#maybe if it bothers them so much they should just make an account somewhere else

[allmoshnobrain]

like fr I don't like it when blogs here try to shame people (specially young women) for thirsting over rockstars. you don't need to keep telling them they're cringe on unhinged or weird for talking about wanting them, it's not like anyone here really think they got a real chance or something, it's just some silly harmless fun. get over it.

[ganondoodle]

this isnt a call out for anyone; i keep getting asked why i even post my opinions on the internet if i dont want to argue whenever i mention how tired i am of people trying to argue with me or proof me wrong

and i just ... for one its bc there are people that have told me they like hearing my opinions bc it makes them feel less alone, its validating to hear that i am not alone and i make them feel less alone (this is a big reason)

then theres the thing .. do you feel good never saying your opinion on anything and just keeping everything to yourself? be it big or small, i tried to do that for years, just trying to crawl deeper and deeper into a hole bc clearly i am the problem and should be able to deal with everything on my own, never say anything, i could be annoying, i could be a burden, and it nearly killed me; i have very few friends and i already spam them enough to feel constantly guilty

and if i did that on some private account ... what use is that, thats the same thing as not saying anything, whats the use of saying anything when no one listens, even to select few, whats the point if others cant find it, there might be people i dont know at all that would find solace in hearing my stupid ramblings about games

its true i lack self control and just tend to talk about stuff when i feel the need of talking, but is that really so bad?

correct me if im wrong but i was never of the impression that posting something on the internet automatically means wanting to debate and argue unless you specifically say or initiate it on someone elses post? like thats why i pretty much always make my own post to complain and dont go on other peoples posts of opposing views, id view the latter as an invitation to argue moreso than the former

when i post some stupid opinion (im talking about harmless personal video game opinions mind you) on my own account who am i bothering, if people agree thats great! if they dont they can just move on- i know people love to discuss and share different opinions but the the ones i most often encounter are ones where its a basically trying to start a fight over whos more right (like theres always one correct opinion to have) or just telling me i am not allowed to feel like i feel-

im aware i cant expect everyone to be able to see a differeing opinion and move on without saying anything, but when i say something, unless its specifically a question, i just do it to vent, to let my thoughts out so they dont slowly gnaw at me, maybe find validation in others also thinking like that (i know i cant also expect everyone to think that way .. i just see it as a form of politeness? sorta?); in all honesty, i dont do it to get told opposing opinions (i know thats maybe a little ... idk, selfish i guess?) bc i usually have seen or heard those already and am saying mine bc i havent seen it before or very very little- what i think is often very much not the majority so the need to say something gets greater the more i see somethign i dont agree with, like an urge to balance it? a call to see if i am alone or not? and much less so to argue or debate over something like that, im tired and exhausted at all times, and have often trouble even getting myself to draw, i dont enjoy fights of any kind, and especialyl so when its about something so completely ignorable like a game opinion i only said bc i wanted it out of my head and bc i have seen that the majority seems to be of a different one

like a sticky note on a wall, not an invitation to a political meeting?

maybe this is something i need to work on and get better at, i havent found a way that lets me get rid of my thoughts in a way that doesnt leave me feeling guilty (like spamming my friends) or to gnaw at me (not saying anything, or somewhere no ones gonna hear it)

i know im incapable of shutting up ever (though at least i got a better control over my emotions by now) and i risk accidentally seeming like im inviting people to a fight but i dont know what else to do

maybe its something i horribly missunderstood about the internet, but its my only outlet for that, i dont have anyone IRL to talk to about my interests, maybe its a flaw that needs work, maybe its just a flaw, i dont know :/

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

can i order something with mamezuku?you choose what you want to write with him....I need more of it but there's nothing PLS

maybe I can finally write some headcanons for him. He’s just so blunt it’s not even funny. Great Yandere material of course.

Here’s a little interesting tidbit with him in my mind, Since he can be pretty posseive, he’s a Yandere I can see that will absolutely not share. (Perhaps the smallest exception for Norisuke but even that’s not guaranteed either)

Yandere! Mamezuku Rai

I feel he’s the type if he wants to insert himself into your life he will. He always finds a way to justify things to his benefit. He sees you no different than his other decisions he’s came across in his life.

Literally ignores anyone that you made friends with, he doesn’t really bother to hide it. It’s interesting you keep bringing that up, but he’ll tell you it’s for a good reason. You’re the main one he likes, so he’ll spend time with you not anyone else, you should probably just forget about them.

