thank you and Mingi waving at the lovely woman when the doors shut. And instead, the innocent night had been smeared, destroying his relationship in a heartbeat. It was a known thing in their world. Staff members spilling or selling secrets to whoever paid the most Mingi did his best not to listen to any stories that were about Wonyoung. Mostly because he knew the effect it would cause him, and also because he wanted to respect her privacy. Kind of ironic when he was just questioning who she was with just a few minutes ago. Some heat rose to his face that he couldn’t help but let a soft chuckle escape his lips. “That’s what you want? Me to punish you? You like getting spanked just as much as I like punishing you” The whiplash the two gave was impeccable and the reason why he couldn’t move on from her. Nobody else could sway his temper this way. “The food vendor? I know you��re into older guys but c’mon… that’s a bit much, babe.” 

What were they arguing about again? Mingi tried to remember but now all he focused on was the playful tone she carried with her voice. The way her lips formed into a smile made his jaw ease. The rhythm of his heart increased yet again at her words causing him to take a moment to gather his thoughts. “You like pushing my buttons.” The grip of his hand planted firmly on her bottom now turned into a gentle squeeze. He did his best to refrain from spanking her right now had it not been for the sound that would echo from the movement. A smirk planted across his face while his mind run every type of scenario that would happen once he had her all alone. “You know I’m more of a show and tell type of guy. Wait until I have you alone.” He whispered before he whisked her away. The map on how to arrive to his dorm quickly crossing his mind of what streets would take the less amount of walking. A small debate came into play of what other places were in between before reaching their destination. Worried that anything or anyone could interrupt them during their small journey to his dorm that was just shy of five minutes from where they were. “I’m about to take you into this alley if you don’t quit asking questions.” How romantic was the first thought he had. “You had plans? I thought those got thrown out the window when you saw me.” It wasn’t a complete stretch to say. They had been down this road long enough that this could go two ways. Option one would be to storm off in opposite directions, throwing insults while they did. Option two would be to spend the afternoon and night behind closed doors. And right now… Mingi was a huge fan of the second option. His fingers laced with hers, tightening his grip to keep her from slipping away. The streets in Seoul should terrify him when cameras could be lurking around different corners. One snap of a picture would land both of them in deep trouble along with a week long of lecturing from his team including most of his members. That, once again, how careless he was when it came to Wonyoung. His eyes trailed to the buildings as they passed, almost tempted to pull her into one of those even if it was for a few minutes. Shaking his head, he decided against it until they, by some miracle, arrived to his apartment building. “Finally.” He sighed, pressing the elevator button and reeled her without another word. His hand slipping from hers to fall back into her curves then further down until he cupped her bottom again. The elevator beeped when it opened, and he stepped inside, pulling her with him. “You look so good today, baby” He pressed his floor number and leaned in to kiss her lips as if the last few minutes of dragging the other never happened. 

[neiptune]

little arguments

ft: eren, armin, connie, jean

warnings: cursing

Where there's love, there's annoyance

Eren

Loving Eren is not easy, it isn't the hardest thing you've done in your life either. When he asked you to move in with him, you felt genuine happiness, healthy excitement as he helped you carry every box for hours on end, giddy amusement when he took your face in his hands, kissed you and smiled brightly after parking your suitcase in his living room, emerald eyes shining with pure joy as he proudly announced there's a jug of fresh homemade lemonade in the fridge, help yourself roomie.

Loving Eren mostly means eating breakfast in bed when it's gloomy outside, carefully picking which movie to watch on your couch while he's attempting and usually failing at cooking hamburgers, dragging him to museum dates cause you allow him to drag you to his football matches, enjoying his genuine interactions with your friends, showering together at night, having his hands draw lazy shapes on your skin while he's too tired to even keep his eyes open.

But loving Eren becomes difficult quite easily, for the silliest reasons. He always leaves the toilet seat up and claims that it's not really a big deal, he absolutely refuses to turn the light off as he's leaving a room cause I'm gonna be back in like five minutes, puts the basically empty carton of milk back in the fridge cause he's simply too lazy to thow it in the trash. But the thing you two argue about the most, is his messiness.

Now, you're probably even messier. It's fine, no problem in admitting that. However, at least you have the decency to be honest about it and, most importantly, not criticize his ass. A courtesy he simply doesn't reciprocate.

“Babe”, he casually says, condescension dripping like honey from his tone. So much that you have to brace yourself, take a deep breath in.

“Can you pick up your socks from the floor at your earliest convenience? No rush, I just accidentally stepped on them. Cause, like, they're on the floor”.

Can you pick up deez nuts?

“Of course, babe. Hey, is that one of your beer bottles from last night right there, next to my books? And remember when I found one of your boxers hanging from that chair, in the kitchen, last week?”, you don't even look up from the magazine you're reading, casually flipping through it as he snorts.

“You didn't seem to mind my boxers being off in the kitchen when I–”

“Do not finish that sentence”.

“Bent you over the counter”.

Grip on the magazine tightens ever so slightly.

“At least I collect my underwear, even after you throw it across the room. Any room”.

“Do you always have to do this? Not everything is a competition”, he grumbles.

“So you agree, it would be easier to just shut up about it”.

“Why would I shut up about something that clearly bothers me?”

“Because you don't get to be bothered by something you do as well”.

Eren rolls his eyes.

“The difference being I don't mind it when you tell me to pick something up”.

You finally look at him, incredulous.

“Yeah, you literally don't mind. Meaning you never end up actually doing it”.

“When's the last time you told me to do something and I overreacted like you're doing right now and every other time?”

Magazine's back on the coffee table in the blink of an eye.

“You're asking me when's the last time you overreacted?”, you ask, lips extended in an entertained smile.

“When you told me to do something”, he articulates the words slowly, not appreciating the implications of your amused question.

“Okay. Let's see. When I asked you to fold your clothes before putting them in the drawer. When I told you that you snore and maybe it's time to get your sleep apnea checked. Or was it when I requested that you paused your dumb game to help me clean the house cause your brother was coming over for dinner?”

“You know damn well you can't pause virtual game night”, he protests and you scoff.

“Do you and Jean actually believe that giving it a name makes it sound less stupid?”

Eren sighs, back pressed once again against the backrest of the couch.

Armin

“You're so annoying”, he childishly complains, bringing a triumphant smile to your face as you lean over to get your magazine again.

The keys rattle loudly as you let them fall in the small basket you keep on the cabinet in the entrance of your house. He's silent as he stands behind you, quietly observing how you take your heels off and just leave them there to proceed towards the bathroom, not even bothering to put your slippers on.

“Y/n?”, he softly calls.

Your stern gaze finds his apologetic one in the mirror and you squeeze the makeup remover wipe in your hand just a little tighter.

“I'm not mad at you”.

“You're partly mad at me".

Eyeliner and eyeshadow come off easily with a a few, gentle wipes of your hand.

“Yes”, you admit and Armin sighs deeply. He settles to patiently wait for you to remove your makeup, cleanse your face and finish your usual night routine. You find him sitting on your bed, the top three buttons of the clean shirt he had put on open, dark green tie he had carefully picked loosened around his neck.

“Can I stay the night?”, he asks hesitantly and you almost, almost break right then and there.

“You know you don't have to ask", and that's something that's never gonna change, no matter how upset you are. It's never enough to be away from him.

“I'm sorry”, Armin mutters slowly as you wearily sit on the bed next to him.

“Why didn't you tell me?”, the accusation in your tone is stronger than you expect but, truth is, you are mad. Terribly mad.

“They're your friends”, his explanation is so simple it makes your blood boil.

“They're some of my friends. And I don't care. You should've said something, you should've done something”.

“I didn't want to upset you, they don't have to necessarily like me, it's not a-”

“I swear to god if you're about to say that it's not a big deal-”

“But it really isn't, baby. I don't care”.

Oh, Armin.

“Well I care, 'Min. And what if they don't like you? Do they get to treat you like shit? What if your friends didn't like me, would you allow Eren to-”

“No”, his interruption is firm, void of hesitation, and your features can't help but soften.

“I know. And I also know you don't like conflict. But you have to stand up for yourself, I'm so sick of you seeing in everyone what you don't see in yourself”.

He shuffles nervously in his seat and you sit closer, close enough for your hands to cup his face and force his reluctant blue irises to focus on you.

“You should care, if people close to me don't like you. Cause I like you a lot and I wish you could make that clear to every asshole I happen to have went to college with”.

He smiles a little and you sweetly kiss his nose as his arm closes around you waist to pull you closer. He's warm, and solid, and smells so nice and is simply the best person you've ever met and you're so lucky to have him love you. It just breaks your heart, how little he values himself. Armin would kick your boss', your brother's, his own best friend's ass if he so much as sensed any hint of mistreat directed at you; he just doesn't bother as much for himself. And you're definitely done allowing that.

“I don't want you to fight with your friends because of me”, he murmurs in your hair and you scoff.

“They're not my friends anymore. No, shut up, you don't get to have a say in that. Either you realize how much of a wonderful person you are or I'm telling Eren next time something like this happens. He'll defend your honor”.

Armin's nose scrunches up in disapproval and you chuckle, kissing his jaw.

“So you think more of your friends don't like me?”, the badly concealed urgency in his voice makes you laugh.

“I'm pretty sure Claire has asked me if you have a twin brother a hundred times. Stella loves you. Lucas is planning to invite you to a basketball game with his other friends, sorry for ruining the surprise, and I'm pretty sure Jesse would love to hit it”.

Connie

“Hit what?”, he asks, cheeks rosy with embarrassment, and you can't help but laugh again as you pull him in for the tightest hug you're able to provide.

You've never really believed in the whole best friends to lovers thing, that is until your best friend had started to get increasingly handsome, and actually funny, and shockingly mature. Well, within reason anyway. He's still your best friend, in the greatest and worst ways.

Connie is always the first to sense when something's off, he catches every slight, unusual crack in your voice through the phone, knows with incredible precision when to visit, hand holding two to three promising brown bags containing your favorite ice cream (the actual fancy branded one, not the one you usually pick at the market), a surprise dinner (italian, indian, chinese, mexican, you name it), three to five rented movie options for you to choose from, sometimes something unrelated and dumb that is only there with the purpose of making you crack a smile or, if he's feeling particularly confident, making you let out a full on laugh. Like that one time he had bought you a piggy bank, except it was shaped as a chicken and had a sign that said “For your egg-onomics”.

Connie loves you so much that you sometimes feel his love is enough for the both of you, but he stubbornly steps in at every sign of you “disrespecting my badass, hot girlfriend” to remind you that you're still your own person and he simply won't allow you to make him do all the work. He loves you so much he's happy to help you love yourself as well. And you feel grateful, cause even though he's someone you have known for so long, he still manages to surprise you. And you feel lucky, cause you two still get to grow together.

But sometimes, Connie is still your best friend, with all of his annoying habits. He still loves silently farting in bed and then pulling the sheets over your head to force you to smell it. He watches videos on his phone really loudly while sitting right next to you. Taps his fingers on any surface available. And, honestly, sometimes is so comfortable with you, has so much fun, he forgets you're his girlfriend and not another one of his friends.

“What's for dinner?”, he asks, slamming your cupboard shut as you're sitting at the kitchen table, working on your laptop.

“Nothing”, your reply is dry and his spider senses are activated right away.

“What's up?”, the question is cheery, almost mocking, as he loudly drags one of your chairs across the wooden floor to sit next to you.

“Why are you asking about dinner? You're going out with your friends, remember?”

Connie snaps his fingers.

“Right! Wanna tag along?”

You stop typing for a second.

“To the last minute plan you've made without informing me? Hard pass”.

“Dude, come on, don't be like that! I just forgot to tell you, do you wanna track all my movements or something?”, he grins.

“You were the one who called me yesterday to ask if we could spend the evening together, dude”.

His mouth hangs open for a second, realization dawning on him. He's not the best at remembering things, or plans, or promises, something he's been trying to work on. And failing.

“Damn. I'm sorry, man. I'll call Sasha and tell her-”

“Don't, man. Go and have fun, I have work to do anyway”.

“Now I'm confused. Are you upset cause I've made plans or cause I'm not calling you any corny nicknames?”

You sigh, feeling a headache rising up to your temples.

“Don't know, might be nice to be called something that wouldn't make me feel like one of your baseball teammates for once”.

He leans over the table, your gaze automatically finding his.

“Okay. Can you forgive me, bunny?”, he fights it so hard but an entertained smile stretches his lips anyway.

You seriously hope your grimace is terrifying enough for him to stop.

“I take it back”, you hiss, but it's only an invitation for him to take your face in his hands and squeeze it until your lips reach the perfect level of kissability.

“Say that you love me, pumpkin”.

“Connie!", you whine, but he kisses you again with a sloppy sound that makes you roll your eyes with amusement.

“Come on, baby cakes. Say that you love me even if I'm dumb and I forget everything”.

“Yourenotdumb”, you manage to let out, cheeks still squeezed as he pecks them again, one, two, three, four times, until you're both laughing and you're squeezing his face as well.

“Maybe a little dumb”, you declare and it's his turn to roll his eyes.

“But you love me?”, he pouts, big puppy eyes staring into your soul as you playfully lick his nose and he pulls away with a fake, disgusted frown.

“I love you. Have fun, tell Sasha and Jean I said hi”, you surrender and he grins that wide grin of his as he gets up and goes around the table to pull you into a bear hug.

Jean

“I love you more, angel pie!”

Whenever he looks at you, Jean is reminded of how impossibly magical being in love actually feels. When he's out of the shithole that is the office he works in, he gets to stop by your favorite shop to pick flowers you'll hopefully like. When it's summer, he'll buy two popsicles from a supermarket that's too far from your apartment and it doesn't matter how fast he runs, they melt every single time. He has someone to cook for, someone who gently places cups of coffee next to his laptop when he's on a phone call, someone who takes care of him when he's sick and never complains when he gets clingy cause you're firm in your "there's no such thing as too much cuddling” policy.

He loves loving you and feels the luckiest human on earth whenever he remembers that, for some weird astral conjunction, you happen to love him as well. It's just that, on small, specific occasions, when Jean looks at you, love is not exactly the first thing he thinks about.

“Baby”, he clears his throat as you keep singing along to whatever obscene country song the radio is responsible for.

“Baby you're a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”, there's no sign of you hearing him as your fingers mindlessly drum on the steering wheel.

“Honey”, he tries again and this time you look at him behind your sunglasses, lips extended in a smile so beautiful he just has to smile as well.

“Yes?”

“Could you maybe slow down a little?”

Jean can practically feel your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull as you reply with a stern oh my god, don't start.

“I'm just here to politely remind you that this is an automatic and quite old ford fusion, not a lamborghini”, he continues, trying his best not to sound annoying. If he wanted to annoy you, he could've pointed out the alarmingly high number of empty water bottles, old bags, two half-eaten sandwiches and the backpack he had to move to be able to find a free spot in the passenger seat.

“Babe, just relax!”

“I'm trying”, he replies tiredly, making you chuckle.

“You sure got the beat in my chest bumpin', hell, I can't get you out of my head”, you're singing again and it takes everything in him not to look for a different channel right away cause perhaps not even his love for you is a motivation strong enough to tolerate country music.

“Hey, isn't that Armin over there?”

Jean's eyes shot up as you intently look over to your left, almost leaning out of the window.

“Ohmygodcanyoulookahead?!”, he practically shouts and you jump in your seat, bringing a hand to your chest.

“Christ, will you calm down?”

“I can't calm down if you're not focused on the road!”

“Jean, I am focused!”

And, almost as to underline your absolute concentration, your foot slams on brakes seconds before the car can smash through the one in front of you.

“Fucking hell”, he mutters, hand running through his hair in disbelief.

You snort, impatient.

“It's your fault for making me nervous”.

“If you hadn't been so focused on looking at Armin, you would've noticed that car braking like half an hour ago and maybe you could've also been able to stop acelerating!”

“Why don't you drive, then?”

“Believe me, nothing would make me happier!”

He should've guessed. You're certainly dramatic enough to actually pull over and wait for him to take your seat before climbing in his, arms crossed, frown still hidden behind your sunglasses.

You both remain silent for the rest of the journey and Jean waits until he's finally able to park your car a little far from your house to speak again. As he turns the engine off, he doesn't unlock the doors, searching for your gaze.

“I'm sorry if I came out aggressive. I'm just anxious”, he murmurs, gently grabbing your chin to make you look at him.

“You're not anxious when Armin drives”.

“Baby, I love you with the intensity of a thousand burning suns, but do you honestly think you two have the same... style?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”, you gasp, incredulous.

He sighs.

“You're just... a tiny bit more adventurous”.

“Clearly? It's called being fun!”

“But I don't want fun rides, I prefer safe ones”, his tone is so apologetic it almost makes you laugh. Almost.

“Fine. I won't pick you up from work or anywhere else ever again. In fact, why don't you take my car? You can own two, just like Eren who, by the way, never once complained about my driving style”.

Duh, because he's just as fucking crazy behind the wheel.

“Why don't we compromise?”

You narrow your eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“You promise to be the tiniest bit less fun and more careful when giving me a lift. And I promise to be less of a pain in your ass”.

Reluctantly, you sigh.

“You're never a pain in my ass, idiot. I'll do my best to improve”.

With a hand on the nape of your neck, he brings you in for a kiss. You don't pull back, which means you're not that mad at him.

Jean loves you, he truly does, remembering that gets just a bit harder whenever you're driving.

[crybabyddl]

RED AND "IF SHE'S MAD KISS HER" BUT NOT NSFW PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE LET THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS JUMP OUT I AM BEGGING please 🥺

To quote the almighty Lizzo, I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE, TURNITUP!!!

—

“...So I was obviously a bit confused. I mean, what could a mouse say about me that would make Allura ignore me the whole day?”

“I can think of a few things.” I grinned. Lance was currently droning on about his love life... to me of all people. I’m not sure how I ended up here.

“Excuse you, that was rude! It’s not like you could even get a girlfriend anyway,” Lance jeered. “I understand how you could easily get uber jealous of my ability to talk to the ladies.” He reached out his arm to ruffle my hair, but I quickly grabbed his wrist and bent his arm.

“Nope. Not happening.” I deadpanned.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, OW!” I let go of his wrist, sitting back on the couch with my arms folded. “Holy cheese, Keith! Can you try not snapping my arm in half?”

“That was me trying.”

“Anyway, do you want my advice on how to get a girl?”

“I never sa–”

“Then it’s settled! Alright, step one: tell me what shampoo you use.” I rolled my eyes at the request.

“That has nothing to do with anything!”

Lately, Lance had been obsessed with my hair. I haven’t the slightest clue why, other than occasionally hearing him mutter “fluffy” under his breath. He was always a bit of a character but I don’t see why he couldn’t just look in the bathroom.

“It was worth a shot. Anyway, the real step one is actually liking a girl. Due to circumstances, your options are limited. We could consider this a test run so that when you actually like someone you know what to do.” Lance explained. I let out a heavy sigh. I never agreed to this, but I couldn’t be assed to worm my way out of it. It’d be easier to just go along with it.

“So you’re asking me to pretend to like either Pidge or Y/N?” Quiznak. Pidge was like a sister to me and Y/N... let’s just say we’re not exactly fond of each other.

“It’s just practice. Pick whichever person you’d be more comfortable with.”

“Ok then, uh, I guess Pidge?”

“Alright! Now, since you chose the person you’re most comfortable with, you can keep that steady friendship with Pidge. Your goal is to make Y/N not hate you by the end of the week.”

“What? But you said–”

“Hey, who’s the love expert here? Oh right, me! So we’re playing by my rules. The art of flirtation is one that is rarely simple. If you want to get the most out of this experience, you have to challenge yourself. You of all people should know that.” I suppose he had a point, but I sure wasn’t happy about it.

“Fine,” I huffed, sinking further into my seat, silently wishing I was anywhere but here. “What is the next step?” But I stayed, considering Lance has had a rough week.

From Allura ignoring him to almost losing the blue lion, he was in a fragile state. Maybe this would take his mind off things and give him a distraction, or at least some mild entertainment.

“The next step (step two electric boogaloo) in my foolproof plan is to be around this person as much as possible. This leads us to step three, when you’re around your crush, you actually have talk to them. I know that will be difficult for you Keith, but trust me. Just do or say something memorable so that they’ll associate that part of their day with you.”

— time skip brought to you by me rewatching voltron bc i love torturing myself —

Much to my dismay, Lance made me go to the kitchen to “get a snack” and proceeded to crack some joke about Y/N being the snack. I had no idea what it meant, but since it came from Lance, it was either flirty, stupid, or both.

“Hey Lance, I need your opinion on som– oh, hey Keith.” Y/N gave a small wave of her hand, to which I nodded in acknowledgement. If she hadn’t said something, starting this conversation would’ve been difficult. I slid into the seat across from her.

“Sorry to disappoint, but maybe I can help with whatever you needed an opinion on?” I offered, avoiding eye contact. Y/N flinched in her seat.

“Why would I tell you? You’ll just say something rude, get mad, and go train.” She gave me a cold glare. Well gee, this was off to a great start...

“I was trying to be nice, offer to help. Forget it. I’ll go storm off and train like you said.” I pushed myself up from the table and made my way to the door to the hall.

Before I could leave, the automatic doors to the kitchen whizzed closed on their own. I tried the manual scanner, but that didn’t work. Neither did pushing or prying. With a defeated sigh I looked down at my communicator watch to find a message from Lance.

Lance: have fun in there, cowboy! ;)

Yeah... Lance is dead the second I get out of here.

“Did the door jam or something?” Y/N had come over, scaring me. I blew away the pieces of hair that hung in front of my forehead.

“Guess so. Got anything we can use as a crowbar?”

“Yeah, I always carry around a battle axe in case I run into situations just like this!” She rolled her eyes, walking over to the utensil drawer.

“What are you doing? You can’t dig through to the other side with a spoon.” I gave her a quizzical glance. She let out a dramatic huff, turning to face me.

“I’m not, genius. I’m using a knife as some sort of leverage. I can stick it somewhere else though.” It was an empty threat, but she clearly didn’t like me, so there was a chance she’d go rogue and try to kill me.

The knife definitely wasn’t strong enough to pry open the heavy doors, but I didn’t care enough to stop her. When it didn’t work, she let out an aggravated groan.

“Relax, no need to throw a fit.” I spat. Forget this stupid flirting game Lance was playing. I just wanted to be as far away from Y/N as possible.

“Oh, you mean like your little tantrums whenever you don’t get the highest praise? Lay off Red, you have a lot of nerve chastising me.”

“Look, I don’t want to be stuck in here with you either, but that isn’t going to change the fact that Lance isn’t going to open the doors.” I leaned against the wall, tilting my head back and taking a deep breath. Patience.

“Wait, Lance locked the doors? Why the hell would he do that?”

“He’s doing it out of spite. You’re not the only one who hates me on this ship.” I rolled my eyes.

“Lance! Let us out of here right now!” She shouted as she banged on the doors. I got another message from our resident “sharpshooter”.

Lance: no can do my friend! tell y/n it’s not her fault, but that since you’re a doofus, she ended up in the crosshairs.

Clearly he was lying. It was typical Lance behavior for him to trap two people in a room so that he could play space matchmaker. I let out a heavy sigh.

“The idiot said it’s not your fault, I’m,” I made air quotes with my fingers. “A ‘doofus’, and that you just ended up in the middle of it.” Y/N just rolled her eyes, continuing to bang on the door and yell at Lance. She went on like that for a few minutes before Lance spoke.

“I think I’m gonna go take a nap. I’ll catch you guys later!” He pretended to yawn, which was followed by the slowly fading sounds of his footsteps.

“That asshole.” I muttered.

“So now what? We just have to wait until he wakes up? Everyone else’s communicators are offline. This is a mess.” Y/N huffed, sliding her back down the wall, bringing her knees to her chest.

“You’ve taken out countless Galra fleets and this is what makes you give up?” I questioned, leaning back against the wall.

“Precisely. You’re just that aggravating.” She huffed, turning her head away from me as she crossed her arms. This was going to be a long day. I got another message from Lance.

Lance: how’s it going in there?

Keith: Great! :))

Lance: really? :D

Keith: No, you idiot. This is a nightmare. Now let us out of here!

Lance: sorry buddy, i’m not actually awake. i’m sleep-texting. zzz... zzz...

Keith: Lance...

Lance: keith... (*_*)

Keith: What kind of face is that?

Lance: what kind of face is urs?

Keith: That doesn’t make any sense. :\

Lance: neither do u keef

Keith: You need to stop calling me that.

Lance: only if u and y/n get along :P

Keith: That’s not gonna happen and you know it. She hates me AND she’s mad.

Lance: if she’s mad kiss her

Keith: Now why the heck would I do that?

Lance: because i won’t let u out if u don’t

Keith: That’s gotta be illegal in some way...

Lance: even if it was, who’s gonna stop me?MWAH hahahaha! get it? it’s an evil villain laugh but with a kiss lolololol >:}

Keith: The second I get out of here, you’re dead. You hear me?

Lance: better get kissin then! :~*

Keith: You suck.

Lance: and?

Keith: I hate you.

Lance: zzz... zzz... zzz...

I swear, dealing with Lance’s hijinks was taking years off my lifespan. He couldn’t possibly be serious about the whole kissing thing... could he? Before I could think about it any longer, Y/N spoke up.

“What did Lance say?”

“You can ask him when we get out of here.”

“Why can’t you just tell me? You’re the reason I’m stuck here in the first place, you owe me an explanation.” Y/N wasn’t wrong, but her attitude problem was unbearably annoying.

“I don’t owe you anything. Calm down. Lance will get bored and let us out any minute.”

“Never tell me to calm down again or I will go crazy on your sorry ass.” This was getting old fast. Maybe if I pissed her off enough the steam coming out of her ears could melt the doors...

“Calm down.” I said flatly. I just stared at her, waiting for her reaction.

“Why I oughta–” Y/N lunged at me, grabbing my forearms.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I attempted to pry her hands off of me.

“Show me what Lance said and I’ll stop. Then we can get out of here!” She shouted, reaching for my communicator watch. I blocked her maneuvers.

“No way! Besides, Lance didn’t say anything important. Now get off me!” This girl was insane!

We continued the back and forth for a few minutes, but it became clear that the only way I’d get her to stop would be to actually fight back instead of just blocking her attacks. I was not about to fight a girl I didn’t need to fight in order to survive; it’s just not how I was raised. If it was Lance, however, it’d be a different story.

“Whatever,” I undid the band of my watch and tossed it at Y/N before taking a seat at one of the tables. I made sure to keep my head down; I’d rather go back into a weblum than face her when she sees the text Lance sent.

It was silent for a minute, and I figured she was either plotting how to kill Lance, or she hadn’t seen the message yet. Either way, it was inevitable. Y/N would confront me sooner or later, and I knew that; but it didn’t make reality any easier to face.

“Is he serious? He’s gotta be joking. There’s no way in hell I– no offense Keith. Well, maybe a little offense, I don’t know.” She looks at me plainly, the only indications of emotion were vague and laced within her voice.

“None taken. And knowing Lance, this is one of those rare occasions when he’s being dead serious.” I shrugged. Y/N then tossed my watch back to me.

“I mean it’s better than having to fight to the death or something,” She stated as she began pacing around the room. “Besides, you can just kiss the top of my hand like they do in those period dramas.” She pushed herself up onto the counter, legs dangling over the edge.

“Why do I have to kiss your hand? That’s a bit old fashioned, don’t you think?”

“I figured you’d prefer that over letting me put my mouth anywhere near you. I’m actually giving you the upper hand here.”

After taking a moment to think about it, I realized Y/N was right. If she was the one to kiss me, she could lick my hand, bite me, or inject me with venom like a snake. My irrational concerns were interrupted when another message from Lance came in.

Lance: btw i’m not joking about the kissing thing...

Lance: AND!!! it has to be on the lips. not sure if i mentioned that or not :))

Keith: I am going to cut holes in every single shower cap you own >:(

“Great news!” I sneered, waving Y/N over with my hand. She peered over my shoulder as she mouthed the words on the screen.

“What the fucking quiznak Lance?!” She whisper-shouted. She stormed off a short distance in anger.

“You do realize you said–”

“I know what I said, Mullet. Let’s just get this over with.” She snapped, rolling her eyes.

I slowly made my way over to where she stood, trying to steady my breathing. I was praying that my face wasn’t red, but that dream was crushed when Y/N opened her mouth.

“Did Lance send you a pickup line to use or something? Why are you all red in the face?” She asked, her tone a bit kinder, but that wasn’t saying much.

“No, that’s not– no.”

“Then what is it?”

“None of your business, that’s what it is. Now please just shut up and we can get out of here.” I snapped. I was losing my patience, something that always happened quickly whenever Y/N was around.

Lance’s text from before was echoing in my head. Albeit, “if she’s mad kiss her” was terrible advice, but I didn’t exactly have another plan to get out of here. It would be a good way to stop Y/N from opening her loud mouth, but maybe I would just wait until she calmed down.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me? If you think for one second I’m going to let you get away with trying to tell me what to do I’ll snap you in half before y– mmphf!”

It didn’t completely register until after our lips parted, but at least I was correct in assuming the kiss would keep her quiet. I was a bit shocked myself; who would’ve thought I’d kiss someone just to make them stop talking? We were frozen in place, staring into each other’s eyes. Our expressions said nothing, and although the kitchen was silent, I knew both of our minds were not.

“Keith–” Y/N’s breathless call of my name was interrupted by the whirring sound of the kitchen doors slidung back open, revealing a smug Lance.

Despite his presence and the now open doors, we hadn’t turned away from one another. We were still staring at each other, now with both of our faces burning up.

“Alright, you two lovebirds are free to go. Oh, and next time, just use the door repair kit that’s on the floor of the pantry. Anyway, bye!” And with that, Lance darted back out the door, his screaming fading as he went further down the hall.

“So, Y/N... that was quite the kiss, considering you hate my guts, hmm?” I joked, stepping a bit closer to her. Her face was still red, if not darker than it was before.

Her eyes widened, shocked. She peered over at the opened door before returning her gaze back to me. She seemed a lot more shy than I’d expect. It took some effort to hold back the laughter that was threatening to escape me.

“I’m going to spit on your grave one day; you better watch it, Mullet.” Y/N spat, looking away after a beat. She tore her hands from mine a moment after, bringing the blushing rosiness back to her cheeks.

She kept her head down as she pushed past me to leave the kitchen, punching Lance in the arm on her way out.

—

Hey! I’m so sorry this took so long! I’ve had a bit of writer’s block when it came to writing requests but I finally got it! I hope you enjoy it! Hopefully the time between writing didn’t make it seem too disconnected from the rest of the story! :)

Thank you again for the request! @biqherosix

[sparkling-moonbeam]

💜Scaramouche x Reader💜

A/N: This is an idea that suddenly popped out of my mind so I decided to write it. The reader is gender-neutral and this is a fluff. Enjoy reading and have a nice day!

Oh and there are some curse words cause it's Scara.

💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜🔮💜

Being a harbinger is something you can’t be fully proud of. At least, that’s how you feel upon staring at the badge the Tsaritsa gave you. But you don’t really have a choice, you can’t just pass an opportunity of making your life a bit easier. Even if you try to deny the offer, your head would be a target for the Fatui. Surviving in the cold weather of Snezhnaya is already a pain in the back, you don’t want to make it worse.

Your job as a harbinger is really simple. You seldom cut someone’s throat as you’re more often assigned in “gathering information from the inside” type of missions. When it comes to highly secured territories, you’re the one to take the lead. You don’t need assistance or anything as you mostly take the act you also planned and set it in motion. Maybe it’s from the experience of once working in front of many people, wearing a mask to suit everyone’s taste, pursuing them to trust you.

As the Tsaritsa told you, you’re competent. A people pleaser like you can read people so easily that one look can immediately give you an inference on the personality you will need to portray on your target. When it comes to finishing someone, you do it quickly. As soon as you got their trust, it was also the time to sing them a lullaby to their own doom.

A sigh escaped your lips, being a harbinger sets you in the boundary of everything. It always felt like you’re in between of opposing arguments. It’s thrilling but also confusing, maybe it’s just your morals kicking you in the guts but it’s too late for that. The moment you bow down in front of the Tsaritsa’s throne, it was all gone.

“I never knew a deaf could be a harbinger.”

Your eyes shifted from your badge to the source of the voice. The sixth harbinger, casually hanging out in your office’s couch. He must have entered your office while you’re busy paying attention on your thoughts.

“Do you have any idea how many times I knocked on your door? I would’ve thought you’ve been killed in your office if I didn’t know you any better,” he continued.

“I’m thinking about important stuff, I didn’t notice.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t even bother to apologize, how rude.”

You blinked at him, staring to his eyes. Scaramouche, or also known as Balladeer has been the one to always barge into your office like it was his own for the first months. The first time you met him was just like this, except the fact that you’re working on paper documents that time and he didn’t knocked, he just barged in. You remember how he didn’t ask your name and where you from, just straight up gave the file the Tsaritsa wanted to give to you, informing you with a bunch of small insults here and there before leaving and slamming the door.

Your first thought was maybe he didn’t like you or your impression, not that it matters anyway. Until you found out that he also does that to other harbingers, especially when he’s having too much to work with in his plate.

“You know, no matter how long you looked at that badge, it won’t disappear.”

You look at the balladeer with his statement. He stood up, slowly walking towards your table as he crossed his arms. “I’ve been wanting to ask you this since it’s disturbing my thoughts, are you really…chickening out? After being here for so long, that’s quite disappointing.”

You let out a scoff at his question, your eyes narrowing at his glinted eyes. You know how Scaramouche is, the way he works with his words to initiate tension. You won’t fall for it but still you wanted to admit how well he can cause tension and get away from it.

“You’re asking…me? What happened to your ‘good intuition’, the sixth harbinger?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “That’s more like you. I just hate how you always look at your stupid badge every time I see you, it irks me.”

“That’s more like your problem, not mine.”

“I hate it still, so I will need an explanation.”

“Wow, is this manipulation 101?”

“Y/n.” He sternly called your name, his eyes softening a bit. “I wanted to know if something is bugging your mind, I’ll help if I can.”

You remained silent as a sigh escaped your lips. You reached for the file you’re supposed to read a while ago if only you didn’t space out. “It was nine days ago..”

He hummed urging you to continue. He sat down on the chair opposite to yours, waiting for your next words.

“When I learned something about a certain topic, it’s…quite bizarre.”

You looked at him seriously, his indigo orbs meeting yours. You can see how his trying to listen…how his patience is slowly thinning out on your slow words and his own pretention.

A smile formed your lips. “Gaslighting. Oh, what a bizarre topic and thing to do, right Scaramouche?”

You dramatically placed your hand on your chest as you gave him a look of pity. He clicked his tongue before standing up, fixing his hat in the process.

“Fuck you and your stupid badge.”

You laughed. His visible frustration is entertaining, especially when he cussed. Something about his cussing words just hits deeply, you can’t help but laugh.

“I waste my time for this stupid shit. I should’ve known.”

As he took a step away from table, you quickly stood up, reaching for his hand to stop him. He looked back at you with an annoyed expression. He was about to slap your hands off him but he stopped as soon as he heard you talk.

“Wait, alright. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not half wrong but..I get the glimpse of what you’re trying to do. Just sit down. I promise, no more jokes.”

It took a couple of seconds before he spoke up. “No more fucking jokes.”

You nodded. He let out a sigh before he propped down on the chair again. You sat again too as you compose yourself.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You bit the insides from your cheek to prevent yourself from chuckling. That’s more like him, you thought.

“This badge isn’t mine, dumbass.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it from an agent? A traitor perhaps? Just say the word and I’ll finish them off-”

“No need for violence, it was from a harbinger.”

His eyes widened a bit. “Did you…killed a harbinger? Y/n, that’s not how you raise your rank. You’re a trai-”

“I didn’t kill someone, why are you insisting that?”

He shrugged, leaning on the chair as he hums. He must have been playing with you as a revenge from earlier. What a child.

“It’s from a harbinger that’s been bugging me. Not in a bad way,” you cleared out before he can even decide to say a violent statement again.

“Bugging you but not in a bad way? What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

You mentally facepalmed, of course he wouldn’t know. He probably never felt that way for someone too. Now, you’re rethinking your decisions on telling him. Time for a more direct approach.

“I think I like someone.”

Silence.

You were replied by silence for almost a minute before a chuckled erupted from him. You shook your head as you listen to his laugh.

“You like someone? And you stole their badge because you like them? What a creepy move, are you a stalker?”

You rolled your eyes before you stand up, holding the file on your arms. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll need to submit this file before dinner time, bye.”

As you held the doorknob, you can still hear his laughter from your back. Maybe, you’ll tell him some other time but, you promised yourself. You even practice on the mirror on what to say, it’s ridiculous. Your eyes landed on the badge. Every time you look at it, it reminds you of the glint in his eyes then you’ll see your reflection, making you ask yourself on how did you get yourself into this.

“Hey, Scara.”

You turned around, his laughed slowly stopped as he looked at you.

“Remember the camp last month?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why are you asking me about such a horrible day.”

“Childe accidentally took your badge then replace it since you were pretty mad that day. It won’t be a good result if you’ve known he touched some of your belongings.”

He blinked. “And you didn’t tell me? That rascal, good thing he know what will happen.”

“I actually found it so here you go.”

You hummed, taking a last look on the badge before you throw it to him. He easily caught it with one hand, staring at it for a second. You saw how his eyes widen a bit before glancing at you again.

“This badge…is mine and what you said about it earlier…”

Your throat felt dry the moment you meet each other eyes. You tried to smile, forcing yourself to formulate some words your mind came up with.

“You’re making me feel complicated things, it’s unfitting for a harbinger.”

[rainyearning]

unavernales​:

“i don’t know what his price is going to be, so we’re both gonna play nice.” the hand serghei has on noori’s thigh tightens as he rounds a corner. they were driving out to see a witch serghei had met some decades ago. they kept in touch, partly for business and partly because serghei knew a valuable ally when he saw one. having noori tag along wasn’t… practical. nor was it strategic. however, serghei’s obsession with keeping his kitten as close as possible won out any intelligent thought. serghei’s request also had to do directly with noori, so it only seemed fair.

sure, serghei was visiting to get some of his blades enchanted. check if he’s gotten any sort of hex or supernatural tracking spell on him. however… he’s also requested sujin’s ear to make his and noori’s sex life a bit easier. hearing that sujin had gotten a new pet himself only makes serghei more confident in the witch empathizing with his… dilemma.

“you fuckin’ listening to me? i don’t want you causing trouble. especially with his fuckin’ dog. i mean it, noori.” he fixes his gaze on the cat sitting pretty in the passenger seat. it’s one of the reasons serghei doesn’t like having chauffeurs: noori looked so damn good in luxury cars. “be on your best behavior. no bullshit. or i’m taking away the damn cat tower.”

He had never heard of this Sujin person, a powerful witch sounded both rather interesting and also.. dangerous. Mostly interesting though. The cat could only roll his eyes when he was told to play nice. As if he needed to be told to play nice. “I’m always nice. Pretty delightful, if you ask me. People like me.” His gaze wandered out of the window, his lips.. a tiny bit pouty. He didn’t want to really tag a long to that meeting. He had been so comfortable at home. For him it was supposed to be a no pants kind of day, just comfortably laying on one of the leather couches, watching entertaining reality TV while having some catnip. But Serghei had other plans. And so he was nicely dressed, black tight pants, a short sleeved turle neck and a comfy, leopard printed coat. “Of course I am fucking listening. Your voice cuts through any of my thoughts.. so annoying.” He snorted softly. “If that stupid dog stays away from me, there is no need to worry. I just.. can’t promise that I keep my claws to myself when he has his nose near my butt. That’s weird.” Dogs are weird. But the little threat? it causes Noori to actually laugh, honestly. “I feel like taking away my cat tower would be a bigger punishment to you. You seem to enjoy having me on that tree a lot.” he got stuck once by accident and since then, he had been stuck in plenty situations just because it was a surprisingly sensual experience. “It’s like a damn sex swing..” 

“He has a cat.” Sujin was digging through a cabinet in his office. It wasn’t really.. an office. Sure, he had his clients meet with him in there, expensive old furniture for them to sit down, but it was mostly a place he worked in. Fixing spells, potions, trinkets. Hoarding all kinds of herbs and items he needed for enchantments. Books.. so many of them. He hardly took Kieran in here because he could imagine that the overall scent could be a bit overwhelming. But then. Serghei was bringing his pet and Sujin, he so proudly showed off his bestest boy. “Come here.. this calls for the pretty collar.” He had put some clothes out for Kieran to wear but now that he saw his boy, he felt like another collar fitted so much better. A velvet one with a golden moon attached to it. He easily fixed it around his pets neck. “Listen, babyboy, just don’t let that cat overwhelm you. Their master informed me that he might be a bit of a menace. Try to read them and you should be okay.” He gave Kieran a good look when he was done, nodding slowly. “Hand me some mugs, will you? I made some tea..” But before his pup can do his little task, Sujin takes hold of the males chin, giving him two quick kisses. “Who is my good boy?”

[chateautae]

saudade | kth. (m)

saudade ; “a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something/someone that one cares for and/or loves.”

➵ summary : a demanding idol lifestyle was something taehyung and yourself were all too familiar with. it wasn’t so hard when considering your unconditional love for one another, but lately, taehyung wasn’t the same anymore; and you decide it's time to find out why.

➵ pairing : idol!taehyung x choreographer!reader

➵ genre : angst, smut, fluff (the holy trinity), idol!au, established relationship!au

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 16k

➵ warnings : sexual content, swearing, dom + sub dynamics, dom!tae, fingering, oral (f. receiving), lots of dirty talk, t e a s i n g because let’s face it this is tae, big dick!tae, cock sliding, marking, restraint (with his own hands), unprotected sex (wrap it up peeps), rough sex, mushy i miss you sex, lots of feels, tae undresses reader (it’s hot i promise), praising, name kink, slight body worshipping, slight brat-handling, forced orgasm, creampie, one spank, tiny impreg kink, aftercare

➵ a/n : wow, my first fic on tumblr!! i’m beyond excited to finally be sharing my stories and writing, hopefully i can let you escape into a whole new world and enjoy my works! comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

2:27AM. 

He still wasn't home. 

Texts on delivered, calls unanswered, radio silence on all social media. 

And it wasn’t just tonight, it was every night. 

Everyday. 

And it’s been a month. A long, grueling month.

A month where he only acknowledged your presence just once and called it a day. A month where he returned so late and left early enough the following morning you didn't see him. Somedays, he never even came home at all. You made suggestions to hang out together, and he declined them on the premise of 'too busy'. 

It hurt beyond comprehension. 

It's like he wasn't even there.

But you knew he was. 

He was the one who moved your sleeping body from the couch to your shared bed every night, a sweet gesture of his that gave you hope maybe everything wasn't so bad. Sometimes, though, you woke up on the same couch the next morning, knowing he most likely stayed the night elsewhere. 

You tried to remain indifferent to the treatment, figuring he was just stressed with his tightly-packed schedule that didn't always include you. 

But it was beginning to feel heart-breaking, disappointing, but most of all, so lonely. It was starting to feel like he was slipping away from you, like you were losing him, relationship tearing at the seams. It left you nothing but heartbroken and afraid. Afraid of where your relationship had gone, afraid of whatever happened to the never-ending love you two shared. You both harboured an array of feelings for one another that infinitely tethered you two together, kept you madly in love and nearly impossible to separate.  

So where was that now? How could it have all changed within the span of a month? 

You’ve survived comebacks with him before and he never entertained this kind of behaviour. Maybe you had a fight or two about someone cancelling on a plan or working too hard but nothing as excruciating as this. 

Your relationship began to feel empty, so meaningless. And the more he was distant, the stronger the pain grew and your love seemed to be losing its vitality.

Why would he do this? What's gotten into him? Did I do something wrong? Why doesn't he care anymore? you asked yourself repeatedly for weeks.

You’d think work was the issue, where your relationship had to be purposefully low-profile and subdued. But ever since the inception of your relationship, Taehyung never found any of that difficult. If anything, he loved it the most. You could easily leave it to the 'forbidden’ or 'looked down upon' stigma of you two dating to make everything 100x hotter, more exciting, and fuck, did you and especially Taehyung enjoy fiddling around with the concept as if you were some modern-day remake of Romeo and Juliet. 

The sneaking around, the thrill of moments only you two shared, the promises you kept, the secret kissing or displays of affection, your romantic status like classified information some were only privy to. 

But you didn't have to worry about suddenly losing your 'Romeo', though, because Taehyung wasn't as stupid as he was (no offence, Shakespeare). 

Taehyung remained business-like whenever he needed to be and tended to his work accordingly. He was always cautious of the consequences your relationship warranted, and worked hard to prove your love was worth it despite his chaotic life and the challenges everyone warned you of. 

Taehyung has also always been mischievous, a little rebellious, someone who doesn't always like following whatever he's told; so this relationship was just his cup of tea, making it hard to believe he would grow tired of it considering his well-precedented admiration. 

But now, you weren’t so sure. 

Now he seemed practically devoid of the fact that you two were even dating. He didn’t naturally gravitate towards you anymore like before, instead increasingly gravitating away from you. He didn't linger around to catch a moment with you anymore, didn't come looking for you, didn't spark conversation whether it was important or not, even stopped looking at you as a whole. It seemed like being in your presence was something he avoided rather than just didn't do, like he wanted to fill his time elsewhere and sometimes… you swore it felt intentional. 

As if he didn't want to be around you. 