Mamezuku tends to drag you out somewhere when he sees it fit, (most of the time it’s likely to his orchard). He gets you on that ski lift (during the summer) easy isolation and he’ll show you why he’s the better pick than anyone else. You don’t think he knows what he’s doing? He rejects that notion, you’re safer here than anywhere else. Of course if you point out something of his interest that he might need to consider, he mentally notes it.

It really doesn’t matter if you’re strong headed or more timid, he takes this into account. Often making internal analogies to himself plant wise in just dealing with you. Points out that he’s keeping you away from rot, disease, and insect infestations by isolating you from the rest. Which in turn makes a better harvest of potential romance.

He has a service to provide to the Higashikata family as their plant appraiser, however he does find the extra time to give you the best fruit there is around. Often makes you dishes he somehow knows strikes your fancy, he also seems to like feeding it to you? Don’t try to lie and say you didn’t like something because you’re mad at him either, Mamezuku can tell when your eyes betray your feelings for whatever he gives you.

Somehow he finesses a way to get you into his villa he lives in winter. If you don’t want to be at the ski lift, that way he can properly take care of things, know what you’re eating produce wise, and generally have a sound mind when he’s busy working.

If you’re not moved in with him yet, occasionally he goes through your fridge, tosses out produce/ things that aren’t up to snuff for him and by extension yourself and replaces them with something much better. It’s all on his dime (and he properly disposes of it all) so there’s no real need to complain when he does this.

Overall he doesn’t hesitate in pushing away your friends from you, he’s pretty clever in doing so. There’s an occasional backhanded compliment towards them that he gives, but he makes it certain they are unable to coordinate plans with you by intervening himself, or getting you somewhere that you don’t have cell service.

Interestingly he doesn’t really use doggy style that much, not that Mamezuku won’t of course. He just prefers to use more traditional methods in keeping you away from competition. He doesn’t hesitate in finding a way to harm someone with it in some form, if he feels the need to do so. Or restrain you to something if push comes to shove.

[narcissadeville]

Dream Date | a butch x femme story

It’s almost noon when I leave the house. I almost never go anywhere these days, save to get coffee or food or ever so rarely to browse a store that isn’t online. So I consider this a rare treat. First coffee then, a trip to the bookstore. I’m in search of a specific tome. A book on lesbian nuns of all things, and I suspect the local bookstore might have such a thing. It’s a small enough town, and I happen to live close enough to the town square that I can walk without much trouble so I do. There’s a coffee shop I’ve never been to before on the way according to my phone. Under normal circumstances, I would go to Starbucks as it’s usually the easiest but I figure if it’s on the way I might as well try something new. 

The walk was blessedly short and more importantly, it was a beautiful spring day which meant it was just warm enough to be comfortable but not so much as to be sweltering and therefore unbearable to walk in.

The coffee shop is exactly as I would have imagined upon entering, warm, cozy, inviting, and full of life, mostly plant life.

There are a few people ahead of me, so I have some time to study the menu and get a feel for the sorts of drinks they serve. I tend towards tea on account of the fact that coffee makes me jittery, and I see a tea choice that looks appetizing enough and decide to order that. It’s a spicy chai tea with oat milk that looks absolutely divine. 

I order my drink and make my way over to the other side of the cafe to wait for my drink. There’s light jazz playing over the radio, mixed with the sounds of quiet conversation. There’s a certain ambiance in this place that feels almost dreamy. I’m not sure if it’s the fairy lights, the music, the plants, or just the fact that exists at all but I can’t help but fall just a little bit in love with the place. Someone calls my name and I take my drink gratefully, and make my way toward the door. There’s a part of me that’s tempted to stay longer. It’s comfortable and the atmosphere draws me in like a siren song and I’m tempted. But there’s a book calling my name so I press on instead. I make my way to the door, lost in thought and tea, and I don’t notice that someone else is coming to the door at the same time, and we run smack into each other, our arms colliding. My tea jostles but thankfully only sloshes a little over the lid. 

“Sorry,” I hear a voice say from beside me. I turn towards the sound and almost feel as though my legs might buckle. Easily the most handsome butch I have ever seen in person stands beside me. Looking rather sheepish. They’re wearing a black leather jacket, white t-shirt and black jeans and it’s all I can do not to swoon. Their dark curly hair frames their face perfectly. I’m certain I’m blushing as I stare into the warm pools of their brown eyes. My mouth opens and I attempt to formulate words but all I can manage is the letter I.