You sought communicating with him about everything, pinning all the blame on his mountain-high stress and how busy he was thinking you could help ease his mind; but he stayed firm on the notion he was just fine. You obviously knew something was up and wanted to confront him, but you feared pestering or nagging him, never wishing to add to his stress.

And you get that, you really do. He has this demanding, grandiose life that you should understand is incredibly stressful and time-consuming. But you're going to be honest... you fucking missed Kim Taehyung. A lot. 

Granted, you saw him at work, even more so now with a comeback dawning on the group, but it wasn’t the same. 

You missed being home with him. You missed the way his big arms cuddled you when you watched a movie together, you missed 'attempting' to cook dinner with him, you missed your snuggly mornings where he wouldn’t let you go until he laid at least a hundred kisses on you. You missed him tickling you when you least expected it, randomly playing any track of jazz or slow music, swaying you until he made you giggle and you missed him never forgetting to kiss your forehead whenever he parted from you, even if he had to be discreet where work was concerned. 

The cute, couply things you missed, sure. But the one thing that consistently clouded your mind and bothered you nearly every second of everyday... 

Sex. 

That active as hell sex life you two had, you missed every damn detail about it and your body desperately yearned for its revival.

After a month's dryspell, you craved Taehyung so badly it wasn’t funny anymore. From all the times he eyed you suggestively, to the way his large, touchy hands ended up all over you, to the way he eventually laid you down, lost himself in his torturous but pleasurable teasing, maybe even tying you up or handcuffing you in the process, getting you dripping wet before he eventually fucked you just right simply out of his own desire.

Nope. 

You can't do this, it only made you hornier than you already were and fuck, did anything you try on yourself not work at all. You were feeling greedy. Going from doing it nearly three times a week during quarantine lockdown with him to suddenly having gone a month sex-free left you losing your mind. 

There used to be so much fire, so much love, so much passion between you two. It was intoxicating, so ardent that you could feel yourselves aching for each other in your bones.  But now, all of that felt either non-existent or buried so deep underground you couldn't feel much of anything. And of course, the absence of sex and the cute stuff collectively sucked, sure. But what scared you the most were your own thoughts. 

What if he's finally tired of you? What if he wants to focus on his career? What if he's found someone new, someone that isn’t staff, someone much easier and less burdensome than you..

You stopped. 

A dark web of assumptions swarmed your head, all seeming completely plausible and welcoming a dull, daunting sadness to loom over you. Your chest constricted at the thought of your fickle importance to him, wincing at the possibility it could be true. You sat in silence in your lonely home, leaving you to ponder when the apartment began to feel so forlorn in the first place.

The photographs he took framed the walls, the old albums he owned littered your shelves and even one of the many jackets he owned was currently sprawled across your couch. You noticed the way his presence was so deeply rooted in the home, yet he felt as distant as ever. 

You settled in on your couch, cradling his jacket at the thought of how much longer this would continue, forcing yourself to sleep in hopes of ridding the feeling of emptiness from your chest.

But you couldn't.

Your mind drowned struggling to sleep, giving up on shut-eye as a whole until eventually you began swimming, swimming through your emotions and one particular thought stood out to you; this wasn't fucking fair. 

It just wasn't, none of this was. You can't let him continue this, can't remain on the fence about doing something and you certainly cannot just let this go. It was your duty as one of the active partners in this relationship to fight for its life, so that's exactly what you were going to do—with one conclusion you were convinced would work. 

You should give him a taste of his own medicine. 

You decided to be upset, ignore him and see how he reacts. Respond with the same curt responses, not give him the time of day, 'naturally' gravitate away from him. Hell, you could start tomorrow by waking up earlier than him and seeing how he responds to your empty side of bed for once. 

That's if he even comes home tonight. 

This seemed like the only sure-fire method of gaining his attention. Maybe if you acted unreasonably, far from how you usually do he would finally pay you any mind, have to approach and confront you. You’d always let him off the hook on the account of him being an idol, but now he’s taken it too far. 

Your mind grew hazy somewhere in between thinking and shuffling on the couch, only the sight of a vacant apartment and the scent of his cologne lulling you to sleep. 

You groaned as your eyes fluttered open, the reality of last night resurfacing as you remembered the impromptu plan for today, cursing how early you had to wake up to avoid him. 

You lazily rubbed at your eyes as they landed on the clock on your bedside table, suddenly registering you were in a different room altogether. It was then you felt the softness of your pillow, the silk of your sheets, the familiarity of your room's walls coming into view—all of it blissful until you froze at the feeling of weight around your waist, a quick glance confirming it was an arm. It was then you felt your neck being fanned by hot breaths, your back flush against someone's bare chest and you felt your heart speed up. 

Is he...?

Thinking you're getting ahead of yourself, you're proven just right when you turn around to a face you knew all too well. 

Taehyung's soft figure rose and fell as he slept soundlessly next to you. 

You instantly softened, in a bit of shock because he was right there, angelic as ever as he breathed calmly and cuddled your smaller figure into him.

He still held you to fall asleep, huh?

A smile found your face at the thought as you admired the details of his; thick, pretty lashes pressed against the skin underneath his eyes, his large, veiny hand tucked under his cheek as the other draped you, his pink, pillowy lips sealed together in an adorable pout. You shifted onto your side and nuzzled closer into him, listening to his rhythmic breathing and watching his broad chest rise and fall. You melted into his presence, soaking in all the glory that was Kim Taehyung. 

You then remembered he was always here, he did give you his personal time; you just didn't see him. You knew he moved you at night, tucked you in, maybe kissed you goodnight. Maybe he had moments where he felt terrible for being away, whispered sweet apologies and promises into your ear.

But then again, you wouldn’t know, you didn't spend enough time together for you to know. 

A sudden movement of his arm and that eerie thought snapped you back into reality, instantly scolding yourself for getting distracted by him. You had to focus on how you felt, hone in your emotions and refrain from doting on your precious boyfriend. 

You wouldn't be able to ignore him later if you didn't start now.

You were forced to leave his warmth, having to ready yourself for today's rehearsals and resolving numerous things for however long this would continue; you needed Taehyung to feel what you've been feeling all this time, needed him to feel the absence of your presence just as you had felt his. 

And you'll be damned if you were going to be easy about it. 

A couple hours had passed as you stretched, yawning after revising a rehearsal video, the murmurs of staff keeping you awake. Stretching for what felt like the millionth time, you slightly jumped at the sound of the studio doors opening just before the scheduled time. You watched it mindfully, your heart speeding up at the thought of suddenly seeing Taehyung so soon. 

Don’t let it be him first, don’t let it be him first, don’t let it be him first. 

You calmed down once your eyes set on 5 of the members ambling in, watching them greet people until you eventually spotted Jimin and Taehyung trailing behind, thankfully too occupied with giggling to see you. 

You rejoiced in the lack of eye contact until you decided to sneak a peek at Taehyung, mortified when you found his eyes suddenly locking with yours. The shock made you turn away instantly, swallowing what felt like your heart down your throat. 

Your ears were welcomed to the boys making conversation, playfully teasing the 95's for apparently being late and in the midst you managed to shyly greet everyone... except Taehyung.  

And this didn't go unnoticed by him, who already felt worried since he woke up to your cold, unoccupied side of the bed this morning. Taehyung instantly found it off-putting, since he usually knew your schedule and left him wondering what reason you had to disappear without informing him. 

Curiosity flooded him as the thought continued to bug him, what did she have to do so early in the morning? His inquiries turned into actions when he began passing through the boys, immediately stepping towards you. 

"Morning, Y/N. Everything alright?" Taehyung innocently reached for your shoulder once he settled beside you. You almost let him do it, making you reminiscent of when he actually gave a shit about you, but you remembered your little scheme and swiftly pulled away.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Taehyung immediately froze up, disbelief riddling his handsome features. You've never once rejected his touch so blatantly. 

You would never do that, he thought.

Taehyung paused his hand at the point he would have touched you, tugging at his bottom lip uncomfortably before rubbing the back of his neck. You internally winced at the hurt you could see on his face through the studio mirrors, forcing yourself to stand your ground as he feebly spoke again.

"You don't seem fine. Why did you wake up so early this morning? You didn't tell me about it..." He scratched his neck awkwardly, a hint of a pout in his tone.

"I don't know, I just couldn't sleep. I don't need to tell you my every move, Taehyung." You responded curtly.

"I know..but you could've told me, Jagiya. We could've spent the morning together in the apartment if you were up so early." Taehyung looked at you in protest, lowering his voice so others couldn't hear. 

The use of your pet name after a long time instantly ticked you off, even more so his proposal, he could say all that cute shit but couldn't act upon it? 

Irritation nestled its way under your skin, causing you to whisper dryly, “Just get to stretching, Taehyung, we have a lot to go over today.”

His jaw clenched as he swallowed, a troubled expression painting his face. He managed a small 'okay' before he unwillingly stepped away.

Taehyung was beyond confused; something was wrong, seriously wrong. It wasn't just your harsh tone or icy aura, but even in the way you addressed him so plainly as Taehyung. 

He didn't understand, he's seen you mad or annoyed before, but nothing along these lines and he couldn’t piece together the reason for your attitude. It seemed like nothing would ameliorate your mood either, leaving Taehyung cursing whatever evil thing was making you so upset. 

Despite experiencing that bitter demeanour, however, Taehyung was forced to watch you act friendly with everyone else during practice.. except him. 

And what was even worse, he watched you do so for the rest of the week. You had gone a whole week with your (what he found to be) ridiculous behaviour, everything about you so different with him he was left consumed with frustration. 

He watched as you continued to treat everyone else the same, getting a little too close to them than he liked. It was something he noticed in the weeks previous to this, but now silently pissed him off even more because this time you decided to purposefully exclude him; and he hated it. You barely spoke or tended to him over the course of the week, Taehyung's envy blooming in his chest at the way you acted so close to everyone yet treated him, your boyfriend, like a stranger. 

He didn't understand why he was the only one, you talked to Jimin about what he did on his days off, pretended to box with Jungkook, danced around with Yoongi and Hoseok and goofed around with Jin and Namjoon. Hell, he even found you socializing with other staff and dancers more than usual. 

Taehyung couldn't fucking stand it, what in the world was wrong with you? Not only did he figure something was clearly wrong, but that he clearly did something wrong. 

He was beyond confused, annoyed, but more so worried as to what was fuelling your actions. Taehyung didn't know what he did, and he couldn't manage not knowing anymore, most of all despising the feeling that he was suddenly losing you. 

He quickly resolved after a gruesome week he wasn't letting you go after rehearsals tonight, giving a fat fuck you to his evening plans and trading them in for confronting you. 

Your eyes stung from a week’s worth of waking up at the ass crack of dawn to avoid Taehyung, rubbing your eyes as you slung your purse over your shoulder to end another day at the studio. Thinking you were alone, you swiveled around to an empty room and surprisingly spotted Taehyung.

You jumped a little, not expecting him to still be here when you knew he had dinner plans tonight. 

Did he cancel them? 

Suddenly realizing this is the first time in over a month you’ve been in a room with him, alone, and especially after the week you've spent purposefully dodging him, anxiety flooded your chest. 

Your eyes flittered around, nibbling on your lip awkwardly as you pretended he wasn't there. You eventually met his eyes and he returned your hesitant gaze with an intense one, nearly peering into your very soul. He remained unbothered with his hands tucked into his pockets, and now that you were finally viewing him, couldn't help but swoon over his look for the day. 

He really chose to wear that damn grey hoodie with matching grey sweatpants that makes you weak, hair styled in the messy curls he's been sporting ever since his perm and wearing that one silver hoop earring you found incredibly hot. 

He looked like a fluffy puppy but also a full-course meal crafted by God himself. 

This isn't fucking fair at all. 

He noticed you staring at him and his head cocked to the side, studying you with a hint of a smirk. He raised an eyebrow tauntingly, like he wouldn't let you go after trapping you in what felt like shackles around your ankles. You could only swallow dryly, averting your eyes and reminding yourself you had to get out of his trance

His power over you was immense, especially when he flipped his curly fringe from his eyes, examining you with such a fiere, unreadable expression you shifted nervously on your feet. 

How is he so dominant when he's standing a whole 15 fucking feet away from you?

You watched a self-satisfying grin play onto Taehyung’s lips, loving the way you squirmed under his undivided attention until he suddenly began stepping in your direction, sheer panic overtaking you. You weren't ready, you didn't really think of the result of this plan and now that it's worked, you knew you were in trouble. 

Taehyung is unpredictable as hell, you never knew what was running through his mind and which idea he’d pick to entertain. You malfunctioned at the thought and your flight response kicked in, making you step towards the door at light speed. 

"I..uh.. I have to go." You stuttered and purposely ducked around him. You felt relieved once you passed his deep stare, until you felt his slender fingers suddenly grapple onto your wrist. 

Shit. 

"You're not going anywhere." His low voice reverberated in the room, sending currents through your body. You refused to look at him, knowing it would make you squeal, but you stabilized your voice to speak. 

"I..", you swallowed, "don't think it's your place to say." 

You felt his hold on your wrist tighten, knowing that pissed him off. 

A small moment of silence passed and you thought he'd given up, relaxing until he suddenly yanked you towards him, your smaller figure crashing into his chest. He held you against his tall body as his eyes locked with your timid ones, forcing the confrontation of your obvious issue with him. 

You took a stubborn step back instead of giving in, arms crossed. Taehyung had enough of you evading his look and gently lifted your chin with his index finger.

"My place? It's been a fucking week and you haven't even looked at me, Y/N. What is your problem?" He emphasized with annoyance, but his soft eyes gave away he was just desperate for an answer. 

"Nothing's wrong, Taehyung, I'm just tired."

"Oh really? Tired? Y/N, don't think I didn't notice you ignore me for an entire week. I thought something was wrong in general but clearly you have a problem with me and only me. What's your deal?" He vented in frustration, tone utterly displeased.

You only scoffed disbelievingly, looking towards the ground in search of something to hold back your piled-high emotions. 

Taehyung grew tired of your silence and sighed with dejection. He cupped your cheeks and looked at you seriously, "Look at me, bubs, what's so wrong? Did I do something?" the newfound frailty in his voice left you sucking in a breath of guilt. 

You really wanted to voice how you felt, teetering on the possibility until you suddenly became aware you'd be requesting demands from one of the busiest people on Earth.

 Your tongue habitually tied itself. 

"It's just.. It's not important, Taehyung. Let me go." You abruptly turned out of his hold, locking your jaw tightly. 

"Why in God's name would I let you go? Something's wrong, Jagiya, and that's always going to be important to me." Taehyung squeezed your arms affectionately, suddenly warming you to him. 

You could instantly feel your emotions conflicting inside, flooding your chest with regret yet frustration so heavy you needed air. Your eyes were beginning to reveal your vulnerability, trying to blink away threatening tears. 

"Taehyung, just let me go, it's absolutely nothing." Your voice sounded shakily unconvincing and yet, you were tugging yourself away as if he would believe you. 

"It's not nothing, I can clearly see something wrong. Why won't you just tell me?" 

"Because I don't want to tell you, Taehyung. It's really just nothing." 

"You keep saying it's nothing but I can see it in your eyes, you're upset, Jagiya. I know you." Taehyung spoke matter-of-factly, his grip and tone growing desperate.

"I'm not upset, I'm just exhausted." 

"Exhuasted..” Taehyung trailed, licking his lips. “Of course, because now you're waking up earlier than you usually do in the morning and on top of that without even fucking telling me why." His tone grew irritated as he scoffed, looking away from you.

You instantly grew annoyed. 

"And I told you I don't need to tell you my every move, Kim. Why are you even so pissed about it?” 

"Did you just.. family name me?" Taehyung narrowed his eyes

"So what if I did?" You deadpanned. 

Taehyung let out a deep sigh. 

"I’m pissed cause I got worried, okay? Not everyone has a situation like ours where anyone could do shit to you because of me, so I like knowing where you are." Taehyung stressed with a serious tone. "And listen, I’m not letting you go until you tell me what's wrong. I'm fucking serious, Jagi, you did not just ignore me all week only to tell me nothing's wrong." 

"And I'm not gonna say anything. I'm fucking serious, Taehyung." You mimicked him, hoping he'd let you go. 

Taehyung dragged his tongue along the inside of his cheek and chuckled dryly, your impossibility unbelievable to him. He pursed his lips before slowly releasing you, his hands up in mock surrender. 

"Fine, you can leave then." 

You took his words without a second thought and immediately turned for the door. You had just cracked it open before Taehyung’s hand suddenly smacked it shut from behind, making you turn around startled. 

He abruptly pinned you against the door with the weight of his body, locking you in with both arms. He leveled himself to your height and peered directly into your eyes.

"And I told you, I'm not letting you go, Ms. Y/L/N." Taehyung now mimicked you as you felt him dominate you with a degree of alpha-male that left you entranced and unable to move. He drew himself closer to your face, so close that he granted no room for you to breathe. You could only stand in defeat, your doe eyes wide as you flashed them to his lips and back to his eyes. 

Taehyung couldn't resist how much he wanted you anymore.

"I always forget how challenging you can be." He spoke in his deepest, sultriest tone, that damn bass paired with his dancing eyes causing you to bite your lip. 

Taehyung watched you do so and grew hot, finding you irresistible when you were acting impossible yet became putty in his hands. You balled your hands into fists against his chest as he dangerously inched towards your neck, his proximity shooting arousal through your blood. 

His scent was intoxicating, resurfacing the numerous thoughts you had of him in his absence. He manifested butterflies in your chest,  knowing you had to resist him yet found yourself giving in.

He finally ducked into your neck, anticipating the connection of his lips until he only ghosted your skin. He breathed against you purposefully to elicit a reaction, gifted his desire when he felt your body lean into him and breath hitch. 

You hated that you wanted him to kiss you already. You craved him so desperately, so in need of his touch that just the feeling of his body pushing you against the door was enough to make you press your thighs together. 

And little did you know, a month and a week without you left Taehyung dying to devour you. 

As if noticing you getting impatient, he pulled you towards him by your waist and his lips finally crashed onto your neck, a silent groan escaping you as his plush lips began mouthing sensually. You let out a breathy moan but gathered the courage to speak up, knowing full well the high creeping up on you and you needed to get back at him.

"Maybe if you were home more often you'd remember." 

A small laugh escaped Taehyung, "So that's what this is about?" The sudden puff of his breath made you want to jump him. He deliberately pushed his hips into yours, shooting jolts throughout your core once you felt the familiar prodding of something hard. He began sliding one of his hands up and down your waist, almost in an effort to distract you. 

"Of course it is, Tae. You're never fucking home." You spoke with vexation, growing both sexually and emotionally frustrated over the way he was pressing you up against the door and inviting a stirring feeling to constrict your insides. He brought his thigh in between your legs, slightly grinding against you as he added pressure to your heat and sucked your sweet spot.

"I'm never fucking home, huh? Who do you think moves you from the couch to our bed? Makes sure you're comfortable and tucks you in? Kisses you goodnight?" He asked rhetorically, letting his teeth bite at your supple flesh and embellish you with his favourite purple marks.

"T-that's not the point, Taehyung. I'm not awake. H-how does that count as you being home?" You retaliated as best you could, snaking your hands to grab the nape of his neck, fingers trailing into the curly ends of his hair. He groaned so audibly that you grew shamelessly hornier.

"Because I do come home. I sleep next to you in our bed, even cuddle you." He began sucking underneath your jaw, wrapping his arm around your torso to press you flush against him. He kissed down your throat trying to bite and leave more hickies, pushing you back for support.

"I-I just told you, that doesn't count, Tae. You... come home when I'm asleep and leave before I wake up. I-I never see you." You tried to maintain your composure, hands hugging his head close to you. 

"But we already see each other here, don't we? You see me at practice, meetings, in the building... no?" He suddenly came off your neck and his hand flanked to your chin, advancing for a kiss. But immediate annoyance flooded you upon registering his words, pulling your face back. 

"Are you kidding me? You count that as seeing each other? All we do is rehearse choreography and work together. How is that 'seeing' each other?" You asked, baffled at his audacity. 

"Because we're at least together, aren't we? Isn't that all that matters?" Taehyung looked at you as if you were the ridiculous one, ignoring your concerns and trying to kiss you again. You immediately removed yourself from him and pushed him back, his hands letting you go.

"That's not the issue, Tae. The issue is that you're really busy and I get that, but we literally haven't done anything together in the last month. And the reason that sounds insane to me is because we work and live together, you'd expect that somewhere in that time we would’ve done something... but we haven't." You emphasized as you pled your case. 

"Princess, we've been over this. I told you at the beginning of our comeback that our time together was gonna be limited. I remember you agreeing to that and understanding. Why is this coming up now?" 

"So going an entire month neglecting your ‘princess' is what you meant? Your 'limited' seems more like 'nothing at all'.” You air quoted and crossed your arms, becoming annoyed with his ambiguity and sudden use of another pet name. 

"Okay, that's not what I'm saying. All I'm saying is that comeback season is busy, it's one thing after another and I can't always keep up with everything. There’s a lot going on; our album, company business, don’t get me started on the mountain of work with promotions, concerts, filming and photoshoots. I'm even making an entire fucking mixtape. I’m trying my damn best here." Taehyung vouched for himself, holding his hands up to defend against your accusations.

"And I'm not saying you don't try, I understand that you're busy but what I’m saying is I don't even feel important to you anymore, let alone a priority. We barely interact, you never do anything with me or talk to me, but for everyone else you’ve got all the effort in the world to spare. I get that you're an idol, I always see you working hard and I'm proud of that. But you somehow make time for everything else.. why can't you just make some time for me?" You felt like you sounded selfish, almost faltering from revealing anymore but you felt so neglected it had to be said. 

"Wh-what about you? Oh my God, Jagiya.. you're such a high priority to me. Trust me, you really don’t know what I'd do for us and you should know I’d damn well do or sacrifice anything. It may seem like I'm not right now but I promise it's not like that. You'll always be important to me, how could you think otherwise?" Taehyung was perplexed by your sudden outburst, never having known of these feelings before. He reached his hands out to you but you abruptly denied him, snapping at the question.

“Then what’s it ‘like’, exactly? Because it seems very much to me like you want nothing to do with our relationship.” 

“No, that’s-that’s not it at all. Don’t worry about this, okay bubs? Overthinking this won’t do you any good, just trust me.” 

��Trust you? You're not even answering my damn question, Taehyung, what is it then? Why aren’t you telling me? Are you fucking hiding something?” You began speculating, his repeated vagueness irking you.

“Jagi, no, just listen to me. Know that I mean it when I say you’re important to me, you’re the love of my life and you'll always be a priority. Why are you thinking like this? Where is all this coming from?” Taehyung asked incredulously, getting on your very last nerve. 

"I don't fucking know, Taehyung, maybe because you ignore me for hours on end? Maybe because you leave me every morning without considering just waking up together? I know we can't make it obvious we live together, but we’ve always found a way before, what happened to that? Your texts and phone calls are so meaningless. You make time for your friends and other people but don't make any for me." Your eyes turned glassy, tears escaping as you recalled your terrible feelings over the last month. 

"Do you know why you find me sleeping on the couch every night no matter how fucking uncomfortable it is? Because our bed literally smells like you and it constantly reminds me of you but you’re not even there. Do you know how many times I've wanted to talk to you but you're too distracted and I know you'd just push me away? Or how scared I am of bothering you? How many times I've wanted you to come home? How utterly empty and lonely the apartment feels without you even though everything about you is riddled all over it? You don't get it, Taehyung. You just don't fucking get it." You found yourself crying and clutched your chest where it felt like your heart was on display for Taehyung, the reality of everything hitting you like a 16-wheeler. 

Taehyung did nothing but blink at you for several seconds, shocked at what he just heard. Were you seriously.. that upset? His absence was that prominent? It didn't even feel like a month to him, but it seems to you it felt like an eternity. 

Taehyung unfortunately only knew his packed schedule and making sure he didn’t fall asleep where he shouldn't. A multitude of things ran through his mind on a daily basis with his chaotic life; discussing outfits with his stylist, trying to purchase that new serum his makeup artist always reminds him of, meeting with a producer to review freshly composed songs for his mixtape or finally going out for that one drink he always promised a friend or two—and he suddenly hated it all. 

He especially began to loathe his demanding life when he saw the hurt on your face; the way your eyes glistened with pain, the loneliness in your voice, the way you tried physically holding yourself together. He couldn't fathom he was the cause of such pain, wincing at how utterly stupid he was for not noticing this earlier.

I really did do something to her.

He searched for anything to say, beginning to form words but quickly stopping himself from starting a sentence each time. He only examined your crumbling state and regretted not having talked to you sooner, but suddenly wishing you informed him about your feelings preemptively.

"I.. I thought you would've said something, Y/N, but you didn't. How am I supposed to know you feel this way if you don't tell me? You-you seemed okay to me." He inquired softly, tone riddled with guilt, but his words only made a disdainful scoff leave your lips. 

"Told you? Taehyung, you have always made it clear that you're a busy person and I've always respected that. You also made clear the importance of this comeback and that I just had to understand how limited our time together would be. Of course I had to act okay. How could you expect me to come and beg you for your attention after you tell me not to seek it?"

Taehyung was taken aback, falling silent. You watched him angrily, finding it unbelievable he really had nothing to say for such a crucial argument. 

"I was fucking embarrassed, Taehyung. I thought you'd get mad at me for hovering around you while you were busy and stressed. I didn't want to fucking suffocate you." 

"What? Jagi, no, this is important. I wouldn't have reacted like that at all. If you were hurting this much you could've told me and I would've done something. You can always talk to me, how could you not know that?" Taehyung inquired with a hint of accusation and it was like every cell in your body had set off.

"Oh fuck you, Kim Taehyung. Don't give me that bullshit! Of course I know, but I also know that you just get caught up in your own world and your extravagant idol life and I don't wanna fucking bother you when you’re living it without me!" 

"Y/N, don't. I'm not trying to pick a fight with you, can you watch your tone a little?" Taehyung asked with a frustrated timbre.

"You know what? I won't, Taehyung, let's fight. Only way to get your attention, isn't it?" Your feelings had reached its peak as you decided to egg him on.

"Don't do this, Y/N. I'm trying to have a civilized conversation." 

"And I don't want a civilized conversation, it's only making you ask me stupid questions." 

"They're not stupid questions. Can you not understand my side of this?" 

"Nope, I won't because I don't care about your side, actually." 

"The fuck? And you just expect me to understand your side when you won't even try to understand mine? I’m expected to know how you feel? Well news flash, Y/N, I can't exactly read minds.” He humorlessly tapped his head for effect, quipping at you harshly.

"I'm not asking you to read my mind, I'm just asking you to fucking pay attention for once in your goddamn life." You rolled your eyes dramatically, arms crossed tight as ever. 

Taehyung noticeably grew angry at the remark, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "Do not tell me of all people I don't pay attention. You know I've changed over the years but how attentive I am hasn't. Don't ever say that to me again." Taehyung's stern voice warned you of the line you were crossing.

You immediately softened and turned your attitude down a notch, only by a margin since you knew he would never grow angry enough to do anything to you.

"Fine, you pay attention, but clearly not enough." You acquiesced, looking away from him. 

Taehyung tried his best to reason now that he sensed you yielding. "Look, this is my first time hearing about this, okay? I had no clue, especially because you seemed and acted fine with me. Of course I'm going to tell you you should've just talked to me, I'm seriously not asking stupid questions." 

"Well, I didn't want to talk to you." 

"And how was that going to help you? It's only making us argue over something so easily fixable." He indirectly accused you and you returned your eyes to his, narrowing them at his audacity. 

"Wow, easily fixable, huh? Do you really think it takes that little to earn my forgiveness after neglecting me for an entire month? Am I that easy to you?" You smiled to yourself miserably, turning away as tears spilled from you. 

Your assumptions were correct, he really just thought of you as some easy pushover. Part of this was your fault, wasn't it? Being so quiet and passive about everything. You voluntarily let him get away with everything, let him slip away without a fight, and the frustration of that realization came washing down on you, hard. 

"No, wait. That's not what I meant. I just meant that if you'd let me known earlier, we wouldn't be fighting like this." Taehyung instantly softened at your tears with regret, internally facepalming himself.

"I didn't want to openly tell you, okay? It makes me seem...like an attention-seeker, and I was so afraid of bothering you." You wore your heart on your sleeve as your voice wavered, more tears escaping as you attempted to blink them away. 

Taehyung looked at you with overwhelming worry. His heart was beyond broken now, his desire to fix everything growing stronger with every tear that dared escape your eyes. 

He needed to make this right, fast.

"It doesn't make you a fucking attention-seeker, Y/N. Stop being so worried about how you appear to me, I'm with you for a reason. I accept you in any way, especially after how much we fought for this, for us. Your feelings too, they're all fucking valid to me. I really would've done something if you’d just told me how you felt." Taehyung practically pleaded, his pouty lips and devastated eyes making it clear he just wanted to reach some sort of consensus with you. 

"But that's the problem, Tae." You sniffled, wiping some tears. "You keep saying I should’ve told you, when you should've noticed on your own in the first place." 

Taehyung felt like someone had slapped him across the face, his lips parting as a deep look of realization dawned on his gorgeous face. "I…" He trailed, but couldn't let words out. He was realizing how stupid he was, how unobservant and ignorant. He hated it all, hated that he was so busy, hated that he didn't pay enough attention and hated that he hurt you. 

You gave up when his lack of words warranted a tense silence between you two, cut short when you hastily left the room. You walked in the direction of the parking lot angrily. You just needed some air, needed to go home and cleanse yourself of him for the time being. 

You thought you were being quick enough, until you heard laboured footsteps and Taehyung's low voice echoing in the hallway, tailing you. 

"Y/N! Wait, wait! Please, don’t walk away!" Taehyung practically begged as he rushed to your side.

"I'm not gonna wait for anything, I'm going home!" 

"Stop! My manager's gonna take us home tonight, okay? We're gonna talk about this." He stated with solidarity as he grabbed your arm, eager to patch things up.

"No we're not, and I have my own car, I'm getting myself home." You snatched your arm from him and marched on.

"You can leave it here for fuck's sake, and I said stop. We're going home together and sorting this out because I can't leave you like this, okay? We need to fix this."

"Awh, all I'm getting from that is you'll finally be home for once!" You chirped sarcastically, never looking at him as you practically stomped away. You saw him falter from your side, knowing he had to have paused at the heft of your comment. 

You both eventually made it through the building’s doors, you needing to be pretty much dragged into his manager’s car despite your vehement protest, stupidly shut into the back with him.

You were turned away putting on an Oscar’s worthy performance of pretending he wasn’t there, and Taehyung was left to canvas his numerous thoughts as the car drove. 

He realized he had said nothing to your comment earlier because.. you were right. 

When was the last time he sat in a car with you like this? The last time you were both home together? The last time you both lazily threw your things onto the floor once you arrived home and immediately smothered each other after holding back all day? The last time he held you in his arms while you two watched a trashy movie? 

Holy fuck, when was the last time we had sex? Made love? 

He could only think of memories from weeks ago in quarantine, nothing recent. His solemn gaze fell upon you as he thought. He could feel the prominent tension between you two, the gut-wrenching distance, leaving a black hole swallowing his heart. He felt no ease, no affection, no love. 

When did it fucking become like this? 

He was still struggling to stomach the fact that he hurt you. He watched you regretfully, tears pricking at his eyes as he saw you attempting to hold back your own. 

He then felt the sudden need to hold you, to comfort you. You had been pulling away from him for so long that he wanted nothing but to feel his large, warm hand cradle your smaller, colder one. Reassure you that while he's stupid, he's still here. 

Taehyung looked at you and leaned over, deciding to gently slide a reaffirming hand atop yours, gripping your fingers with all the love and warmth he could muster. 

He expected you to reject him, nearly giving up on a reaction until he felt your tentative hand just barely grab his back. Surprised, he took a relaxed breath. 

I'm going to fix this.

Taehyung shut the door as you two sauntered into your apartment and you disregarded your things, heading straight for your room. You thought it would make Taehyung leave you alone, but he caught your hand as you began stepping away. He didn’t yank you; simply held your wrist, still and remorseful with your back to him. 

A long pause passed as he stood in place, silence piercing the air until you spoke coldly, "What do you want?"

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could manage, his once powerful voice so incredibly small. 

You searched for a response, the air becoming somewhat suffocating as you sighed. “I know.” 

“No, you don’t. Jagiya, I mean it. I mean it with everything I have. I'm so sorry” Taehyung insisted with meaning, like he was seconds away from falling apart if you didn't believe him. 

You could hear the sincerity in his words and you could feel how heartbroken he was, but your exhaustion amassed with all the emotions that had been attacking you all week were discouraging you from participating in any conversation right now. 

“You may mean it, but that’s not fixing anything, Taehyung. You really don’t know how it felt to have you ignore me. To see you unaffected by our time apart. It felt like you were pushing me away, like I wasn’t worth your fucking time anymore.” 

“That’s wrong, Jagiya. You are always worth my time.” 

“Then maybe you’re just a contradictive jerk, Taehyung, I don’t know!” You threw your hands up as you broke his hold, turning around vexed. 

"Because one day you're telling me to basically fuck off because you're too busy but the next you're saying I'm worth all your time? Where the fuck was that the last month then? All you had to do was spare me a couple hours a week, just a couple. I wasn't even asking for much, you could've made the time!"

“I'm sorry, okay! I’m a jerk, I get it, but I had a reason! I have a fucking reason but right now I want to apologize and say I'm sorry. I’m sorry I made you feel like that, I’m sorry I neglected you and made you feel alone, I never intended that!” Taehyung sincerely implored, eyes worried and persistent as he reached for you. 

“Then what did you intend? Saying sorry after the fact does nothing. If you didn’t intend to hurt me then what did you intend to do?!”  You shouted, evading his touch again. 

“I was doing it for you! The reason was all for you, for us!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as anger seeped into your blood, unbelieving of whatever excuses you thought he was making up. 

“For me? Us? Really? Wow, did you suddenly quit your job as an idol to become comedian of the fucking year?” You quipped venomously. "How the fuck is you ignoring me for a month 'for our relationship'?" 

Taehyung was trying hard to calm himself down, thinking twice about how he was going to handle this. "Y/N, please, just try to trust me on this." 

You scoffed disbelievingly, shaking your head as you quickly made your way further into the apartment and over to your TV. Taehyung's eyebrows furrowed as he watched you reach towards the shelf underneath it. It was adorned with cherished photos of the people you both held most dear; family, friends, the boys. Most of them consisted of Taehyung entertaining his love for photography, having snapped stunning photos of scenery, people or a combination of both he adored enough to frame. 

But many were of you two, either in front of gorgeous landscapes or adorable candids. You picked up a photograph of you two in Daegu—Taehyung's big arms enveloping yours from behind as you hooked onto them, all smiles in front of his family's strawberry farm after his camera’s timer snapped the photo.

“See this? This is something you did for us, you told me you only take and frame photos of the most beautiful moments in your life, and you gave this to me telling me it was your favourite moment.” You placed the frame down, opting to grab the gray Sherpa blanket off the couch in front of you. 

“This? You got this for me after I was diagnosed with anemia during Christmas and had been shivering for months. You told me not to worry because you’d always keep me warm and whenever you weren’t there I could use this blanket instead, think of it as you. You did that for me.” You disregarded the blanket and held up your wrist. 

“This bracelet? You got it for our anniversary and made it our equivalent of promise rings because you know I hate rings. You even made sure your bracelet matched in a way that other people wouldn't notice and was only special to us." You watched as Taehyung slightly lifted his left hand to look at the mentioned bracelet. "You did that for me, for us.” Tears were brimming your eyes as you spoke, voice growing shaky.

“Taehyung, you did all those sweet and thoughtful things for us, for me. Those are the kinds of things you should be doing, not fucking hurting me by acting like I don't matter to you, making me question everything. What’s wrong with you? How could you scare me like that? Treat me like I’m nothing and say it’s for our relationship?”

“You're not, you're not nothing." Taehyung's voice caught in his throat, trying hard to dry his glassy eyes.

"I get it, Y/N. I fucking get it, what I’m doing right now may not seem as sweet as all those other things, but I promise it’s as thoughtful, it's still all for you. I’m serious when I say that, this is all because I love you. Why can’t you just believe me?” 

"And why can’t you just say what it is? Why won't you tell me? Are you hiding something? Taehyung, what you did felt like anything but love-" 

"That’s not true. The reason is insignificant right now because I didn't mean to hurt you, I’m so fucking sorry.” Taehyung's voice shook with genuity, trying once again to approach you, gingerly, affectionately. 

Your anger couldn’t subside with the way he kept side-tracking, however, your emotions growing erratic again. "Are you kidding me? Insignificant? The reason is the most important! Just tell me, why did you ignore me for an entire fucking month?!” 

"I said it's not fucking important right now. I want to apologize first, I didn’t mean to do it!" Taehyung was desperate to reason, eyes begging you to believe him. 

“It is important! Tell me what you’re hiding.”  

“It’s not important.”

“Yes it is!”

“No it isn’t!” 

“Yes it is!” 

“No it isn’t! I'm trying to earn your forgiveness firs-Y/N, what are you.." Taehyung’s eye widened in shock.  

He couldn't finish his sentence because he watched you grab a cushion from the couch and suddenly launch it in his direction.

"What the fuck? What are you doing?!” Taehyung exclaimed as he dodged, his large hands instinctively catching the object, looking at you like a confused puppy. “Did you just throw that at me?!” 

“I did! And I'll do it again until you tell me what you’re hiding!” You challenged him like a child and started reaching for throwable things. Pens, notepads, books, even a stray plastic water bottle all went hurtling towards Taehyung. 

You couldn’t stop throwing out of frustration, his unfair gift of ambidextrous hands and incredible catching skills making you even more frustrated. 

Did he really have to be made so fucking perfect? 

He continued defending himself from your attacks until he grew annoyed, “For the love of God, Y/N, stop throwing shit! Just put everything down and listen to me, you have to trust me before I can even explain myself!” Taehyung shouted more so with concern for you, dodging a bottle of vitamins. 

Now why the fuck was that just lying around? 

You snorted condescendingly, "Again with that, trust you?" You mocked as the TV remote came into your hand. 

"You know what, Taehyung? Let me explain for you, you’ve just found someone new who's not fucking staff, haven’t you? Our relationship got too difficult and you’ve finally had enough. You’re hiding shit to save my feelings, aren’t you?” You accused him much to your dismay, angry tears pooling in your eyes.

"What-no! Fuck no I would never do or think any of that!" Taehyung vehemently denied, finally having reached you and wrestled you for the remote. He eventually pried it out of your hands, throwing it away and holding your wrists as you resisted him.

 "It’s none of that, alright? I was just so damn stressed and I had way too much work. There’s so much going on, it fucks with me and I didn't want to make you my fucking mental care, unload my idol life crap onto you. You're working just as hard and I didn't want to burden you.”  Taehyung desperately revealed trying to reach you, upset that you could even think such ridiculous, lowly things of him. 

"Don't you dare use work as an excuse. I know you were busy and stressed, but you were making time for everyone else in your life except me. Just say it, Tae. I know you're tired of us!"

"Fucking-Y/N, it's literally not that at all. I was actually busy, okay? What I said is true!" Taehyung pleaded, he knew he was only telling part of the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie.

"It can't just be that, there's no way. What are you hiding from me? I'm serious, I'll leave this conversation if you don't, I'll leave this apartment if you don't-” 

"No! Just-alright! You really wanna know so badly?” Taehyung inquired rhetorically, his jaw locking. “Fine then. You fucking got found out.” 

You stopped fighting him and blinked, confusion riddling all your features. Taehyung sighed deeply and continued before you could say anything.  

“We got too comfortable, okay? I'm still an idol and our team heard a shit ton of rumours spreading outside the company about me dating someone. They controlled most and knew any remaining ones would just turn into baseless gossip since nobody knew your identity. I’d just get talked about which I didn't care about. But people somehow started finding your face, your name, and your information was spreading fast. Management was scared you'd be made public especially with reporters and cameras so up our asses these days and watching us. I was terrified when they told me. I couldn't let anyone know you, not when they’d do or say shit to you just because we're together… so I had to do something."

Now it was your turn to stand in shock for several seconds, utterly wide-eyed at the bullet you didn't even know Taehyung was keeping from you. 

“What-what the fuck? What do you mean? When did this happen?" 

"The same time I started 'ignoring' you. Nobody pressured me to break up with you, but I was warned to dissolve the rumours asap. I took matters into my own hands by acting the way I did to get people thinking we were either broken up or never dating in the first place. I hated doing it.. but it started working. I didn't want to tell you anything because I knew you'd just say we could solve everything together when we weren't in a position to do so." Taehyung wasn't hiding his clear anguish, upset having to recall his awful memories of the ordeal.

You were still shocked at how little you knew, finding yourself at least understanding of his actions and reasoning, but crossed your mind better ways to have dealt with this; especially ones that didn't entail hurting you.

"But Taehyung, you should've let me known. If you had just told me I wouldn't have gotten hurt like this. Why would you keep this from me?"

"I just.. I couldn't tell you. It felt like I was breaking up with you and I couldn't handle it. Even when I finally had the balls to do it I ended up prolonging because I just got so busy and pushed everything away to focus. I felt like I could deal with it on my own, fix it all by myself. I didn't want to drop this on you when you were busy too." 

You exhaled harshly, hating how unfair this entire situation was. "You could’ve told me with something like this, Taehyung. I can't just let you carry the burden all on your own, this entire problem had to do with me. We promised we wouldn’t keep shit from each other especially considering the circumstances of our relationship. Why would you break that promise?" Your eyes welled up again, inhaling painfully. 

Taehyung paused, scoffing humorlessly. "Yeah? I broke that promise? Jagi...you broke that promise too." 

You blinked again, his eyes piercing yours poignantly as you could only look back at him in defeat. 

He was right. 

He was entirely right, you hid your feelings from him and never told him anything, a clear violation of that promise on your end. But you couldn't let his wrongdoings go either, not on this; the hurt, the doubt, the thoughts he made you think. That pain was making you fall apart and the reality of it all came crashing down on you. "An apology still can’t fix this, Taehyung. I want to go to bed, we'll talk about this tomorrow.” 

You pulled away and moved towards your room until Taehyung rushed in front of you, grabbing onto your arms.

“Wait! This isn’t over, baby please, just listen to me.” 

“It is for today, Taehyung. I can't do this right now.” 

“No, I don’t want tomorrow. I want this now, I want to talk to you now.” Taehyung insisted with what seemed like his entire being. He didn't want to spend tonight like this; he didn't want you to sleep upset, and neither did he. 

“Taehyung, you’re making me repeat myself. Let me go, please. I’m exhausted.” You choked on your words, swiping your tears. 

“No, I told you I’m not fucking letting you go, especially not now.” He gripped you stubbornly, searching for your eyes.

“Taehyung, for the love of God just let me go-”

“I said no!” Taehyung's volume suddenly pierced the room, his intense aura stilling you. 

He didn't sound angry. rather in need, like he was calling out to you with his entire heart and the tight hold on your arms gave it all away. 

You finally decided to pay attention to him. His tone beyond serious, his eyes swimming with worry. His miserable face and refusal to let you go regrettably softened you. You understood him, saw the desperation and concern behind all his actions. 

But he chose to neglect you. He made you feel alone, made you overthink numerous possibilities about your relationship and even question his feelings for you.

"You.." You exhaled with agony, swallowing hard. 

None of this was easy, the nights you spent curled up on the couch overthinking, lying to everyone that you were okay, working in the studio alone to get him off your mind, blaming yourself. The accumulated pain of all those days now manifested in your chest all at once, making your heart ache. 

"You made me feel like I wasn't important to you, like I wasn't worth your time. I.. thought you found someone better, easier.. that I wasn't enough for you." Your voice crumbled by the second, your mind jumping to the one conclusion you tried to avoid the most but couldn't any longer. 

"I thought you weren't in love with me anymore." 

Taehyung's heart shattered into a million pieces, overwhelming hurt piercing his chest so violently that tears instantly betrayed his eyes. 

He couldn't bear any of this anymore, the tension, the distance, couldn't bear that you ever thought such an awful thing. Small tears escaped him as he gently placed his hands on your face, looking into your eyes with insurmountable pain before colliding his lips with yours. 

He kissed you tenderly, passionately, like his mouth was dying to express how much he'd missed you, and trying harder to prove how utterly wrong your last words were. Before you could even reject him, you found your own lips mirroring the same longing, the same need after a painful month apart.

Your eyes fluttered shut as tears stained your cheeks, the sheer love you could feel in his kiss suddenly brightening any parts inside you that had grown dark because of him. He began working against your mouth hungrily, trying to commit every inch of your lips to his memory. 

The kiss was fervent, utterly desperate, your harsh breaths mingling together as his hands on your cheeks wiped your tears away gingerly and yours clutched his hoodie tightly.

It's like he was consuming all of you, attempting to deepen the kiss with every second that passed by as he pulled you closer. And for once this past month, you didn't feel like questioning his feelings for you, because he was now serving them on a silver platter, making it blatantly obvious he had never once lost his love for you and will never do so. 

He kissed you like he wanted you and only you, he kissed you like you were fleeting and could disappear at any moment, he kissed you like you were his home, like you meant any and everything to him, like you were the only galaxy he believed in and it did nothing but set you both ablaze.

His tongue swiped your bottom lip impatiently, wanting to taste you after so long and you permitted absent-mindedly, damning every emotion except love and lust to hell, welcoming him. 

His tongue entangled with yours sloppily as you slid your hands up his sculpted neck, a soft groan escaping Taehyung's lips once you tugged his hair. 

It wasn't until Taehyung caught your bottom lip between his teeth that you felt something ignite inside you. You both panted as you disconnected, gazing at his dark eyes for a mere second before impatiently crashing your mouth onto his again. 