After a moment, I regain my composure and say. “Okay,” I feel stupid the moment the words leave my lips, but they don’t seem the least bit bothered by it. They smile and oh I can feel myself blushing again. Their smile is wondrous, and I lose all sense of where I am then and there. Before I know what’s happening, they move and open the door, holding it for me in a sweeping magnanimous gesture that makes me want to blush and giggle and swoon.

“After you,” they say. I blush again and make my way out and back into the street. 

“Thank you,” I reply. They smile again, and we turn in opposite directions. 

I’m still riding the high of our interaction as I walk down the street toward the bookstore sipping my drink. Trees line the sidewalk to my right and shade the sun's rays from me, a fact for which I am most grateful. 

It’s a good drink, but I can’t help but wonder if they’re a regular there. 

Should I start coming back? Maybe I might see them there again? I’m half way down the street from the coffee shop when I remember I was going somewhere, and pull out my phone for the instructions. Thankfully I’m not too far off course. I manage to continue the rest of the walk from the coffee shop to the bookstore. This portion of the trek is longer than I expected and most of it is spent reminiscing over the handsome butch I just met. 

In my own imagination, I am not shy exactly, it’s just that whenever I see someone I consider attractive, I lose all ability to speak in any sort of coherent way. I tell myself that if they are regular and I have more opportunities to see them in the future it might make it easier to work up a rapport. Oh, who am I kidding? Even if they are a regular, I very much doubt they would talk to me. 

After a half an hour of internal monologuing, I reach the bookstore. It’s not a gay bookstore but something about it just feels like it could be. Perhaps it’s just the vibe that all bookstores feel somehow inherently safe to me. 

I’ve always loved books, ever since I was a kid. In those days reading felt like a beautiful escape from a humdrum life, now I was lucky if I could work up the energy to read a few pages at a time. I was hoping a story more suited to me would help. 

The bookshop was a welcome respite from the outside air which was starting to get considerably more sticky as the afternoon wore on. Or perhaps that had simply been from walking there. Either way I was thrilled to be inside an air-conditioned building and a bookstore no less. The smell of ink and paper immediately filled my nostrils and I felt like I was home. 

I had come with a purpose true, but the moment I had arrived I found myself wandering down various isles with no particular purpose in mind. I let my feet carry me in any direction they wanted to, and my eyes sought out any cover or title that looked like it could be interesting. I was so engrossed in my wandering I once more found myself running into a person, this time right into their back. I groaned to myself, embarrassed that I had run into another person twice in the same day. 

“Sorry,” I said. They turned around and I would have gasped; once more the same handsome butch from the coffee shop. What were the odds, I wondered? Surely astronomical. It was a smaller town sure but not so small that it was likely that I’d run into them in this exact same store at this particular time and this isle. 

They smiled, “Well hello again,” they said. There was a casual demeanor to their tone that made me almost feel at ease. Were I not so damn nervous. I smiled, sure I was blushing again. 

“Sorry,” I repeated. 

“Don’t be, I’m glad you bumped into me again.” 

My mouth hung open at that, and I blinked in search of anything intelligent to say, but came up empty. It is worth noting that I am rarely at a loss for words. I would consider myself rather good with words generally, yet here I was, fumbling for anything resembling a sentence. 

“We might want to sit down somewhere, I’d hate for you to run into me and get seriously hurt,” they said. 

At this I simply blushed. Say something, my brain hissed at me. “I might enjoy it if you did,” I said. I cringed at myself, had I really just said that? 

To my surprise however, they laughed. A deep, mirthful laugh that instantly put me at ease. “How about I take you out to lunch first, and see where the afternoon takes us?” 

I blinked, there went my words again. I could hardly believe it, I was actually being asked out, on a date, in person. Was this really how it happened? I had only seen such a thing in films before, I knew I had to respond before they thought I wasn’t interested. 

“I’d love to,” I said. Or at least, I thought that’s what I said. I’m pretty sure what I actually said might have been more of a garbled mess of such a phrase. Fortunately for me, they didn’t seem to care. Instead they smiled and said, “Great. What are you in the mood for?” 

“I’m pretty new to the area I admitted, but I’m down for whatever.”