This time you caught him for a heated make out session, pulling his hair aimlessly as Taehyung pressed you against him with his arms snaking around your waist, both of you moving perfectly in sync with one other. The feeling of your bodies so close ignited your arousals, currents running through both your veins.

Taehyung pushed you back against the nearest wall, hard. You nearly yelped at the contact but Taehyung swallowed it with his eager kisses, getting rougher, sloppier, growing high off the feeling of you wanting more, him wanting so much more.

He brought his thigh in between you, pushing his hips against yours and you felt his hardness through his sweatpants. Your panties practically soaked at the contact, your moans devastatingly loud and hot and only making Taehyung harder. 

He brought his hands down to cup your ass momentarily as he kissed you, sliding them to the back of your thighs. You kicked yourself off the ground into his hold, legs grappling Taehyung's waist as he forced you back up against the wall. Your hands grabbed his jaw tightly, wanting all of him as your tongues moulded together. 

Taehyung felt his urges to touch you overwhelm him, utterly dying to hear you desperately say his name and moan breathlessly into his ear. He had gone too long, far too long without feeling you lose yourself to him that he needed you now. 

One of Taehyung's impatient hands moved up to fumble with the button of your jeans, disconneting to look into your eyes, his pink, swollen lips irresistible. 

"Have you been touching yourself?" He breathed hard and asked mere centimeters your mouth, forehead leaning on yours. 

"B-barely. I couldn't get myself off the same way." You exhaled harshly trying to calm down, mind woozy from the sheer adrenaline he was pumping through you. "You?" 

"Tried, but nothing felt like you." 

Taehyung returned his lips to yours breathlessly and unzipped roughly, sliding his hand inside and finding your already sopping wet heat. His fingers made contact through the soaked material and you let out a satisfied moan, throwing your head back against the wall. Taehyung chuckled proudly, pressing his lips to your exposed neck as he began lewdly rubbing your folds. 

Your walls clenched around nothing, begging for something to fill you up. You shamelessly rode against his fingers, desperate for more friction and Taehyung absolutely adored how needy you were. 

He smirked to himself as he pushed your underwear aside, his fingertips suddenly touching your bare pussy and you automatically felt sparks, gasping. 

Taehyung felt your delicious wetness and a satisfied groan left his lips. He couldn’t stop rubbing you, playing with your folds like it was a game he mastered ages ago. His digits spread you all over yourself, teasing you. He purposefully brushed over your clit multiple times and you felt nothing but fireworks, the heat between your legs growing so hot you clutched onto his shoulders to stay sane.

"Fuck.. Taehyung fuck! If you go inside.. I can't.. I'll fucking lose it." You stammered out, trying to relax but Taehyung eyed your panting figure with a smirk so evil you wished he'd just fuck you against this wall right now. 

Taehyung brought his lips to your ear and spoke lowly, the bass in his voice sending chills down your spine. 

"Then fucking lose it." 

Without warning, Taehyung shoved his two fingers inside you, a smug grin decorating his gorgeous face as he watched you nearly cry out, gripping harder into his hair and shoulder for dear life. His fingers began sliding in and out, your walls welcoming him greedily as he pumped you, milking out every beautiful sound you could make for him as he relished in them. 

Taehyung was already the hardest man on Earth, his cock painfully tucked away in his pants and aching to be inside you. You brought your forehead against his for support as he went harder, your breaths melding as you panted fucked out moans from the sheer bliss of his long fingers, just something of his dragging inside you. 

Your body moved up against the rougher thrusts of his fingers, practically fucking you open and the delectable sting certifying you’d lost it for Kim Taehyung. 

You suddenly felt your insides beginning to stir around him and you panicked, not wanting to let go just yet, just on his fingers. 

"T-Taehyung.. shit.. I can feel but- but not just on this." Your head was so gone a coherent sentence seemed impossible. Taehyung's fingers curled up inside you as he pumped a little harder, faster, making you whimper against his mouth and he used every ounce of strength he had not to swallow them with kisses, just so he could hear you. 

"Taehyung, please.." You moaned loudly and held onto him so desperately that Taehyung finally snapped, his dick throbbing to have you wrapped around him and hear his name just like that.

"Fuck this." Taehyung pulled his fingers out and carried you straight into your room.

He threw you down onto the bed hurriedly, his eyes blown out as he positioned himself above you. You breathed unevenly as you looked up at him, his body rising and falling quickly as he tried to control himself and his hungry look made you push your thighs together. 

The sight of your flushed cheeks and panting body underneath him made Taehyung's dominant side thrive. He drank you in greedily, registering this as the first time in a month he had you all to himself. 

"You don't fucking know, Y/N. All those times I had to hold back. When you walked around the studio looking sexy as hell, moving your body like pure sin, and I couldn't do a single thing to you." Taehyung's dark eyes indicated something had awakened inside him.

"What do you mean?" 

Taehyung scoffed, "You just don't get it." He mimicked you from earlier. “I was putting on a front and none of it was true. Every fucking time I saw you I wanted to lose it. Every time I saw you concentrating with that look, working, seeing your exposed skin, all the times I caught you practically eye-fucking me and I wanted to eye-fuck you back." Taehyung breathed out, voicing his pent up tension. 

"But you know what was worse? The times I saw you laughing with fucking Jungkook, screwing around with Jin-hyung, the guys acting so close with you. Watching back-up dancers eye-fuck you, hearing all their fucking comments about how hot you are, people asking if you’re single now, and I couldn't do shit because everyone was always around, watching." Taehyung breathed frustratedly, dangerous eyes locked on you.

"You know I don't get openly jealous, but my blood still boils under my skin when I see or hear those things, especially when I can’t do anything about it. I wanted you.. so badly, just wanted to take you right there in front of everyone if I could.." Taehyung nearly growled as his head hung low, entangling his hands with yours and squeezing them on the bed. 

"Then why didn't you?" 

Taehyung's eyes flashed up amusedly, "Why didn’t-you wanted me to do something in front of everyone?” His confusion softened into a little smirk. 

“You wanted to be watched, huh?" Taehyung lowered himself to your ear.  "Wanted everyone see the way I fuck you? See the way I make you mine? Fuck you open for me?” Taehyung was setting your core on fire and you had to bite your lip. 

He noticed and hated that his lips weren't on yours, quickly planting them for a kiss. 

The weight of Taehyung's leg pushing against your throbbing heat started compromising your sense of control, wanting to rile him up so bad he'll have no choice but to give you what you want. 

"Fuck, this is what I've been waiting for. Teasing you under me, cumming just from my fingers and tongue, fucking you senseless until you’re cumming again." Taehyung's words were filthy as ever and you loved every syllable. 

"Then do it." 

He smiled smugly as his mouth moved to the one spot on your neck he knew leaves you squirming. Curses left your mouth the second you felt his teeth, Taehyung adamant on leaving deep, purple marks. 

“I'm gonna show everyone you're mine, only mine.” Taehyung’s authoritative voice came out breathy as he kissed and bit in between, obsessed with seeing the art he was creating. 

"Shit… Taehyung yes, I missed you, I missed you so fucking much." You desperately stammered out.

"I fucking missed you too, baby." He smiled, his dark eyes glancing from your zip-up sweater and back to you. "But first, off."

Your hands moved for the zipper until Taehyung caught your wrists and forced them back against the bed, obsidian eyes scolding you. 

"That's my job." Taehyung spoke dominantly, hot as fuck as he stared at you while bringing his mouth down to your zipper.

His teeth caught it and slowly zipped down your body, pronouncedly breathing against your bare skin that made you hiss, arching up into him as he held your hands down. 

Taehyung was welcomed by your bra-cladded chest, basking in the glory of seeing your body after so long. He began laying kisses in between your breasts, his every contact electric. 

"Taehyung, please.. don't tease. It’s been so long." 

"We'll see about that."

He reached a hand underneath your back to unclip your bra, practically ripping the clothes off you and chucking them. 

Taehyung was heating up drinking you in, cursing at how even the sight of your naked top was making him somehow harder. 

"Shit, Jagi. You're so fucking gorgeous." Taehyung stated with haste as his large hands found your thighs that rested either side of his hips. He then slowly slid them up your abdomen, cupping your breasts and fingering your nipples. Your hands reached out to hold onto him as you exclaimed but he roughly pinned them above you, restricting you. 

He lowered himself to your chest for hickeys, kissing, licking, nibbling the flesh of your boobs. You arched and groaned as he held you down, sexually frustrated as he torturously teased you. 

"Taehyung, please… you know what I want." You breathed out, your hands resisting but he kept denying you. 

"You’re so fucking hot like this, so impatient and needy for me." Taehyung groaned, lapping his tongue over the flesh of your breasts until the tip of his tongue finally glided over your perched nipple.

You gasped at the contact, whimpering as your walls clenched around something non-existent and you bucked up into Taehyung. You could feel heat pooling at your core, begging to be battered as he sucked on your nipples, tongue doing wonders.  

Marks now embellished your chest as he kissed down to your stomach affectionately and neared your lower half, exciting your opening. 

Your eyes darted down and suddenly caught his length, poking out from his sweatpants and practically begging for attention. 

He instantly took notice. 

"No, princess. It’s about you tonight, not me, no touching." Taehyung ordered seriously, looking at you with a sense of dominance that only left you more aroused. 

You made a whiny noise, "Why not? I want to make you feel good." You retorted, wiggling your hand out to touch him until Taehyung locked you down harder. 

He clicked his tongue as he began pulling your pants and panties down your legs with one hand, his dark eyes chastising you, "We'll get to me another day." He disregarded them and let his hand feel up your thighs, bringing his face to your entrance.  

"But right now, having you like this, begging-” he nipped at your inner thigh, “making those sounds-” he licked the marks, “wet as hell for me-” he sucked your flesh, “that's all I need." His tone dropped an octave, letting your wrists go and nearing your cunt inch by inch. 

"Taehyung, fuck-don't do this. Please, it's been too long, don't tease.." You pleaded, hating the way he was shamelessly working you up.

"Do you need me, baby?" Taehyung watched your breath hitch as he kissed around your nether lips. "Need to feel me inside you? Stretch you out? Fuck the shit out of you?" His low, dark tone made butterflies fill your abdomen and all you could manage was a light nod.

"Tell me, Jagiya. Tell me what you want from me, where you want me.." Taehyung breathed against your soaked pussy and you shivered, beyond impatient. 

"Y-your tongue, your cock, Taehyung, you. Please..I can’t do this.. just fuck me, make me come all over you.." You rambled and looked at Taehyung through hooded eyes. You grabbed one of his hands and brought him directly to your dripping heat, rubbing him against your slit unforgivingly.

Taehyung groaned proudly, "Good girl. I'll fuck you so good you’ll feel me for hours, so hard I’ll have to carry you to rehearsals myself." Taehyung's filthy words rang in your ears. 

A loud moan escaped you once Taehyung's pillowy lips and tongue pressed onto your pussy, your breath hitching as his muscle began licking into your folds. Taehyung hooked onto your thighs from underneath, parting your legs wider for him. Your hands found his broad shoulders for support and you tugged at his hoodie frantically, whining. 

"Taehyung, off.." 

Taehyung drew away from you to slide his top off. He threw the sweater mindlessly as he returned, deciding to sink two fingers inside you as his tongue began licking. His newly exposed skin made you feel more aroused, tugging his soft curls to manage the bliss he was supplying you. 

His tongue licked you like he was starving, sucking and flicking your clit occasionally as his fingers curled up inside your velvety walls. You felt like crying, after such a long time the pleasure was already building up inside you and so intense you needed to let go. 

"Taehyung-Tae.. I feel it. Don't stop..." You moaned weakly, your orgasm dawning on you as Taehyung quickened his pace. His dark eyes watched you through his fluffy fringe and it was intoxicating, had you throwing your head back against the pillow just to contain yourself. 

"Come for me baby, come all over my tongue and fingers. I wanna hear you.” Taehyung cooed at you as he pumped and the tip of his tongue played with your clit faster, soothing your thigh and adoring the wet mess in between you. Your loud moans and groans sent shivers down Taehyung's spine and blood straight to his cock. 

The familiar sensation of something coiling came to you, gripping Taehyung's hair until you saw stars and felt a fierce snap, the unholiest of noises leaving you as your back arched. You panted hard, bringing an arm up to shield your eyes, the pleasure of your high dizzying as Taehyung watched you, tasting and fingering out your orgasm. 

He kissed your entrance multiple times before he decided he was done. He straightened himself up and wiped your juices off his chin, licking your essence off him. Feeling you come undone on his mouth made him go feral, needing to feel your walls hug his cock just the same.

He positioned himself above you, gently moving your arm from your face. 

"Don't hide from me." he spoke softly, intertwining his hands with yours against the pillow to adore your fucked out expression. 

You admired him innocently in the moment, his honey-coloured skin kissed by the moonlight radiating through the windows. The expanse of his broad chest and shoulders looking more bulky now that he was working out, his thick neck, the beautifully visible veins in his arms that all created the art that was Kim Taehyung. 

Your eyes scanned over him greedily until you landed on his lower half, the tent in his pants looking so painful you again ached to relieve it.

Taehyung eyed you as you licked your lips, boldly reaching out for his dick. You touched sparingly, Taehyung instantly letting out a pleasurable groan until he caught your hand.

"What did I say? You never fucking listen, do you?" Taehyung brat-handled you, his alpha male on full display. 

“What if I don’t want to listen?” You disobeyed and reached out again, gaining full contact until he grabbed and forced your hand against the sheets. 

“I’ll make you regret that." 

Taehyung quickly shuffled his pants and boxers down and past his hips, disregarding them and leaving him bare before you. 

Your eyes began ogling the angry, red tipped cock that had sprung out, looking painfully uncomfortable and leaving you wishing Taehyung had just fucked your mouth just watch him suffer. He was already leaking precum, making you whimper at the thought of him coming inside you. 

Taehyung positioned himself in between your legs, bringing his dick to your entrance. He tried to bite away a mischievous grin before sliding his cock against your folds to mix your wetness with his.

"Shit, Jagi, you're so fucking wet." Taehyung moaned with you at the pleasurable feeling. 

"Fuck, Taehyung…I can’t, I need.. inside." Your sentence was mangled, his hot flesh against you heavenly. 

"Shit, saying my name like that..I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll feel me in your throat." Taehyung growled, gripping the base of his cock and aligning himself with your entrance. You readied yourself until Taehyung stopped, a thought suddenly popping into his head. 

"Wait, you got your shot this month, right? You're okay with raw?" He asked with no particular haste, concern glossing over his eyes. 

Taehyung's chest suddenly tightened realizing he didn't even know something as simple as you getting your shot, important to him since your phobia of needles was so bad you usually needed to hold his hand or talk to him on the phone. 

But he was so busy this month he couldn't do either.  

"Of course, Taehyung, of course I did." You breathed out erratically, trying to calm down after his tormenting cock sliding. You gave his hand that held yours against the bed a squeeze, wishing he would begin battering your insides already. 

"Fuck, I know how much you're afraid of needles.. I should've been there." Taehyung became disappointed in himself, eyes faltering from yours. 

You immediately grew soft, "Taehyung.. it's okay, if it's for you then I'm not so scared. Don't worry, bubs." You said as you let go of his hands to cup his cheeks, searching for his eyes. 

"But you get them just for me..even though you're so scared. I love you for that." Taehyung doted on you as he tucked your hair behind your ear, completely contrasting his cock about to abuse you. 

"Taehyung, baby it’s okay, I'm okay. I'm with you right now. I want everything you thought of, everything you want with me… I want you." You looked into his doe eyes tinted with guilt, offering him a smile. 

Taehyung returned a light smile of his own, pressing a feathery kiss to your lips before he grabbed the base of his cock again. He gripped your hand hard as his dick compromised your opening. 

He hissed once he sank in, the feeling of your pussy opening up for him eliciting a drawn out 'fuck' to leave his mouth. 

Taehyung could feel how tight you were after a month without him; you weren't as stretched out and he felt drunk. The way your walls hugged his rock hard dick so snug, so intoxicating he wanted to completely lose control but refrained with you in mind. 

You thought you were used to the pleasurable burn of Taehyung's gifted size, already aware of how well-endowed he is but you suddenly felt a harsh sting and forced your hands against his chest, exasperating. Taehyung immediately stopped, widening his eyes in concern. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Just-just give me a second." He nodded, feeling your breaths calm down as he soothed over your arm, your walls relaxing

"Y-you can move." You voiced weakly. 

Taehyung complied and moved in considerately, failing to suppress the low groans that left him. He finally bottomed out and hit your cervix, both of you letting out satisfied grunts at the feeling of him buried so deep. He could feel the way your walls pulsed around him to adjust, adding to his lists of reasons he was insane for you. 

Taehyung kissed you as he began fucking gently, slowly, wanting to feel the way you wrapped around him, craving for you to feel every inch, groove and vein of his cock. 

The feeling of him slowly and languidly thrusting inside you felt otherworldly, the longing, the care, the love in his movements so apparent you grappled the back of his neck to hug him closer. Taehyung rocked himself against you, laying deep kisses to your mouth.

"Fuck, baby.. you're so tight." Taehyung breathed out, unable to hold back his sense of control, gradually fastening his pace to fuck you better, feel more. 

"How does it feel, princess, tell me." Taehyung cooed into your ear, now kissing underneath your jaw. Your lewd noises grew louder as he began pumping faster and Taehyung looked at you. 

"Shit, Taehyung. I-I feel so fucking good. You fill me up so good… want more.” You practically whined, head spinning at his intoxicating pace, wrapping your legs around Taehyung's torso to feel him deeper. 

Taehyung weakened at the feeling, kissing your lips with fervor and now thrusting faster as his need to come undone racked his balls, but aching to treat you first. His skin was imprinted with your scratches, him only fucking you faster in response. 

"Harder, Taehyung, fuck me harder..!" Your voice trailed with a mewl, kissing him sloppily as your desire for more of him grew unbearable. 

Taehyung smirked against your lips, "You want it harder, huh? You like that? Want me to fuck up your insides? Batter this pussy up?" 

"Y-yes, Taehyung, please." 

Taehyung already felt fucked out, wrestling with your tongue as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pressed you flush against him. You both groaned louder as his pace turned unforgiving, 99% sure your neighbours could hear every lewd sound. 

"Taehyung.. fuck. I missed you. I missed you so much!” You spoke without a thought, light-headed but hyper aware of just how much you wanted him, needed him, not only with his cock buried inside you but just him, so close to you. 

"Shit, baby.. I missed you more. So much. So fucking much, you don’t even know." Taehyung growled desperately as he fucked deeper, kissed harder, his tone coated with sincerity. 

Both your confessions made for rougher fucking, nasty tongue kissing, tighter grasps on each other. You rutted against one another shamelessly, movements faltering in precision and more so in desperation as Taehyung shoved himself inside you. 

And he watched as he did, seeing the way he disappeared into you between your bodies and enjoying the way you bounced in response. 

"Taehyung, fuck, Taehyung.." You moaned out his name breathlessly as you gripped his shoulders, feeling your abdomen flood with heat as his cock kissed your cervix. 

"Jagiya, fucking-watch it, say my name like that again and I'll fuck the living shit out of you." Taehyung warned with a growl as he rammed into you. 

"T-Taehyung.."

“Such a bad fucking girl." 

His arms suddenly locked you down in place, holding you tight as he began the roughest, hardest thrusts you've felt all night. Taehyung deliberately pulled all the way out only to smash back in as he felt your body jerk up in response, swallowing your whimpers.

Your moans were loud, ringing in your own ears as you felt yourself losing your sanity. He snapped into your gut, filled you up so good all you could feel was him. Your orgasm was bubbling in your stomach, begging for release now. 

"Taehyung, I'm gonna- fuck, I'm gonna come!”  You warned him with a pitchy yelp, the tingling feeling unbearable as his body rubbed against your clit. 

"Come for me, baby, all over my fucking cock, Let me feel you." Taehyung encouraged as he desperately tried to hold his own load, wanting nothing but to witness the way you came underneath him.

And out of nowhere your second orgasm washed over you, barely noticing the snap as you ached from oversensitivity and protested him to a halt. Taehyung controlled himself as your walls continuously clamped down on him, watching you pant from fatigue. 

But he decided on your punishment and suddenly flipped you onto your stomach, instinctively settling on all fours as you felt him prod your entrance. He pushed you to arch your back and pulled your ass up, giving a nice smack before kissing up your back like the demon he is. He sank in with no warning and began drilling into you again, setting a merciless pace and angling himself to fuck you completely open. 

“T-Taehyung, what are you doing!”

“You’re coming for me again.”  

“I can’t- Taehyung I can’t!” Your hand quickly came down to entangle with his on your hip, his deft fingers boring into your skin as he mercilessly buried every inch of his cock into you.

“You can do it! Just one more time for me princess, let go for me.” He coaxed you as he felt your walls pulsating around him again, his arms hugging your body to his and mouth breathing unevenly near your ear. 

"Taehyung, Ah- fuck! C-come inside me, please!”

"Shit, I’ll stuff you with my cum, fucking give you my kids!”  Taehyung grunted as he continued bartering your pussy, reaching down to roughly rub your clit. You cried out, half from sensitivity but half from pure pleasure, gripping his hand hard. 

You felt the coil coming back for a third time and Taehyung’s encourgements were doing absolute wonders. "Taehyung-shit I’m gonna..fuck!”

Once he delivered a particularly hard, deep thrust with his hand on your clit, you gasped out his name as another orgasm released through your body, temporarily blinding you with bliss. Your legs grew weak as you buried your face into the pillow, trying to catch your breath. 

“Just like that, baby, just like that.” Taehyung spoke supportively as he thrusted one last time before finally coming inside you, helping you ride out your climax. He groaned into your ear as he spurted hot stripes of cum inside you. You squeezed his hand on your stomach that still held you up, feeling him milk himself of every drop he had racked up just for you. 

Once Taehyung felt completely vacant of his seed, relief washed over him as he kissed your upper back, both of your bodies lax and panting for air. 

"You're amazing." Taehyung tried steadying his breathing, beaming as he hugged you from behind, cock still throbbing inside you. "I fucking… I held that back for so long."  

"You didn’t have to… I would've thrown myself at you if you just came home." You breathed shallowly.  "Could've done whatever you wanted.. I planned...on treating you cause you were so stressed." 

Taehyung rolled his eyes at himself, "Ugh-don’t remind me. I already feel dumb as fuck." 

You turned your head back and scolded jokingly, "Don't call yourself dumb, only I get to say that." A soft giggle escaped him as he let you go. Taehyung slowly pulled out and watched as he did so, viewing the mess in between your legs with admiration. 

Taehyung swiped the cum dripping down your thighs back into your core, completely stuffing you with him until he brought his fingers to your lips. He watched you lick provocatively, his breath hitching at the sight until needing to pull his fingers out. 

He then quickly made off the bed and ambled over to the bathroom, retrieving a damp towel and cleaning you up gingerly. He plopped down next to you after discarding it and threw an arm over his eyes. 

You turned to look at him, feeling the butterflies of him next to you flood your chest. You wiggled closer and propped yourself on an elbow to gaze at him, your other arm laying on his chest. 

Taehyung felt your eyes on him and spoke without looking. "Hi."

"Hi," you moved his arm from his face, echoing him. "Don’t hide from me."

Taehyung grinned at you, lifting his arm. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" 

"Like you're madly in love with me. Don’t do that, I don't really deserve it." He stated dejectedly, evading your eyes to rather view the night sky. 

"Kim Taehyung, what did you just say to me?" 

No response. 

You sighed, "Bubs, look at me." requesting with a softer tone and he returned his eyes to you hesitantly. You wagged your finger at him.

"Don't say that, okay? Maybe you should’ve told me, maybe I should’ve been more vocal about my feelings, maybe we both should’ve just communicated. It's not only your fault, it's mine too so please don't say that." Your bottom lip jutted out and your eyes implored him, upset that he was insulting himself. 

He deserved every ounce of love in this world. 

"Maybe.. I just..Fuck, you need to know I hated doing it, okay? Every time I saw you in that building I was dying to be with you, but I had to hold back to protect you. I couldn’t bear something happening to you, and please, please don’t think I don’t love you anymore. I do, I love you more than you’ll ever know. If I could throw all of this away for you I would." Taehyung spoke sincerely, remembering the way he saw you admit such an awful thought and he hated that he was the cause of it.

"You really don’t know how hard it was. I’m writing lyrics for my mixtape and they all end up about you. We're out at a photoshoot and I always wanted to send you pictures. I didn’t use SNS, call or text you because I knew it’d just be harder for me to create that stupid ass distance.” Taehyung ran a hand through his hair as he sighed, frustrated about it. 

“Even when I was shooting commercials I thought about your reactions if you saw them. I missed you the whole time, more than you know. I just couldn’t risk anything, there was so much on the line with you and I wasn’t going to give you up. Work got in the way and there was so much happening and I just-" 

“Shh shhh.” You calmed him down reaching for his cheek. “Thank you for that. I'm sorry you had to do everything by yourself, had to carry all that responsibility alone." Your lips quivered, catching Taehyung's attention. 

"No, it's okay. I'm the one who made you think all those shitty things. I do find you annoying, but I could never find you that annoying." Taehyung quipped to lighten the mood and you smacked his chest. 

"Hey!" 

"I'm kidding, Jagi." Taehyung chuckled before letting out a long, hard sigh. "I was just so swamped with this comeback, I’m working really hard for it and got too focused." He explained regretfully, tucking his hands underneath his head. 

"So you just thought fuck me for a little while, right?"

"Wha-no I didn't, I mean.. I did just fuck you but-not like that…shit, just come here!” Taehyung suddenly turned onto his side and threw his arms out, you scooted over to him instantly, giggling. He tightly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you close, pressing his lips to your hair and you kissed his shoulder.

Your hand absentmindedly found his and you intertwined them, causing a warm and comforting feeling to spread across your chest. 

You found yourself becoming smaller in his hold, clutching his hand to compose yourself because you didn't feel like ruining a passionate night with tears. 

Nonetheless, Taehyung sensed you growing vulnerable and pulled you on top of him, your naked bodies flush against one another. Taehyung immediately showered you with comfort, clutching you close to him.

"I’m not going anywhere, you’re with me for a lifetime, Jagiya." The smooth bass of Taehyung's voice eased you, reverberating from his chest as he senselessly soothed your back.

"Please, don't do that again. Please just tell me next time when there's a problem, I'll tell you too and we can work it out together." A hint of desperation tinted your tone, shutting your lips together to prevent yourself from crying.

"I won't, baby, I promise." Taehyung hugged you a little tighter, running a hand through your hair. 

"I love you, Taehyung." 

"I love you, Y/N." 

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[deltas-writing-corner]

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Warnings: Implications of noncon | abusive behavior | unhealthy obsession | death | slight gore | Please ask to tag additional content warnings that I have failed to disclose

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand. 

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are. 

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day. 

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation. 

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human. 

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation. 

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable. 

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?” 

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place… 

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night. 

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness- 

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then. 

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet. 

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely. 

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts. 

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down. 

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated. 

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior. 

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated. 

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

[sugar-petals]

:: random things about boyfriend yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE I saw this format floating around the fandom and thought it was cool and sweet (just like our honey boy so here it goes) 😊  includes an sfw and nsfw bit, both can be read independently.

words. 3k

SFW

First off, Yoongi is laid-back and casually sexy the way we know him. But he also has spikes of energy where he actually gets a little clingy. Any opportunity he will use to hold hands or jump around like a madman with his gummy smile because he got excited about something that you never could predict would make him so happy. He truly is an epiphany.

He’s your most eager personal chef but funnily enough a little unsettled by onions so you end up helping him. Yoongi hates to be crying in the kitchen because of some evil little vegetable but hey, perfect time and place to spend half an hour huddled together cooking or baking. And Yoongi is secretly longing for a cheesy scene, he finds it romantic when you wipe the tears from his face.

His way of speaking to you is a mix of mumbly Korean, high-pitched pouty cat speak, and old-school English slang phrases that he learned somewhere on social media or award shows back in 2018. Most of the time he takes things seriously but is up for some joking anyway. He is sure to giggle every now and then which is really adorable of him. Yoongi is also the person who gets every nuance of your humor and reacts to it.

After being single, you really have to get used to someone waddling around the house. Like— oh, he’s there! And it’s none other than him! Since Yoongi isn’t noisy when he concentrates on his laptop, it really stands out when he morphs from his unmovable rock-like being to a slow rolling stone headed towards the kitchen from time to time. You have to blink every time. And how could you not look up, he’s walking by with his cutest oversized sweaters and striped fluffy socks.

He cannot hide things that normal people would try to keep secret — because of their own discomfort, but he is good at blocking out things that serve your comfort. I’ll explain what I mean. If you have been keeping up with Yoongi postponing the reveal of his surgery until it was successful, you know what I mean. In short, Yoongi is pretty much an automatic filter for things that disturb you. Knowing the right time and place to inform you is the key. As is disregarding things that don’t concern you as a couple, unnecessary drama and opinions. He’s really good at that without ever trying to sugar-coat the important things because he remains a frank and honest soul.

Yoongi has an easier time giving random presents for simple occasions rather than making a big deal out of traditional festivities. So, big celebrations are often kept simple — unless the rest of BTS is there advocating their ‘a little party never killed nobody’ motto — while Yoongi focuses on getting you something attentive or useful every other day pretty much. He’s still a frugal type, you know him. It’s more about inexpensive things that catch his eye because he heard you likes this or that type of snack or want this or that sofa cushion. 

There’s always something new and surprising in the fridge and it’s hardly ever empty because Yoongs takes care of the groceries, really thinking it through. Just personal chef things. Being Yoongi’s partner must be the most destressing thing. He takes responsibility for the worldly things, the ironing clothes and the trash cans. He himself thinks that’s the easiest shit ever and is ready to put time into it (he sees the merit, it drives him) while thinking your side — the sheer act of being in love with him, being there for him — must be hard. Which it isn’t. 

Yoongi thinks emotions and relationships are tough and complicated while daily life runs smoothly at the snap of a finger. You think maintenance is a drudgery while love is not the maze your boyfriend assumes it is. Deep down Yoongi thinks he’s unlovable and a bad person, that’s why he believes he doesn’t have the burden but you have. That your affection then blazes past the barriers in Yoongi’s esteem is something that he finds incredible. It catches him off guard there, you burst the bubbles of the flaws he falsely imagines he has.

You bet your ARMY bomb you’re watching cat videos together.

Guess who’s the first person to hear all of Yoongi’s upcoming hit tracks? Even Namjoon gets the first sample ten minutes later. You gotta be really advanced at keeping secrets and avoiding accidental leaks with your phone or something.

Yoongi hesitates with the analogy because it’s a little funny and you’re evidently not a steaming liquid made of beans, but he claims you really are like his daily americano. Makes his every morning better. 

Now, in all seriousness. What means the most to him is that you take him how he is and are stable company. Yoongi is afraid of betrayal and stupid games so he has to be sure to have a safe bet going. I think that’s why he fancies marriage, it’s a sign of commitment and some degree of permanence to him. And yes, he is a bit jealous in nature since he’s easily invested in someone with a purity of feeling, almost in a naive way. Yoongi easily idolizes his partner and puts a lot of energy into a bond. He wants to protect that, take the risk, and he has watched for someone who radiates genuine trust and faith. He is sure to have found it in you without any illusions and he is right. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.

Playing the piano for dinner or date night is a must, he practices constantly to advance to a great standard. He secretly finds a lot of satisfaction in you cooing at his skills and melodies. Those ten bony fingers gliding over the keys with such a technicality and focus, and a passion that makes you hold your breath, it’s great to watch.

Did you see that one coming? He will compose and produce a designated mixtape only for you personally. Yes, with a little self-filmed, self-cut music video for the title track. 

Now those things never see the light of day, they’re all for you. But what about your couple life once it touches the social realm? As one might expect, Yoongi is very ‘eyes turn narrow’ with people who bring disharmony to your dynamic and the relationship in general. In fact, he is grumpy and disappointed, and should someone give him a reason, distinctly brutal. If someone even attempts to test you or plays manipulative games, Yoongi is relentlessly turning them from the inside out with his words that never miss the mark. They’re efficient. As I said, he hates playing annoying games, he’ll do any shortcut and be Yoongi.

I guarantee you can lean back and will never the fazed by stupid people and time wasters again. No need to lose face. Yoongi does the dirty work and is the best possible defender to have on your side. He handles that. Invasive opinions and useless phrases he will shove right up some trashtalker’s ass and leave. Let’s squarely say he is unafraid to be a armchair critic of your and his haters and doesn’t want any of that nuisance to disturb what you have together. He cuts very quick and makes sure not to get tangled up in trouble.

Yoongi will also debunk a whole bunch of weirdos on weverse asking about your private love while he’s at it. Prepare for some very entertaining snide remarks. Oh my god, so many entitled people will be pissed off. Many will also celebrate him for stepping up. What’s actually important to Yoongi is that nobody taints what is like a treasure to him.

It won’t be hard to overlook that Yoongi is very proud of you as well. He looks confident and revering when he hangs out with the group and you’re somewhere close by, even just doing something trivial.

He’s also pretty touchy, sometimes publically to demonstrate something, but mostly in the relative calm and safety of a hotel room. When the lights are out, all barriers crash, the utter romantic takes over. His favorite types of kisses besides those onto his hands are when you kiss his lashes. And yep. Yoongs is such a cozy little spoon. A very curled up one with cute shooky pajamas on most likely.

Talk about clothes. Believe it or not, Yoongi’s fashion goes through a significant change due to the relationship. He knows that you are touchy and thinks about what kinds of flannels are the biggest cuddle magnet, after all. And oh wonder, he will also show some level of skin when he accidentally hears your praises for his arms and legs and collar bones and glowy skin while talking to a close friend of yours. So, look forward to that in summer (he still dislikes the winter cold and wraps himself into scarves twice his size, mind you) though it’s still for your eyes only, he covers up when going out. Truth be told, he enjoys when you casually touch his skin. Especially the arms. Which hold up the firmament to you, and your world, too, and guard it.

BTS will know about how excited he is about you because he often boasts about for how long you’ve been living together by now. We all know this is Yoongi’s favorite way of bragging and it further shows that loyalty, dedication and longevity is the spice to his every meal.

Yoongi is probably going to quit the bottle because you naturally make him feel at ease and upbeat. In fact, he simply forgets about his wine. I don’t have to convince you that Yoongi will be very immersed in any interaction with you whether that be watching movies or discussing his latest tracks. 

Those discussions come with extra back massages for him because he spends a lot of hours in his chair. Especially around the neck, it’s no secret that this is in every cat’s top 3 favorite massaging areas. Yoongi is gonna make some really raspy, sleepy sounds and just melt in your hands. He’s gonna sleep like a baby afterwards every time. Sometimes, he says funny and cute things while he dozes. He looks very content.

Say goodbye to the 21st century adulting annoyances in your life because Yoongi has a grip on those without a word. Those six specific chores that always plague you take him only a dozen minutes and he is eager, the forms to fill out are already sent off, the list of people to e-mail is weeded through. The taxes are paid, the bank account is full, the meals are on the table, garnished to perfection. Roof over the head, and it’s a sturdy one, Yoongi bought a sound haven house to inhabit a lot of happiness for two. 

He’s probably the only person who doesn’t see it as a loss of dignity if you want to hold on tight to him during a dentist visit as a grown ass mf. Why all of this? Yoongi cannot not strive to feel needed in his actions. He wouldn’t like himself if he couldn’t contribute something reliable and useful. That you find things worthy of your time is priority. You complement each other, what you think is a waste of energy makes him work and strive and vice versa. That way, in the end all things are taken care of.

Giving is more important than taking in Yoongi’s world. He thinks of everything because he considers it an offense to have you in a pile of duties, that is, if you don’t like ‘em. It’s his form of dedicating his efforts and showing respect. He doesn’t need much in return. The things he expects if at all don’t feel like a duty: Much like he doesn’t consider doing those acts of services for you likewise.

Work horse he is, he needs something on his daily to-do plan. Which includes making you feel unbothered by the occasions of an incoming strict world when it’s getting to you. You’re supposed to do what you feel like doing just like him and not slave away at fifty deeds. That you torture yourself with daily life hassle is the thing he dislikes seeing the most. He enjoys doing these things so he’s happy to get going.

What’s not a daily life hassle: Holly is a big fan of yours. Instant friendship. Just wanted you to know.

He always knows how to preoccupy himself and finds something to improve. Getting on your nerves, and that’s no surprise, is the last thing Yoongi will ever do. In fact, you sometimes have to search for his napping spot because he got lost somewhere in the house. 

He either sleeps or works, his philosophy is simple. If you need him, he does appear seemingly out of nowhere. And, he spends as much time with you as you enjoy, not always prioritizing his producing unless it’s urgent or he’s on an inspiration streak. Which is great anyway, you can sit next to him listening. It’s the right balance of work and play.

Yoongi is not above blatantly showing off. Actually, he goes for an act of stunning pretty often. You know how cats parade around whatever they just caught. He wants to impress you with assets and accolades and appraisals, the boy can’t help it. That you only lightly nod at most of it with a little smile will confuse him but he will get the point later on. You wanna signal Yoongi that you anchor your love for him not in shifting numbers and chunky metal pieces. 

That you don’t confuse his signs of outward worth and fame with the core of the guy you find the sweetest in the world is very important to him. He will take some time to see through that because he’s used to being loved through status and its symbols by people close and afar. 

The way you throw yourself at him to give a big smooch in random situations — especially when he doesn’t feel great about himself— rather than only when he say gets a new car is sending him a message. Again, he has to grow into that. He will retreat at the beginning because he feels worthless of your affection on days where he doesn’t feel big and bold and successful. But since he sees you jumping on him because you need only his kind and squishy presence and see him as no different than usual because he’s always Yoongi underneath, your boyfriend will change his mind about it sooner or later. He learns that your presence makes him feel like a billion dollars yourself.

You don’t wallow in the regrets of other people missing the point of Yoongi and instead focus on always understanding him rather than enabling Yoongi into wrong directions. And there are many of those, his mental health can tell you a thing or two about it. He begins to get that you really know what you’re doing and are in it for the real him which makes him feel really loved far underneath all surfaces and images. You accept his fame and admire his work with music which is what he’s truly doing it for but also don’t forget that the most vulnerable Yoongi is the one that you’re there for and not a facade.

NSFW

I know you’re curious. That Yoongi’s sexual style is more than just interesting goes without saying. To give you an idea. Anything steamy with Yoongi means him taking his time. You know, for making it quality. Yoongi wants to grow into the right balance of activity and staying relaxed. He is good at keeping cool and bringing some focus to the madness. He wants to figure out how to be more casual instead of tense and overly preoccupied which he’ll be at the start of the relationship. But the fast learner he is, his nervousness fades way faster than you think. 

Yoongi is extremely afraid that he can’t please you or starts to become awkward slash clueless so he darts to the opposite of the spectrum and overperforms, even plays a character. You have enough cool yourself to tell him what to do in the pace that works best. That he stays centered in his body is important for you to teach him. When he gets grounded and juggling his confidence is out of the equation, he fucks the best.

His favorite position besides giving oral — with you on your back — will be doggy style. Man, we gotta talk about that. Slow to upper moderate pace, nothing too all over the place. Yoongi moans very slowly, too, all drawn out. Get ready for a frequent session of some anal to unwind. You heard that right. First, Yoongi will get the two of you into the right rhythm with his hands at the sides of your waist, then, ride it out in slow mo with his right hand properly stimulating you from the front. 

By habit, he will add some lube here and there but not use insanely dripping amounts so everything gets messy or he can’t touch you without sliding off anymore. Just enough to slide well. Yoongi is so good at this I swear, it’ll be your favorite thing to relax. He has the restraint and technique to pull it off rather than pulling out, huh. Yoongi is gonna stay inside you for ages. It feels like he’s massaging every spot for some extra time. It’s amazing to slack off your muscles, cool off, and get many a gentle but fulfilling orgasm. 

He’s not gonna put you through the hassle of dealing with an anal creampie cleanup so he keeps it wrapped, and mostly focuses on your movements altogether while keeping his own climax smooth and more relieving rather than something that relentlessly knocks him out in one go. Yoongi is good at observing and doesn’t feel the need to chase a violent high which is why he is so great at sex. Fucking with Yoongi leaves a wholesome feeling and you never feel ashamed or guilty, or a sense of being dirty and ruined. 

He enjoys having sex to make you feel really good and works his hands on you very respectfully. His goal is to have you wet and pulsing after a long while of getting you there, and putting you to a good night’s sleep. He’d feel terrible if he left you sore or disturbed. He is really passionate, especially with his kisses or when you ask him to slide into very deeply, but Yoongi being brash and controlling is an image out of sight.

Besides giving you the number one heavenly assfucks, Yoongi also likes to work his tongue as we know, and he’ll work it all over. Few body parts of yours have not made contact with that glorious mouth and I say that in the best of ways. You can instruct him to do whatever, Yoongi obliges with radiant joy. And here again, he takes minutes upon minutes. Kissing and kissing and licking and maybe even teasing once or twice to make you smile. You know, a little signature wink. Honoring your skin and every shape is not something that Yoongi has to talk about, he will physically show it and I swear it’ll finally get into your head with every little move, Yoongi has totally surrendered his tongue to your body and worships it.

[paterson-blue]

Shadow of the Sea: Chapter 1

Summary: Kylo is used to being alone. It's how he's survived this long, in the cold ocean depths. He can take care of himself. Other creatures--other merfolk--are dangerous; he has the scars to prove it. Humans, however, are the worst of all. But one day, Kylo finds he has no other choice but to turn to one for help. The human he meets is nothing like he expects, and all he knows is he wants more. Is he willing to pay the price?

Word Count: 4,394

Warnings: fem!AFAB!reader, plot set up, kylo ren needs a hug confirmed, non-graphic descriptions of violence & bodily harm, brief mentions of blood & wounds, very vague medical descriptions lol, minor character death (happens off screen), oh but there's also one that happens on screen but it's brief, big time ocean nostalgia from your dear author— let me know if I need to add anything else!

A/N: Thank you @paper-n-ashes for beta reading! Icon behavior tbh.

Prefer AO3? I gotcha!

Kylo prided himself on his independence—his ferocity, his ability to fight his way out of every corner. His body was scarred and battle-hardened, but that didn’t matter. It was proof he was a survivor, and it’s not like he had anyone around him to care about his appearance. Most creatures he saw took one look at his massive form and ran.

He was intimidating, all muscle, his fins torn from previous fights. While his skin was pale, his scales were an onyx color; it made blending into the ocean depths easier. He couldn’t understand why merfolk’s standard of beauty was a brightly colored tail; didn’t it make camouflaging more difficult?

He guessed most merfolk didn’t care about that. They lived in large groups, colorful and cheerful and busy amongst other plant and animal life. Not many delved into the cold, murky areas Kylo had made his home. But he’d been there as long as he could remember, and there was no sense in changing things. He wouldn’t be welcome in the warmer waters anyway. They didn’t want him, and he didn’t want them.

So he kept away, and no one dared bother him. Those that did quickly learned not to. He had killed many creatures, and while it was all in defense, his reputation still preceded him. After all, he’d once fought one of the most dangerous predators the ocean knew, and he’d won.

He’d killed a human, after they’d captured him in their net. He’d overpowered them easily, yanked them from their boat into the water; he hadn’t even flinched when their little fishing knife plunged into his side. He’d watched with a furious gaze as the air left their lungs, their pathetic struggling eventually ceasing. Then he’d calmly cut himself loose from the netting. The knife wound had scarred over, but it was just one more to add to his collection.

Yes, Kylo prided himself on his abilities. He had no fear, no weakness; he never ran from a fight.

He was running now.

He’d been foolish. He should have realized why his normal hunting grounds had been so devoid of fish for the past few days—he should have seen the signs, should have been more careful. But hunger makes you desperate; makes you stupid. He hadn’t been paying attention, too focused on the singular fish he’d found.

It seemed to happen all at once. A sudden blow to his head that left him reeling, pain shooting through his skull as he whips himself around in attempts to find his attacker. A searing burn in his side the exact moment he feels a sharp pinch at the back of his neck. His head starts to spin with confusion, the scent of his own blood in the water.

He spots a figure out of the corner of his eye, and his heart leaps into his throat. It was a human, and they had some sort of weapon pointed right at him.

Kylo doesn’t think—he just bolts. They don’t seem to follow him at first, and he doesn’t understand why until he starts to feel the first symptoms of whatever they’ve injected him with. It makes him dizzy, makes his vision start to blur as a sickening metallic taste fills his mouth.

No, he thinks. I won’t let them do this.

He pulls strength from deep within and pushes himself to swim faster, farther. He hears a muffled shout from behind, and oh, they’re pursuing him now.

He swims frantically, skirting around rocks and through kelp forests, desperately trying to lose them even though he thinks he might hear the dull thrum of a boat motor over the thudding of blood in his ears. Kriff, he was so tired. It would be so easy to let the human magic overtake him, to sink to the ocean floor.

Was this death? A dreamless sleep that crept over your senses until you had no choice but to succumb to it? Kylo doesn’t want to die, not like this. Not where they can get to him, at least.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, doesn’t even know where he is until he catches a quick glimpse of a familiar rock formation. His mind is in shambles, drugged and panicked, lacking oxygen as his gills burn with the strain of his labored breathing.

A cove. Not too far from here. Too shallow for a boat, too rocky for humans. A cave to shelter in. Go, swim, fast, now, now, go.