“Adventurous, I like that in a girl,” they said as we made our way out of the bookshop, all thoughts of the book I had been planning to purchase completely erased from my head. Adventurous, I thought with a laugh. Nothing could be further from me, but I wasn’t about to tell them that. Outside the bookstore, they turned right toward the parking lot with me trailing behind them like a lost kitten. When they finally stopped it was in front of a motorcycle, it was black and if I was honest the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen. They grinned mounting the bike with ease. “You ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle before?” They asked.

I had two choices. I could lie and potentially risk life and limb for a total stranger, or I could tell them I was scared shitless and admit I'd never even seen a motorcycle up close let alone ridden one.

Naturally, I did the only sensible thing I could do. 

“Sure,” I lied trying to mount the bike like they had. The dress I was wearing didn’t exactly lend itself to it, but I didn’t care. As soon as I got on I stared awkwardly at their back. 

“You may want to hold on. She’s got a little kick,” they said. I blinked, not seeing anything to hold onto. I had seen in movies girls holding onto their riding partner, but surely she didn’t mean… the engine roared to life and my heart leaped up to my throat. Without thinking I wrapped my arms around her waist for dear life, burying my face in her leather-clad back. She smelled amazing. A mix of leather, and just a touch of musk and cologne. She revved the engine and we took off together out of the parking lot. 

It wasn’t so bad, I thought to myself. I had calmed down almost immediately, at least that was until we exited the parking lot and the motorcycle shot down the street at what felt like an unreasonably high speed that caused me to wrap my arms around their waist once more, desperately clinging to the only lifeline I had. They didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. In fact, as they took off down the road, making a bit of a sharper-than-necessary turn, I almost got the impression they were trying to show off for me. This thought was short-lived however when the motorcycle’s engine popped suddenly and bucked me. I clenched my thighs to the metal and gripped them so tight I was sure I would have cracked one of their ribs. When we finally reached our destination, a restaurant I had never seen before it was all I could do not to kiss the ground. I felt as though I had been just taken on a wild ride on a stallion. I carefully extricated myself from the bike and they followed suit, smiling at me. Distinctly I got the impression that they knew I had been lying. No one who had ridden on a motorcycle before would have been that terrified. Thankfully they didn’t call me out a fact for which I will be eternally grateful for forever. The two of us made our way towards the restaurant, their hand at the small of my back. It was all I could do not to blush again. When we reached the door, they moved swiftly to open it for me and not a second later their hand was at the small of my back once more. 

It was almost unbelievable how fast they seemed to move. 

They had chosen, a quiet diner where we could chose our own seats, we did, the back of the diner, away from other guests. Ours was a half moon booth, they slid into the middle and I slid in the other side, next to them. Without a second thought they wrapped their arm around me and pulled me close. Were it not for the distinct smell of cooking eggs wafting from the kitchen I would have been certain this was a dream. 

“I hope you don’t mind being so close,” they said. 

“I don’t mind at all,” I replied. How could I possibly? What femme in her right mind would mind? 

“I admit I’m not usually this forward,” they said. “But after I ran into you for the second time in the bookstore I thought you can’t let her get away again.” 

It took everything in me in that moment not to make a self deprecating comment. Not to say something along the lines of, ‘are you sure you’re talking about me?’ I had promised myself I wouldn’t do that anymore. Still I couldn’t quite stop myself from asking. “Oh, why is that?” 

“Well for starters you’re easily the most beautiful femme I’ve ever seen. But besides that… I can’t really explain it.” For a long moment, I had no idea what to say. It’s not that I lack self-confidence per se, but I’m by no means self-absorbed enough or perhaps quite confident enough to call myself the most beautiful femme. Surely this handsome butch has seen many a beautiful femme, I think.

Several years ago, when I was still attempting to date men, I would have assumed this was merely a line to get into bed with me. But this felt incredibly genuine like they really meant it. Unlike with any man, if this was a line, it was going to work. They could have asked me to follow her into a life of crime Bonnie and Clyde style and I would have. Easily. 

“Thank you,” I said thought it felt foolish. They smiled. 

“I’m just being honest,” they said. 

When the server arrived, they ordered for me, another thing I had only ever dreamed of, and they held tight to me for the remainder of our lunch, we talked about everything and nothing, and I still couldn’t get over it. A real date, a date that had come from me doing something different and leaving the house. It felt like a dream, like a fairytale. I was terrified that at any moment I’d wake up back in my bed. 