The voice in his head doesn’t feel like his own—it’s frantic, urgent, thoughtless. Usually he was so composed, controlled. The threat of death had turned him into nothing more than an animal; he’s never felt so small.

He ducks and weaves as he swims towards the hidden cove, trying to convince himself he’s doing it on purpose and not just fading in and out of consciousness. If he can just stay awake a little longer, if he can just make it to that kriffing cave, he can die with dignity. Alone and cold, drugged and bleeding, but away from the humans trying to hurt him.

Kylo nearly loses his speed when he breeches the shallow waters of the cove, his mind wanting to shut down now that he’s made it. He forces himself to keep going despite his nausea and lightheadedness. His lungs are screaming, muscles aching; he scrapes his tail against the rocky outcroppings as he searches frantically for the mouth of the underwater cave.

It’s here, it’s here. I know it’s here, I’ve seen it, I mapped it. Where is it?!

His hands snag against an opening, just barely big enough for him to squeeze through, and he darts into it. It’s a tight fit, and for a brief second Kylo is terrified he’ll get stuck and pass out from whatever the humans hit him with—he’ll die, trapped, never to be found.

But then, quick as a flash, he’s through to the other side. The small tunnel opens up into a larger cavern, protected from the elements and decorated with several pools of varying depths. He’d explored it once, curious, thinking it would be a nice place to hide. It was a little too close to humanity for his comfort, but then again he’d never seen this area very populated. He’d figured he’d keep it in the back of his mind for later.

Turns out later was now.

Kylo pulls himself to the edge of the main and deepest pool, looking around urgently through spotty vision. There was a pool in the corner, half hidden by rocks—it looked shallow, but just deep enough to be submerged. Exhaling fast, he hauls himself up and out of the water, coughing and choking as his body tries to adjust from using his gills to his mouth and nose to breathe. It was never an easy transition, and he hated doing it, but right now it was what he needed.

He growls to himself as he pulls his heavy body along the rough stone cave floor, his normally nimble tail a dead weight. If he wasn’t about to faint, he thinks he’d be a bit more graceful. By the time he rolls unceremoniously into the shallow pool, his palms are all scraped up and bleeding. He doesn’t care; barely feels the sting. He’s not really feeling much of anything at this point, head spinning out of control.

Laying like this on his back, head propped up against the ledge of the pool, Kylo gazes up at the jagged rock ceiling. His lungs crackle as he heaves in breaths, heart still pounding loudly. It’s hard to hear anything else, and he wonders again if his attackers are closing in on him. Does it even matter? His dying mind questions. He doesn’t have an opportunity to think of a retort before his body finally breaks, and he succumbs to the drug induced sleep.

—————————————————————

You wake to the familiar sounds of distant crashing waves, whistling wind, and calls of seagulls. After years on the island, the noise was a comfort.

You’d grown up here, in this same cottage by the sea--been raised fishing, hunting for mussels, searching through tide pools. You and your siblings would bike into town to sell your wares at the local market before heading down to the pier to watch the boats come and go. It was a simple life, sometimes a little isolated, but it was good nonetheless. You loved the island and the ocean, and held great respect for them both. If you honor them, they will honor you--at least, that’s what your mother always said.

Your siblings grew up and moved to the mainland, but still you stayed. Got yourself a little apartment in town above the local grocery, worked at the marina as a clerk, and visited your parents on the weekends. When your mother passed, your father followed just weeks later—a broken heart, everyone said. Suddenly, your beloved little slice of heaven—of home—belonged to you.

So you moved back into the cottage you grew up in, a place haunted by the ghosts of memories and the sounds of the sea. If you’re being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t trade it for the world, no matter how many times you pretend to entertain your siblings’ urging to rent the place out. Think of all the money you’d make. It’s the perfect vacation spot.

Maybe so, but you don’t care. You don’t want strangers in your home—not those tourists who come to fawn over the village, who eat up the landscape with cameras without really seeing it, who gawk at the fishermen, who laugh at the prices at the market. They would probably call your cottage quaint and cute. You could picture them tittering over your family photos on the mantle, over the door frame where heights had been marked over the years.

Tourists, who both long for and pity an isolated life on the ocean. Oh, they have it so easy here, away from the stress of the city. Oh, could you imagine living this way, barely scraping by?

No, you didn’t want them in your home, a place so sacred. You didn’t care what money you were missing out on—you got by fine with your pay from the marina, and picking up shifts at the local cafe. You loved your cottage—savored every creaky floorboard, every leaky windowsill. The drip of the bathroom faucet, the howl of the sea wind through the chimney—these were the sounds of familiarity, of safety. No one would appreciate them like you did.

Twisting around in bed, you turn your gaze towards the open window that was letting in a fresh, salty breeze. It was early, the light still dim and grey, the air a little chilly. It makes you want to curl back up under your covers, catch a couple more hours of shut-eye. It was your day off, after all; you could afford to sleep in.

Except.

You sigh, scrubbing your hands over your face as you remember what your yesterday brain had planned. You’d told yourself you’d get up in order to gather mussels at low tide. There were plenty of tide pools around, especially in the caved area of the cove. It was your family’s little secret—the hidden grotto was all but invisible from the outside. The only reason you even knew about it was because your brother had been too adventurous for his own good as a child, always getting into places he shouldn’t.

Mussels, clams, seaweed, probably fish in the deeper tide pools—maybe some sea urchin you could sell at the market. Your stomach growls.

Well, that’s that.

Groaning, you haul yourself up and out of bed, wincing at the cold hardwood on your bare feet. You bounce on your toes, shivering, goosebumps appearing on your skin as you pad over to close the window. Despite growing up here, you were always surprised at the temperature. You stubbornly let in the breeze at night, all bundled up under your covers, pretending when you woke it would be nice and warm.

But nope, not here; even in the dead of summer the mornings were chilly. Sometimes you dreamed that you lived on one of those big, luxurious, heated beaches—hot sun and white sand as far as the eye could see, no craggy cliffs or rocky shores. Eh. You probably wouldn’t like it much anyway, too used to your own environment.

Glancing at the clock, you quickly throw on some warm clothes, half-assing your regular morning routine before grabbing your tide-pool hunting essentials: a flashlight, knee-high waders, a large bucket, and your trusty fishing knife. You take a deep breath at the front door, bracing yourself for the chill. Just think of the feast you’ll have later. And you can reward yourself with a hot bath and long nap.

It’s not too long a distance from the cottage to the rocky shoreline, and while the low tide has revealed the tempting sand leading towards the rolling waves, you head towards the jagged outcropping to the left. Years of following the same path means it doesn’t take you long at all to find the hidden entrance and carefully make your way into the cavern.

In the middle of a sunny day, light shone in through various cracks in the ceiling, glinting off the water and creating flickering reflections against the stone walls. Sometimes you came here just to think, or to take a dip in the largest pool. The water was always warmer here, protected from the full power of the currents by the rock face.

Now, however, it was dark—only the dimmest bit of grey morning light trickled in. You flick on the flashlight, humming softly to yourself. The melody echoes off the stone walls, and you set your bucket down at the closest tide pool, readying yourself to hunker down and get to work. The beam of the light scans the various pools as you turn to get your knife from its holder, and something catches your eye. It’s not much, and honestly if you weren’t so familiar with the cave you probably wouldn’t have noticed the dark shape in the far corner pool.

At first, you do a double take, eyes sweeping over the little red-tinged puddles on the floor. Blood. You grip your knife, mind racing with possibilities. Was there someone in here with you? Surely not. No one ever came out here. Swallowing hard, you take a couple steps towards the corner, torch in one hand and knife in the other. As you get closer, your gaze tracks the diluted blood trail into the pool, and at first all you notice is the black scales and fins of a fish. The grip on your knife loosens just a little, the fear of a possible threat fading.

It's a big animal, you can tell that even as you make your way over, and you wonder idly how it got in. You knew, logically, that the cave connected to the ocean somehow, but you can't imagine the tide being so high for a fish as large as this one to find its way into the back corner. You’re focused on this conundrum as you round the ledge that’s been shielding the animal from your full view--so much so that it takes you more than a couple moments for your mind to compute just what it's seeing.

The tail is thick and muscular, decorated in obsidian scales that lead to delicate looking fins at the bottom. There were smaller, fan looking fins on the sides of the tail--they were all ripped up, as if they had been torn in previous fights. Your brain clocks all of this in seconds but doesn’t dwell, because it’s focused on the top half of the animal--creature--merman.

Merman. A fucking merman.

The ebony scales at the waist fade seamlessly into pale skin and lean muscle, revealing a long, firm torso. If you weren’t so aware of the tail, you might--might--think he could pass for human. Well, except for the webbed fingers and razor-sharp nails adorning each of his hands. He’s half submerged in the water of the pool, dark hair covering part of his face so you can’t see it.

You stand there, frozen, staring, not quite knowing what to do. You weren’t… scared; weren’t even very surprised aside from the initial shock of seeing him. You’d grown up hearing stories, traditions, tales—it was more than folklore here on the island. Some of the elders believed in merfolk more than ghosts, more than aliens, more than god.

Mr. Mackenzie told tales of mermaids luring in his shipmates as prey, drowning them. You always thought they were just stories designed to scare children away from dangerous tides—and maybe they were. But other accounts, you weren’t so sure of.

It was the wonder on Ms. Fraser’s face when she recounted the long-ago memory of swimming along sandbars with a girl who could breathe underwater. It was the quiet reverence of Mr. McDougall’s voice when he whispered about removing an old fish hook from a merman’s tail. It was the tears in Mrs. Buchanan’s eyes when she insisted merfolk rescued her husband from a fishing boat wreck.

You believed them. You always had, even if you’d done it silently, bashfully. You knew those who still made offerings to the ocean and to the beings that dwelled within the depths. Your island community believed in things not seen, but passed down through generations of storytelling. It was your history, kept alive despite first hand encounters becoming few and far between.

Except, here it was—your own little slice of history, right in front of you. If you took a couple more steps, you could reach out and touch it.

Is he breathing?

The little voice in your head brings you back down to your body, and a sudden fear overtakes you. You can’t let him die—if he was even still alive to begin with. You glance nervously at the pinkish trail of blood leading to the pool; the sight makes you reach some sort of resolve.

Hyper-aware of the claws on his hands, you kneel down beside him, hesitating only briefly before you settle your hand on his large bicep. He doesn’t stir, and your stomach twists unpleasantly. Your hand slides down to his wrist, and while you can admit you aren’t an expert on merfolk anatomy, surely you’ll be able to feel a pulse from the spidery blue veins under his pale skin.

Relief washes over you in a wave when you do, indeed, find a pulse—slow, but strong. Okay, not dead then. Still, he doesn’t move, so you take it upon yourself to move his damp hair out of his face, curling it behind his prominent ears.

He’s handsome.

You feel yourself flush, immediately chastising yourself for the thought. This was—best case scenario—a complete stranger who was wounded and in possible danger. Worst case scenario… you didn’t want to think about. Needless to say, it was no time to be thinking about his level of attractiveness.

You force yourself back into action, cupping his head as you hold your hand under his nose. His breathing is steady, and you gently lay his head back where it rested on the rock ledge. Your fingertips brush against something, and you frown as you realize he has a lump on the back of his skull—as if he’s been hit. You can only hope it hasn’t done too serious damage; it wasn’t like you could really take him to the hospital.

Your attention moves down his body, and you make yourself bypass the gills in his neck in order to properly gauge his wounds. Minor cuts and scrapes littered his skin; from the number of scars decorating his form, you figure these aren’t a big deal, no matter how nasty they look. Not compared to the gash on his side, at least.

You wince when you see it, the delicate flesh torn open and ragged. The cut makes you think it’s from some man-made weapon, and you shake your head in disbelief. Who would want to harm a merman? Around here, it would be blasphemous to do such a thing.

Blood no longer seeps from the wound; you hope that’s a good sign—and that the salt water has somewhat cleaned the area. You think it may have needed stitches, but you’re no doctor with the ability to do such a procedure. If you're being honest with yourself, it’s probably far too late for stitches anyway. The wound would be another nasty scar, likely similar to the one marring his face, but the area isn’t red with infection. That’s a good sign, right?

You sigh, feeling helpless. You want to do something for the creature. There’s only one thing you can really think of. Chewing on your bottom lip, you study his face again. He still seems unresponsive, and you can only hope he stays that way a little longer.

The short trek back up to your home feels the longest it’s ever been, and your legs and lungs are burning by the time you rush through the front door, having run the entire way. You heave in breaths as you pack some supplies into a bag. It wasn’t much, but you should be able to use the waterproof gauze and antibiotic ointment to dress the nasty-looking scrapes on his hands and chest.

You hesitate for a moment before going into your bathroom and grabbing the waterproof pillow you had in the tub. Maybe it was silly, but you hated thinking about him lying on the hard ground for fuck knows how long. You almost grab some food for him—maybe the fish currently thawing in your fridge—but you decide not to. You weren’t sure what he ate, and there was no telling when he’d wake up anyway.

Your breathing has just settled back to normal by the time you’re jogging back to the cave, careful not to slip on any of the wet grass and rocks. The sun starts to peak out of the morning clouds, letting pale beams of light warm the grey morning. The cavern is illuminated slightly better when you enter; you find you can lay the flashlight at a distance and see just fine.

The merman is still asleep, and you feel a little relieved. You aren’t exactly sure what will happen when he wakes up—for all you know, you’ll return later in the day to find him gone. As it is, you plop down next to the pool he was in and get to work patching him up the best you can.

Taking the towel you brought with you, you dab at his scrapes, trying to dry them a little before applying the ointment and then carefully using the gauze to cover the wounds. His palms are so torn up that you wrap them completely, your brows knitted the entire time. It must hurt, but still, he doesn’t stir.

Finally, you’re left with the gash in his side. You debate with yourself as to whether you should cover it or not—if you even can. The front of his torso was out of the water with the way he was laying, but that could change at any second, and any real pressure on his body would cause him to sink into the pool.

Your urge to help him wins out in the end, and you decide you’ll try to bandage it to protect it from any further irritation, despite knowing water would seep in regardless. You lean forward, extra careful not to lose your balance as you pat at his pale skin with the towel once more. It’s an awkward angle and slow work, you trying your best to be gentle with him.

You add as much ointment as you dare to the bandaging, not wanting to put too much onto an open wound, before fixing the gauze to his torso with some waterproof medical tape. There. Sure, it wasn’t going to work a miracle but at this point you weren’t sure what else to do.

He’ll be okay, you tell yourself. He’ll be okay.

You take a moment to watch the rise and fall of his chest, reassured by the movement. Your gaze again drifts to his tail in fascination—you hope that, maybe, you’ll come back later and he’ll be awake. Maybe he’ll be friendly, maybe the two of you can talk. It’s illogical, you know. This wasn’t some fairytale, this was real life. You honestly just hoped he didn’t try to rip you to shreds on sight.

It’s with this thought in mind that you shift away from him, telling yourself you can’t sit and watch him all day. You have several other pools to collect mussels from, breakfast to cook, chores to do. You’ve done enough, and you have to trust that his body will do the rest—you refuse to entertain the idea that he might not make it.

Sighing, you pull yourself further away, but then remember the pillow you’d brought along. You grab it quickly before shuffling back towards him. He’s got a large lump of seaweed shoved haphazardly under his head in what you assume was a desperate attempt to soften the rock face underneath.

His damp hair is surprisingly soft when you gently lift his head to clear the ground of debris. You can’t help but run your fingers through it gently, brushing it behind his ears, almost trying to soothe his subconscious. You settle the small foam pillow in place, and slowly let his head and neck rest against it. You hope it makes some sort of difference, though you know it might be a childish thought.

Your task finished, you force yourself away from him once more, even though you suddenly ache to continue touching him. Picking up your things, you continue on your mission of prying mussels from each tidepool. You move slower and quieter than you normally would, shooting the merman furtive glances every few seconds.

By the time you’re finished with the last pool, you can’t find an excuse to linger any longer. He was as safe as he was going to be. The only thing left to do now was wait. You spare your new charge one last lingering look, then grab your things and head back to the house.

______________________________________________________________

taglist friends!

@leatherboundbirate @fathersonandhouseofgucci @paper-n-ashes @direnightshade @jynzandtonic @glassbxttless @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @mariesackler @millenialcatlady @sacklerscumrag @peachyproserpina @cornmousequeen @eagerforhoney @icarusinthesea @heartofjakku

[blackradandmad]

why blippi is rotting yr children's brains

preface: i literally expect no one to read this. it is an essay length, strong opinion piece critiquing a niche youtube-based children's show that i don't expect most of y'all to even have knowledge of lol. but like, i promise that even if you know nothing about what i'm talking about, in my incredibly, super humble opinion, it's a good piece of writing and interesting nonetheless. anyway if you read this whole thing for some reason yr really hot and we should kiss.

i thoroughly vet everything my child watches before he watches it, episode by episode. and we rarely watch youtube for entertainment; we usually just look up educational videos when he has a question about something and wants more detail than i can provide him. and that's mainly because children's content on youtube is so fucking troubling and distressing. i don't judge parents who give their children a tablet at a restaurant at all bc i've been there and sometimes it's easier on everyone to just put on a video and avoid a giant scene, but i do judge parents who just leave their children alone with youtube kids on autoplay.

take stevin john, a literal millionaire who got famous from dressing up as a silly character called blippi and going on tours of places like aquariums, zoos, construction sites, etc and posting it on youtube. this has branched into a whole empire of blippi videos, hulu shows and specials, live shows and tours (that he outsources to another character actor), merchandise and so on. this 30-something year old man cites his main influence as being mr. rogers, but i question if he's ever even seen an episode of that program.

mr. rogers had no background in early childhood development or media production, but he revolutionized the world of children's media, because he respected his audience and didn't shy away from real world situations, all while creating a show with an enormous heart. mr. rogers begins his episodes by inviting the viewer in, literally changing his attire to be more comfortable, and talking about/doing things he genuinely cares about. whereas mr. rogers calmly and maturely addresses the viewer, blippi puts on a high pitched, contrived voice, interjecting every other sentence with a forced exclamation such as, "teehee! we're having so much fun!"

i don't find it a coincidence that john (blippi) is a veteran, either. his videos are completely devoid of the absurd, abstract, childlike thinking that makes children's media fun, creative, and entertaining. his thinking and process is methodical, devoid of emotion, and very superficial. this line of thinking clearly shows the kind of creative sterilization and emphasis on sameness and conformity instilled in the military. blippi simply observes things and interacts with them in a stale, matter-of-fact way. "this ball is purple! this ball is pink! anyway... what's over there? teehee! a car! vroom, vroom!" objects are colors, toy cars don't do anything but drive, curiosity is simply not encouraged.

he uses the "it's educational!" excuse to hide the fact that his show lacks everything that makes media a valuable resource for children to consume in the first place. further than identifying colors, numbers, and the occasional letter or shape, there is just this total lack of children's need for social and emotional development. when mr. rogers breaks the fourth wall to address the viewer and let them know they're special, it feels authentic and natural, because we've spent the last half hour building whole worlds with diverse characters and unique stories in a pretend neighborhood, learning about and enjoying different musical instruments, being exposed to and making friends with (even if parasocially, it is still a real bond to children when done properly) children who are similar to us in character regardless of physical or environmental differences, feeding the fish, making art together, and so on. when blippi tells the viewer, "you are very special, and i enjoy spending time with you!" it falls completely flat and feels unearned, because the last half hour was spent running around a soft play center pointing at bright, colorful objects, visiting interesting locations like farms or fruit production factories while failing to acknowledge the humanity of the humans actually working there (everything is machine or product focused; the human workers are simply an extension of the machine), learning "fun facts" about elephants that just list attributes of elephants, not taking the opportunity to inform the viewers of elephants' intelligence, or diet, or matriarchal society. it is a loud, sensory overwhelming display of a man so disconnected from the social and emotional needs and desires of children that he assumes they're stupid, easily entertained idiots who only need some silly dances and fast-moving cartoon graphics to give their attention (meaning time and desire to purchase products meaning $$$). john clearly views his audience as a means to gaming the algorithm and ultimately a paycheck by the hollow way he addresses them.

the show is so narcissistic, so focused on all the fun blippi is supposedly having, but he lacks any of the character traits that make individual children's show hosts memorable, so much so that he was able to have someone else who doesn't even vaguely resemble him dress as blippi and impersonate him and host the show or appear at live shows, and it went unnoticed by most of his toddler and child audience. the show is so formulaic and the character of blippi is so unmemorable that instead of taking the blue's clues route of developing a story of the host leaving for college and his brother now stepping in, or making some sort of believable excuse for the change in actors, they can simply swap him out with some random guy and not acknowledge it at all. although a comedy show for older children, the amanda show in no way could or would try to replicate the show with the same name but swapping out amanda bynes with a random teenage girl who is clearly not amanda bynes. it's weird and nonsensical and shows that his character is so much of a farce put on for a paycheck that not even his dedicated audience is affected or even cares when he is replaced by a random, unknown person.

this is completely garbage content made by an opportunist with no experience with children who saw his nephew watching children's youtube content, took it at complete surface level and still hasn't realized that while children's content only looks and feels so easy, entertaining, and enriching because it is so hard to do well. even with outsourcing his music, that aspect of the show still sucks. famous and successful children's musician, raffi, is known for his song describing the life of a little white whale, called "baby beluga." it opens with a calm strumming of his guitar, followed by the lyrics, "baby beluga in the deep blue sea/swim so wild and you swim so free/heaven above/sea below/and a little white whale on the go." is it silly and kind of pointless? yes, but the point is that he is captivating children and showing them the fun of listening to music, dancing, singing, and appreciating art. the "excavator song" featured in an episode of blippi about construction vehicles opens with what sounds like a default garageband loop and the flatly sung lyrics, "i'm an excavator/i'm an excavator/hey dirt, see you later/i'm an excavator." i don't feel i have to meticulously analyze the aforementioned lyrics; the stark contrast should speak for itself.

i have a million more criticisms about both blippi specifically and youtube children's content as a whole, but this is already so long and i doubt many people will get this far anyway. it's an issue i was completely apathetic towards until i had my own child and had to wean him off these kinds of junk food shows because i realized the fast-paced visuals and bright colors and repetitive songs/lyrics were putting him in this spaced-out, fugue state, and he thought he could demand this show or that show whenever he wanted. the moment he started regularly yelling things like, "watch! cars!" or "no! click it!" i knew i had to be a lot more invested in the things he watched even if just for entertainment or as a soothing message. i showed him an episode of mr. rogers yesterday and feared it would be too slow to hold his attention, but he was mesmerized, greeting and interacting with mr. rogers verbally, asking me, "what's that?" to different objects on the screen. since purging this low-brow children's entertainment, he has had a noticeable increase in attention span and concentration, can focus on a task for longer amounts of times, is more likely to "read"/look through books without me initiating it, and doesn't throw a fit when the tv/my laptop is off.

i just know that for me, growing up with so much unsupervised internet access definitely led me to real-world pain and consequences, and it seems like now children are born with an iphone as an extension of their arm. if my child is going to be consuming videos, i'm definitely supervising every second and am going to be highly critical of the videos and the credentials (or lack thereof) of the creators and team behind it. but i also know, from pure observation admittedly, that parents letting youtube kids autoplay parent their children for hours at a time is not an uncommon occurrence. and it worries me that a generation of children are being raised on videos that rely on being as loud and bright and superficially enjoyable as possible. what's the use of a child knowing their colors and alphabet if they don't know how to treat people with kindness and empathy and respect? there is something wrong for a children's show host to plug the spelling of his name at the end of his videos ("well, that's the end of this video. but if you wanna watch more of my videos, just type in my name! can you spell my name with me? b-l-i-p-p-i!") after essentially rotting his audiences' brains for a half hour. there's something so insidious about the prioritization of naming different parts of construction vehicles over honest depictions of and conversations about dealing with feelings, or why someone with autism may act differently than you, or what to do when you feel lonely, or ways to make art and express yrself creatively. also, not to mention the blatant police propaganda and outright worship is seriously jarring; as a black mother to a visibly non-white child, i cannot sit there and watch blippi show kids how to be a bootlicker for the shittiest profession on earth, but that could be a whole essay in and of itself.

anyway, thanks for reading, if yr looking for quality children's content, i recommend, in no specific order: mr. rogers, sesame street, the electric company, molly of denali, daniel tiger, bluey!, blue's clues, the odd squad, word party, trash truck, puffin rock, uhh... that's definitely not an extensive list but that's just off the dome!!! ok bye y'all <333

[princessofprocrastination]

She’s Creepy (Dream)

MASTERLIST

pairing : dream / clay x reader. 

summary : apparently being a huge fan of a big youtuber is considered being a creep, according to minecraft gamer, dream. and ever since he called you mean things, your world turned upside down. (ANGST) (TRIGGER WARNING)

a/n : i’m aware i’ve been writing all angsts, i just enjoy a little heartbreak. this is a two part story!

you haven’t been on social media as a public figure for long, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been on social media before this.

you knew people, you had people you look up to, as of many other social media influencers or content creators. 

you grew pretty quick on youtube and instagram. your content mostly included room makeovers whenever you felt bored of your own home or your storytimes. you blew up from talking about your stalker. 

since then, your subscibers stayed with you and supported you, saying that you have a charm, and that you exert good energy and vibes. and those type of comments have always made your day.

you always shared with your supporters about your life, not too personal but enough for them to feel included. of course, you’re not telling them your phone number or address, but you tried to share as many details you can legally in your story times. 

that also meant that you would tell your supporters small details about you, such as what book you were currently reading or who you’ve been watching on youtube. 

even before you stated posting on your channel, you’ve been watching a minecraft youtuber, dream and his friends. 

some of your fans would tag them in some of your instagram posts, or tweets that brought no harm so you never really acknowledged it since it wasn’t hurting anyone. 

you weren’t “fangirling” you’d say. it was more of you supported them and found them funny and entertaining. 

coincidentally, you landed yourself on the dream team tiktok, which means that dream and his friends were all over you for you page. 

and to show that you were active and not dead to your followers on instagram, you’d post a funny tiktok, usually included the dream team. you thought it was harmless. to you, it was just a way to show support. 

but only a couple days later, hashtags about you and the dream team, more specifically, just dream, were trending. 

when you saw this, opening your twitter app, you immediately went to find out what this was about. your heart jumped when you thought maybe dream acknowledged you. 

in fact, it was worse. 

what was trending was a short video clip during one of the dream teams chill streams on the dream smp. 

the conversation between george, sapnap and dream went like this. 

“you guys heard about that girl who kept reposting tiktoks about us on her instagram story?” george asked the other two boys. 

“heard she watched us before she even started her channel” sapnap. 

“i don’t know about you guys, but i think she’s being a little creepy.” dream said. 

your heart sunk to your stomach. did your actions portray you to be a creep to other people?

“dream, you can’t just say that, especially on stream.” sapnap scolded him, george also mumbling something. 

“why can’t i? i feel creeped out by her, a public figure posting me all over her socials.” dream replied, tone serious. 

you clicked off the video, before it replayed again. you couldn’t get yourself to rewatch that, to hear those words again. 

almost crying, you told yourself to suck it up, that this wasn’t worth you crying. 

although they were who you looked up as minecraft gamers, this wasn’t worth your breakdowns. 

that was until, you opened your direct messages.

you shouldn’t have. you knew the dream team stans would easily hunt you down, to ask you to back off from creeping their idol off. 

but no, you still opened your dms. you expected a normal dm, ones that say they support you or some of your friends sending you memes through instagram. 

what you didn’t expect was to see a flood of threats. 

some said “kill yourself, you don’t deserve a spot on earth after what you did.” and “back off and leave my mans.” 

it got worse from there. you thought maybe it’s just the dms, but you didn’t expect it to blow up more, with people tagging you with photos on instagram and twitter. people “cancelling” you. 

you didn’t understand how this blew up like this. you were even more baffled to see some of your supporters sending you threats, too. 

was this what you deserved? 

you weren’t one to make rash decisions, nor were you a suicidal person. 

you felt stupid. just because you supported big youtubers, you get this type of treatment?

the threats, the dm, never stopped. for three whole months, you had to deal with the never ending mean comments on your social media. you thought it would die down. 

it came to the point of seeing your address and your phone number all over the internet. you never thought it would lead to this. 

you didn’t know what to do anymore. 

not long after, people started showing up to your apartment. 

sure, your apartment didn’t have the best of security, which you blamed no one but yourself for being a public figure and living somewhere with little to no security. 

they started with knocking on your door during ungodly hours. next was mailing weird stuff or sending stuff to your house. lastly, which tipped you off was that they would vandalize your apartment. 

they would egg your front door, pee, or spray paint your walls of the outside. 

you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

soon enough, you knew you had to stand up for yourself. you had to call the police. 

and that was exactly what you did. you called the authorities, which made the brave teenagers leave you alone. 

while they were egging your house and making your life miserable, you knew this was the only time for you to make a rash decision. to leave the country, to somewhere no one else would fine you at. somewhere unpredictable, that no one would expect you to go.

it took a lot for you to book a plane ticket, box up your belongings and move to a completely different country, away from your hometown, florida. 

you loved it in florida. though it was humid all the time, you enjoyed it. now that you had to leave, you only had a little while to cherish it before you leave it all behind. 

and your family, your friends. the ones you’ve grown up with, ones you’ve grown to love and cherish. you had to leave that too. and without telling them too much information. 

that hurt the most, needing to leave your loved ones behind, to start a new life, to start afresh. 

-

DREAM’S POV

i didn’t know what was happening. one thing added onto another and soon it was out of control. 

i didn’t say anything at the start, not thinking it would go this far. i didn’t know to what extent my fans would go.

sure, i saw all the things happening, but i didn’t do anything to stop it. 

i saw her address and phone number all over social media, and did nothing about it. 

george and sapnap said something, and pushed me to do something about it, but i didn’t. i was stubborn.

speaking of, it’s been months since i heard anything about her from her herself, everything i see is from my fans or hers, wondering where she is.

should i be worried?

-

YOUR POV

you left florida. the only people you told were your parents and your childhood friend, not trusting anyone else. 

what you told them was vague, that you needed to leave, away from the US. specifically, you moved to Australia. 

you made a decision to not live near the city, but the outskirts. 

you were lucky that you weren’t a spender and you made more than enough money to make the decision to leave so suddenly. 

lucky for you, you went to college and had a degree in law, so you didn’t need to worry about not having a job.

you never thought you’d make use of your degree this early in your life, thinking that youtube and being a content creator would last a little while longer. 

you had to change you hairstyles, your fashion in general since you had to be in a more professional setting. although it was hard transitioning from a casual wear and having crazy coloured hair to wearing pant suits or formal dresses and going back your natural colour. 

three years. it took you three full years for you to even think of visiting your parents in florida again. also, given the fact that you had a stable job and you couldn’t up and leave. 

but recently, you were offered to work at another law firm in florida. you were happy to tell that to your family back home but at the same time, you were hesitant to go back to your nightmares. 

but you braved yourself, since you missed your family dearly. 

now, you were sitting on your desk in your cozy home, finalizing up the last of your move, like getting a house back in florida, this time with a better security just in case. 

boxes of your clothes and belongings went first, to reach your new house there before you did so it was easier for you, not having to worry about your stuff. 

you asked none of your family’s help, not wanting to burden them. instead you told them to just meet you at a restaurant you booked for you and your family and friends for dinner about three weeks after you landed. 

although they protested, saying it was too long until they can see you again, you told them to not worry and that you were going to use those three weeks to start working at the new law firm.

you decided to take a straight flight from australia to florida, not wasting any time. although it was almost a twenty-two hour long flight, you sat throug and got to your hometown safely. 

you didn’t know what was going on with the three boys you used to adore, since you didn’t have social media anymore. 

but you didn’t mind it, it was peaceful. 

two weeks since you’ve stepped foot in florida again. it felt amazing to breathe your hometown air again. it was refreshing. 

you have fully settled in your new house, and workplace. you were glad to have met your co-workers. they were all super welcoming and made sure you weren’t left behind in anything. 

so far, your transition from australia to florida has been smooth, and you weren’t worried about anything. 

you got a car since you’ve arrived, so that you could travel easily from one place to another. 

not to brag, but. you were making enough money to live a lavish lifestyle. a big house and a pretty expensive car, and that didn’t even make a dent in your bank account. 

you were proud to see that you achieved all this yourself, and only within a couple of years. 

you were just excited to meet your family in real life instead of facetime. 

finally, the day of the dinner with your family came. unfortunately, you had to take a case in the afternoon, so you had to come to dinner in your work pant suit, with a turtleneck and a little late. 

they understood it and told you not to worry about it, and that they would just seat themselves by your name instead of waiting for you. you promised you’d pay their dinners and apologized once again. 

the sound of your heels comforted you as you walked from the valet to the restaurant. you were a little nervous to meet them again face to face after three years. but you couldn’t wait to catch up with them and tell them all about your work life that you could never tell them during the facetime calls. 

you smiled to yourself, thinking nothing could go wrong. and nothing could really go wrong anyways, it was just a dinner after all.

but you hadn’t expected the three boys you used to idolize to be eating dinner at the same restaurant you and your family would be at, specifically, opposite your table.

you walked in the restaurant, telling the front of the house that you had a table reserved under your name and that you were pretty sure the rest of your family was already there. 

she politely told you to walk alongside her, leading you to your family. 

you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. you were solely focused on seeing your family that you didn’t know that there were extra pair of eyes staring at you. 

you smiled as your family saw you. your mum crying while standing up to hug you tightly, as she once did three years ago. 

you could hear your friends shout your name loudly, as if to tell the whole world that you were finally here. 

“don’t cry, i’m staying, no more going back to australia, i swear.” you told your mum, trying to reassure her that you were fine and that you were not going to leave her again, since she hadn’t stopped crying.

you moved to hug your dad, who had been patiently waiting for his turn after his wife. “you look great, kiddo.” you thanked him as he complimented your professional look. 

you sat down, somewhere in the middle, between your family, opposite of your parents so that everyone could clearly see and talk to you easily. 

with how noisy you family were, you were sure the entire restaurant knew your name and where you had just moved from. 

they asked you about australia, what was it like to work there, away from your family. you caught up with every single one of them. 

“don’t you live in that really expensive neighbourhood right now?” one of your childhood friends asked. 

you winked at her, discreetly trying to answer her question. the whole table shouted and congratulated you for making it this far, in only a matter of short years. 

you covered your face, shy, not wanting this part of your life to be told to everyone in the restaurant. 

-

GEORGE’S POV 

there she was. the person whose life we practically ruined. luckily, we didn’t ruin it all for her. i guess she made use of her brains and is working a normal job.

“dude.” i tried to attract the other two boys’ attention. 

“i know.” both of them answered me. 

“she’s rich rich, huh?” sapnap almost chuckled but was totally serious saying that. 

“yup.” dream. 

ah yes, clay. the man dream himself. sapnap and i tried to persuade him into making it right for her, for you. 

sure, he had said those mean words, but he can take it back. three years ago, at least. 

she disappeared three years ago. vanished. no one knew where you went. some say you moved out of the country, which deemed to be true. couple of years later people started to find out what you worked as, but i tried my best to help get rid of the information 

but they just couldn’t pinpoint where. you basically uped and left everything. 

and there was time to apologize, but it had been to late. 

i thought she died, quite frankly. i didn’t want to be the cause of someone dying. well at least, not me, but my friend. 

now us three were seated in a pretty formal and expensive restaurant to eat dinner. and we did not expect to see her here. 

she came in a little late, wearing a very professional wear. seemed like you went to work before this. 

i knew you were a lawyer, we three knew that since our fans found it out. 

she looked completely different. hair not her usual crazy colours. just seeing her in heels baffled me. she was wearing something formal and that wasn’t what you usually wore, years ago. 

- 

DREAMS’S POV 

she’s beautiful.

not that she wasn’t before. 

but this version of her was different. her in her pant suit, in heels. a turtleneck under her blazer. 

she looked elegant. classy. rich. 

i mean, she is rich. 

her family screamed when she told them where she lived. and man, that neighbourhood only had rich people. it had one of the best, if not the best security you could ask for. 

it wasn’t easy to buy a house there. even if you had the money, you’d need a certain bank card to be allowed to even be shortlisted. 

and if i saw it correctly, she drives a bentley that was just parked by a valet kid. 

damn. she is one successful woman. 

i know, how could i think this much of her, how dare i when i didn’t even apologized. i didn’t even try. 

in fact. i did. even before she went MIA, fully on social media, i sent her direct messages everywhere. she never replied to any of them. 

and i knew no one that had her phone number. and soon enough, no one had heard from her in three years. 

and now she’s back. more beautiful than ever. 

i needed to speak to her i couldn’t live with the guilt that stayed for these past three years. 

my fans, my so called supporters made her life a living hell and i almost did nothing to stop it. 

i’m sure she hates me. but i have to try somehow, right?

question is, she didn’t have a social media anymore, and i can’t just speak to her now that she was sitting opposite my table. 

i kept on pondering as i heard a little bit of her conversation, about her life. 

i guess she moved to australia, and worked in a lawfirm in the outskirts. so unpredictable of her. no one would’ve guessed that in a million years. 

i watched as i see her smile as she listened to what her parents were saying. 

i cherished the smile since i didn’t know when was the next time i’d see her. 

she asked the waiter for the bill, covering the whole cost of her and her huge family’s meal. 

damn, this girl is too rich for her own good. 

she puts down the bill on the table, also leaving a generous tip for the waiter that served them. she stood up to walk after her family, needing to pass my table. 

since she had been oblivious to her surroundings, i didn’t expect her to spot us, to notice us. 

but i was wrong. 

PART 2

[genesisrose74]

Requested by @blanknamed (aka my bestie fr): hihi i saw the matchup and remembered my irl friend sent me these pictures when describing my aesthetic at one point and was wondering if i can have a matchup with someone from dsmp and dr. stone 🥺congrats on 1k too! so proud of you ❤️ you deserve this milestone!

Arielle get over here and let me give you a virtual kiss on the forehead because you’re just the sweetest person to ever grace this earth 😚forgive me for the long wait but i had to put so much into this one because it’s for you!! thank you for always being such a ray of sunshine and for becoming one of my first ever mutuals so long ago — and as a show of my gratitude, i’ll get right into your first pairing, which is going to be with…

I had a literal conflict over this because I think you could be compatible with more than half of the characters in dr. stone (looking at gen specifically), but UGH you and Senku would be so damn iconic together. As much as he’s not intent on becoming romantically involved with anyone, it just so happened that you both had a chance meeting together at the school library — in the modern times pre-petrification, of course. You were looking for a book on the development of radiation powered technology for a history class, and by coincidence Senku was reading the blurb of that very text when you stopped by. When you asked if he’d read it, your classmate simply shook his head and said he just knew a lot about the subject, and soon enough a conversation blossomed from that point.

Y’all talked for two hours. While standing in the same spot. TWO HOURS. And it didn’t even stop there because he realized the time and asked if you wanted to talk more over a bowl of this really good ramen he knew about close by. Senku barely even realized the implications of his offer until much later, since…

He was way too involved in your conversation to notice

He’s never had any interest like that in someone before, let alone has he ever tried asking a person out in general

Everything about you was so interesting to him that he cannot process anything else going on around him and he doesn’t know why

You just feel so different in comparison to his dynamic with anyone else that it throws him off. He’s curious as to why he straightens up when you walk in a room, why everytime you smile at his stupid dry jokes it makes him more confident, why your intrigued questions about his work give him an extra burst of adrenaline. After he comes home late, having fallen asleep in the library while you studied for a test beside him, Byakuya eventually spells it out for Senku in massive bold letters.

No, seriously, he writes it on a whiteboard with a chunky black marker.

“That’s ridiculously far-fetched,” he asserts quickly, trying to push his old man out of the room. “Since when have I ever been interested in anyone in that way?”

“Senku, you waited for her to finish her work. Without complaint.”

And he’s like: oh shit—

But knowing Senku, he still makes some futile attempts to disprove the concept that he could ever be attracted to someone in a romantic sense. Ya know, all that, “science is my only devotion” shit. It lasted for about two weeks, which was the exact amount of time that he tried avoiding you in hopes of seeing if he could in fact continue his routine without your presence next to him.

The bitch still cannot swallow his pride though, so you have to be the one to make the first move — which is about as simple as perfecting Flight of the Bumblebee on a violin. Every time you try bringing it up, it’s like Senku gets a sixth sense about it and is pulled away from you as soon as possible. At some point you just had to corner him in the school lab, hands smacking against the surface of his work table and mouth blurting it out.

“I think we should go on a date.”

He’s kinda impressed at the sheer willpower you displayed in finally getting the question into the air. And as much as he would hate to admit it, some happy nerves shot through his body when it happened. On the outside, though, he simply failed to fight a grin.

“Wanna get food with me tonight?”

And you did :D and it only went good from there. Dates at cafes with comfy chairs and pretty lighting, test runs of new experiments in the middle of the night that Senku calls you to see together, just enjoying the presence of one another in a secluded corner of the libraries you frequent. Even after the disaster that was petrification you’re both side by side, being sarcastic little shits to each other as soon as Senku frees you from the stone; doing new tests to save the world, going on picnics by the river, and constantly being of service to one another.

And then from the c!dsmp, I thought it was only fitting to match you up with…

^^ artwork by SAD-ist on YouTube

Listen, listen: I was considering a more standard/expected approach to this matchup, like maybe c!Wilbur or c!Niki because they’ve both got some major academia vibes. Especially Niki, because damn she’d probably take you to her flower shop and make handmade bouquets for you each day. However, I just think that it would be so perfectly fitting to have you and c!Sapnap together aesthetically. He’s very emotionally driven, always doing something stupid, and he probably hasn’t read a book since L’manburg claimed to be a sovereign nation. Regardless of that fact, he could sit and watch you read a book for hours, even if you didn’t ask him to. Standard case of grounded scholar + impulsive idiot = natural soulmates.

Within the region of the SMP, I imagine you like confining yourself to the libraries filled with ancient texts on the vast history of your home — although taking a visit to Eret’s self-made museum is always a pleasure as well. Niki gets along with you easily enough that you hang out together all the time, and it’s on one such occasion in the early days of L’manburg that Sapnap encounters you for the first time.

Dream had sent him out for scouting duty (which to Sapnap translates into, ‘be annoying to everyone within the walls’), and he’d taken to the edge of the country’s small borders, lounging up high above the trees so that he could see everything below with ease. To his surprise he found you, scribbling away within a ragged old notebook underneath a tree canopy, and wearing the prettiest smile he’d ever seen exist on a person before. You were waiting for your friend to arrive, it seemed, taking the ideas in your head and putting them to paper whilst you sat patiently. He was enraptured with you right away, and as a result he took to teasingly pestering you every chance he could.

Sapnap showed up at least once a week — and when he could, more than that — to slowly learn more about you. He tried staying under the radar of Wilbur when he did, just to make sure none of his endeavors were interfered with or got back to Dream in any capacity. Initially, his presence appeared a pain in your side, but your apprehension ultimately fell at the hands of his ridiculous humor and genuine inquiries as to your likes and dislikes. You knew who he was from the get-go, but it was hard not to find delight in his visits when he made such vigorous attempts to know you.

Although you’re sure he’d already learned it somehow, you told him your name one fateful afternoon, and he’s thought about that moment every day since, marking it as the first day he truly made progress in winning you over.

“You should come up here one day so we can talk normally,” he called out on a particularly overcast fall morning. “Maybe then I can see your face up close.”

You laughed, gazing up at him from the hillside on which you reclined. “You’re ridiculous. That’s not how this relationship works.”

“Mm, relationship? Sounds like you wanna gimme a kiss more than saying anything, hu—ow!”

A pine cone had clipped him in the shoulder harmlessly, chucked with expert aim by your own hand. Despite his surprise, Sapnap couldn’t help smiling.

“If you’re working that hard to twist the narrative and get me up there, how about you just come down instead?”

Without missing a beat the next day, he scaled to the top of the nation’s wall, made his way inside (with very little consideration for his safety), and took your face in his hands.

“You want me to?”

You already knew the implications. “Yeah.”

And he kissed you, then and there. Nice job, Ari!

Navigating a full blown relationship in the conditions y’all were in was not ideal. Sapnap tried everything he could to make sure you were safe, despite his distaste for your mother country and its leaders. After that cleared, though, it was a whole lot easier to be together and figure things out. Sapnap didn’t mind you staying within the walls as much as he initially thought because it reminded him of the first time you met, and so long as he could spend time with you he loved every second. Literally ask this man to do anything with you and he’s in, no matter what it is.

The sheer spontaneous energy Sapnap has inevitably feeds into your own, so while you’re much more contained than the pyromaniac, you have some very notable moments of crazy that are simply unforgettable. It’s honestly super funny to see that infectious life invade your senses, because otherwise you’re a super logical person and love entertaining yourself with the more simplistic things.

You work a lot with Wilbur on record keeping and cartography, but something that you and Sapnap apparently have in common is archery. That pine cone throw was no fluke, and he found that out when you came to visit, a shimmering bow fastened to a stock-full quiver on your back. It’s become a pastime to both ride out into the forest with your horses and practice archery (oftentimes mounted) as a way to let out frustration. If the weather conditions are too abysmal to go and do something outdoors, though, Sapnap likes to fall asleep watching you do methodical work, most commonly with his head in your lap as a fireplace crackles nearby. He’s a huge sucker for that cozy atmosphere, even though he tries to be all tough and badass at other times.

This became a huge ramble because I just think this pairing for you works so well, but I’m praying you get the picture. Sapnap is a flirty, slightly whiny, very protective, and free spirited person whenever you’re around, and he’d do whatever he could to see that pretty smile like the first day you told him your name. He thinks the world of you, and in his eyes your intelligence goes unparalleled.