Only I didn’t. 

Lunch ended, and we went to see a movie, then strolled the park, then went for a late dinner. The day flew by and the next thing I knew it was nearing midnight. Had we really been out all day? I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so comfortable and joyous and just myself, and I was reticent to let the date end. As they dropped me off back at my house and gave me their number, I knew I couldn’t let them go. 

Wrapping my arms around them, I smiled, “You’re welcome to come in,” I said. 

They grinned, giving me a look filled with a multitude of promise. 

“Much as I would love that and I…” they looked me up and down and let out something between a grunt and a moan that sent shivers down my spine, “I would love to. I have a rule about not sleeping with a girl on the first date.” 

It was all I could do not to pout. They must have noticed it too because they smiled and wrapped their arms around my waist. “Can I kiss you?” They asked. 

“You can do a lot more than that if you like,” I replied. 

They laughed and pressed their lips slowly to mine. I gasped, lips parting to give them entrance. I felt their fingers dig into my hips then as they deepened the kiss. Their tongue exploring my mouth. It was all I could do not to moan into the embrace. It was hands down the best kiss of my life. Their lips trailed down from mine, down my chin, towards my neck. I gasped, letting out a moan as they sucked hard onto my throat. My fingers dug into their back. “Please,” I begged. 

“Please what?” They whispered against the flesh of my neck like a prayer. I shivered. 

“Please I need more,” I whined. 

They smiled, pressed their lips to mine once more, and pulled away. “Just needed to mark my spot,” they said. I whined. “Promise we’ll do this again and I’ll make it very worth your while.” 

I shivered at the promise of their words. “I’m holding you to that,” I said. They got onto their motorcycle with a grin, and the last thing I saw was their tail light as they sped off into the night. 

Walking back to my room I wondered briefly if I would ever see them again. Or if this had been just a passing-by-night thing. A once in a lifetime fairytale of an event that had happened miraculously not to be repeated. 

To my great surprise, my phone vibrated and I pulled it out to find a text from them: 

I had a great time today, shall we plan another date for tomorrow? Or later in the week?

I stared at my phone grinning from ear to ear. I could hardly deny to myself it was real now. Shocking though it was. We planned our second date, and as I crawled into bed, exhausted from the long day, I felt all at once as though I was floating on air. 

The date of my dreams with the butch of my dreams, I thought to myself. Holy shit I did it. 

[faelid]

Duality

Changkyun x Reader Summary: Reader on the journey to baby bi. Changkyun is supportive. Warnings (in the interest of fairness): some angst/comfort, commitment-phobia/fear of relationships, caretaker-codependent, gender roles are silly, coming out to boyfriend.

It’s never been too much of a bother, people mistakenly assuming your sexuality. Why should it matter if a guy you wouldn’t sleep with on the first date comforted himself with thinking you were a lesbian? Or if Jane from accounting insisted that your standing lack of a boyfriend meant you liked girls? At the end of the day, it was no one’s business but yours; yours, and the person you were interested in.

It’s nice on paper; to think it that way.

You’d like to be so self-assured in the face of invasive questions into your personal life. The reality is that sometimes, it does it hit home. Long periods of being single make you question whether or not you’re genuinely pursuing other interests, or if all these strangers somehow know something about you that you don’t, something holding you back in the dating department.

The immediate reality, however, was more straightforward: man or woman, the concept of dating was overwhelming.

Juggling another person’s feelings in the balance with your own, knowing the relationship wouldn’t last because you have Things You Want To Do and you don’t want to be beholden to another person.

Trying to gauge when either party developed Feelings, even if it was casual, and having to end it, knowing it’s for your own good but feeling like a terrible person, anyway. The sense of being trapped, the heightened awareness of someone else’s emotions. Always waiting for the shoe to drop.

Not every relationship Has To Go Somewhere. You’ve reminded yourself before, for all the good it does. Your last relationship lasted four years, and looking back, you must have been insane. You’d tried twice to end things, because it made sense when you’d moved apart after graduation, made sense when you realized you didn’t want to move in together out of the blue.

It was harder to end it when things were otherwise fine. He was a genuinely nice guy, if with some flags you may have overlooked. He didn’t understand when you tried to call it off, and you faltered, questioning your own judgement.

And so you stayed.

In the end, he breaks up with you. You cry and he doesn’t. Maybe it’s more a sense of failure than any lingering feelings, because the sobbing makes you feel lighter, and you don’t try to convince him to stay.

Later you’ll understand that you should have stood your ground when the roles were reversed.

That when someone wants to break up with you, the best thing you can do is let them. You wish he’d given you that courtesy, saved both of you years of anxiety and remorse, but here you are.

Overstaying is your specialty. Work. Friendships. A pathological inability to walk away, to say “no.”

It’s like you never learn your lesson. That, more than anything, is what stays your hand. Even as you yearn for physical touch, companionship – a little bit of vitamin D.

The prospect of having twice as many options to disappoint people doesn't exactly propel you into exploration.

It’s exhausting just to think about, let alone pursue. It doesn't stop women from crossing your mind; just that, even feeling men as the only viable option, you're afraid to date.

It makes it all the more amazing that you fall into this thing with Changkyun. It's easy.

He's easy.

He doesn't come on too strong, doesn't bowl you over with enthusiasm.

He listens when you talk; genuinely listens, doesn't just hear what he wants to hear.

He doesn't demand every moment of attention, doesn't need you glued at his side to feel secure with you.

Dating Changkyun is...a relief.

The mutual respect and care is liberating - you have the sense that if you felt the need to separate, he would support you, even if it pained him to let you go.

It's that sense of safety that allows you, eventually, to process those niggling doubts about your preferences.

It's an unremarkable moment, when you're watching netflix together, that reminds you of this unsolved business.

"So, cupcake. What will it be: man...or woman?"

A quick glance at Changkyun's face, still glued to the tv, means he didn't notice the way your heart had just skipped a beat. Watching the flustered love interest in the show stumble through the next few scenes, you have to remind yourself to breathe normally.

You allow yourself to tuck the thought away for later consideration, because you don't need to know right this moment.

It is, in fact, the first you've even processed it as a possibility. And happy as you are in your current relationship, it's deserving of exploration. Even if it's just for you.

Days turn into weeks, checking your reactions to actors and actresses, replaying a backlog of slightly odd interactions with women throughout the years. Monitoring your reactions to women throughout the day.

The longer you think about it, the more natural it feels.

It's not every woman, just like it's never been every man.

But you remember catching eyes with a girl at camp, the 'hot damn' you'd felt and written off as envy, given how cool and effortlessly attractive she was.

Late night Google lets you know that questioning "do I want to be you, or do I just want you" is common when you don't realize you're attracted to women. And maybe, occasionally, it's a little bit of both.

It's not the only time you've felt that way.

It would be false to say that this period of reflection is painless, that one line in a television show caused everything click into place until all was right in the world.

It's...stressful. To fight your internalized bias. To be in a relationship with a man and acknowledge that you could also be in a relationship with a woman - not that you want to, right now.

Just that you could be. If you wanted to.

It’s a secret to no one that Changkyun likes looking pretty - that beyond the stage makeup and the camera glam, he enjoys the chance to press against his boundaries.

Well polished, well manicured nails make him smile, bringing bright spots to dark days.

A dab of power lipstick brings more satisfaction than power underpants, and he revels in the feel of eyes lingering on one of his favorite features.

Accessories – necklace, earrings, watch – give him a sense of fulfillment, bringing any outfit to the next level. The sparkles don’t hurt, either.

It doesn’t make him less of man; no more so than an ability to wield power tools makes you less of a woman.

You've always known that men don’t have the flexibility in self-expression women do, that the gates of masculinity are much more carefully guarded. It's why you've always been advised to 'date someone who toes the line' and not someone too far to either side.

You’ve heard him, and the others, quip “duality” at each other before; you’ve never asked, but understood on an intrinsic level that it referred, in part, to this back and forth, a fluidity in gender expression not afforded to most men. The balance between the attitude, makeup, and accessorizing required by his profession, versus his preference.

His quiet confidence, his ability to reflect and evolve. They're all things you admire about him, on top of the demonstrated attraction.

Maybe that's part of why he's the first person you're willing to trust with this self-discovery, even if it's his reaction you should be most concerned about.

Knowing, deciding to share, is one thing. How to approach it is an entirely other. You spend a few silly hours imagining some grand proclamation, an earth-shattering statement, plotting appropriate moments to reveal something so deeply life-altering.

In the end, it's almost nothing. A side bar to your day.

It happens on impulse one night while you're cooking dinner. Changkyun is sat at the counter with a glass, making idle conversation while he catches up on his internet fix for the day, and it slips out.

Of all the scenarios you considered, it comes out sheepish. Part confused as to how you'd gotten here, part embarrassed that it had taken so long. You could have just as easily been saying "Honey, I think I burnt the bread."

Instead you say, "Babe...I think I might be bi."

He looks up from his phone and blinks a few times, and you rush to fill the sudden silence.

"It's not that I want to date anyone else!" You wring your hands in the apron, searching for something to occupy them. "I'm really happy with you, and I love you. There's no one else, and I'm not trying to see other people, or get freaky and bring someone else into our relationship or anything! It's just...I think I also find women attractive and I wanted you to know." You finish lamely, searching his face for a response.

"Okay." He says, and of course he makes it simple. You echo it back to him, like the word is foreign, and then he smiles and beckons you over.

He looks up at you from his seat, tugging you closer until you're stood between his legs, his hands warm and reassuring on your hips.

"Yes, 'okay'. I trust you." He rocks you gently, like he's cementing the point. "I always trust you. And thank you for telling me."

"It's not weird for you?"

"It could be a little weird, but I'm not worried about it. Just keep me in the loop if you do decide you want to act on any of those feelings, 'kay?"

You feel liberated, afterwards. Like saying it aloud removed a weight from your shoulders, like you've finally given yourself permission to accept it as a part of your identity.

You don't see any need to shout it from the rooftops, or explain it to everyone you know, just like you'd never bothered to explain away not being a lesbian.

It's enough that you know, that your best friend and partner knows, too. That the next time he sees your gaze lingering on a woman, reveling in the ability to do so, he can lean in to whisper:

"She's cute."

"...yeah. Yeah, she is."

His commentary is a welcome reminder, as you adjust, that it's okay to notice, to appreciate, despite not wanting to explore in depth.

Your boyfriend is cool like that.

[bronze-bell]

In all honesty, carrying three glasses of water is an awkward endeavor, when it comes to making sure that everything stays in the hands and the glass, and not in shards on the floor that certainly will have to be dealt with later. Kneeling down on the floor to carefully set everything down before handing the glasses to the others before taking his own, he sipped slowly, cautiously. Observing the other two before him, he makes a mental note for next time: have straws at the ready. Aesop takes a moment before drinking, savoring even the cool sensation of the glass, lowering his mask before drinking. He doesn't bother to lift the mask back up.

The sound of clinking is all Frederick can focus on as he moves the glasses onto the night stand, before he feels his tie, then his arm pulled towards the group as he's still paralyzed, unsure how to belong, how to be a part of the whole. And yet, as his figure slumps around the other two, he feels more whole than he has in years, feeling all too relaxed as he knows Aesop and Victor are embracing him as much as he is them.

As Frederick saw the matter, he had wanted to protect Victor since learning even just a sliver of what he knew now. If Frederick chose to protect, it was because that person or thing was worth protecting. He couldn't let these two fall into the hands of someone he didn't trust. He couldn't let these diamonds be stolen away from him. He was terrified of losing these two now that he had them, he was terrified of letting go and not knowing what could happen. Aching heart and shaking breath accompanied the unsuccessful blinking back of tears. Aesop and Victor were so young, and here he was, having not known what they lived through in the slightest. All he could do now was be someone they could trust.

To think, all this started because Frederick decided to write Victor a letter, and then Aesop walked in on the two, and now all three of them have each other more than they expected. Paper trails, paper chains, paper bonds connected them in lines deeper than what any could reasonably say aloud.

Aesop's smile was imperfect, it was lopsided, tears warm and flowing down his cheeks. But it was so real, as were the people surrounding him in that moment, giving him too much care. If he died in these arms, he would be happy. Even as everything faded, he would know he was surrounded by this adoration. This love. Someone such as him should be tainted, someone who was only allowed to touch those who have already crossed over. And yet, these two didn't care. Moreover, Victor was the same as him. Victor had done what he had. If someone so alike himself was a man he wanted to protect, how could he reject the kindness shown in return, despite how it felt so out of place?

In that circle, everyone falling apart, wiping each other's tears, the group knew safety. The group knew love. The group knew that maybe, as they all leaned on each other and were able to fall apart in each other's arms, things could be all right, that they had somewhere to return.

Victor melts into the touch (somehow further than he already has), letting the entangled thing that they have become breathe as one, letting himself wearily grow lost in the feeling of falling and rising and falling again.

He's been held before, certainly, even without taking into account the whirlwind that was the last two days, but back then he couldn't have dreamed of being loved in a way like this. Not in a way where he feels so complete, so safe, warm from every side so that no part of him will wince at the cold air, even without the alcohol that always accompanied these sorts of things.

He closes his eyes in an attempt to remember those events from years ago, head leaning against someone else's heart in such a way that he can feel the slow beat match and mesh with his own. He tiptoes the line between being asleep and awake as he daydreams (or perhaps, really dreams), half of him cursing how it's much easier to remember with his eyes shut, half of him drowsily excited that he's safe enough to even do that.

His co-workers at the (so-called) post office were rather rowdy, but somewhat amicable if you ignored the part where they could probably ruin his life at any time. However, that combination with the added ingredient of Victor's mannerisms being "amusing", led to them trying to poke and prod at him to get his mask of a Postman to fall.

He never thought at the time it would be anywhere near obvious that touch is the way to his heart, but in hindsight, now that he's a complete puddle in the arms of people he only got close to yesterday, it probably was. However, back then he hadn't been worn down by years of missing the sensation, so he was reluctant to let his composure slip just like that.

However, one bottle of alcohol consumed due to peer pressure later, he was drunk enough to cling to the nearest person he could get his need for touch fed from... And apparently to let out several squeaks and giggles and noises that led to him being considered even more entertaining for them.

Eventually it sort of became a... routine. A distraction from his constant repetition of a life only broken up with watching the light leave somebody's eyes, possibly for the last time. He would be handed some kind of alcohol, and like clockwork he'd drain it, leaving his inhibitions to go down the gutter as the others cooed at him to soothe their nerves in the same way it soothed his.

He doesn't know when they started bringing painful tools into this, but he still has the scars from things like seam rippers tracing down his legs just hard enough to make him fearful. He doesn't remember most of that, though. They were kind enough to submerge his brain in forgetfulness while they did it, only coming out of the dream when the hangover left both his head hurting and whatever else was injured crying for help before he'd even properly woken up.

There's none of that here, though, and the heaviness to his eyes as he lazily flicks them upwards indicates he's probably been asleep. They haven't left him, surprisingly. It's very kind of them. The smile that had dropped while thinking of those memories is put back into place, softer than usual as he nods along to quiet talking he doesn't understand. They seem to know that, because the only response to his movement is a hand running through his hair, lulling him into letting the voices drift through his cotton brain and not trying to decipher them like he usually would.

Perhaps more than just his smile has become softer, here. For the first time since he was a child in his mother's arms, that's alright. There's no need for something like him to be anything else.

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 076 The Final Battle (SSM 78-80)

MASTERPOST

Black Cat's at the hospital. Spider-Man's been given a ultimatum. The Hobgoblin's around. Doc Ock's dangerous. What shall happen henceforth?!

Oh.

Aww.

Felicia says to Spidey that she intends to go straight (HA! Yes, I will keep laughing about this), and then...

Aww this is really cute.

DeWolff put a lot of cops there to protect Black Cat. Spidey asks them to be careful, then a cop asks DeWolff who he is to order them around, to which she replies: "He's New York's finest."

Damn right.

Peter goes back to the Bugle, thinking he doesn't have much money left, even though by all accounts he absolutely should since Robbie gave him a nice lump of money very recently. Continuity...? Oh well. At least, that means I get to see Peter's handsome face more <3

Peter's becoming pretty pissed off about Jameson's treatment of him, and he says "My photos are good, and I know it!"

Good for him. He even takes a cab all the way to ESU. Oooh, he's angry. I love that.

We get the obligatory one-panel cameo of Peter's colleagues. He asks if the results have been posted yet (honey it's been one day) and when Dr Sloan says "you think you have a chance, bitch?", Peter answers "actually yes I do, because I'm gonna be a great motherfucking physician one day!". This is an exact, word-by-word transcription of their exchange. (I may have added a few insults.)

Peter's actually had it with university. I completely get it. I had that breakdown a few times into my uni years, but particularly when I came back from abroad and had to redo the year and found out my classes in my mother country were infinitely more boring, uninteresting than the past year. I ended up going to maybe 15% of the classes, got my diploma, and got the hell out of there because I just could not be bothered anymore (there were added circumstances but you're not here for my life story, however fascinating it is).

So I completely get it. I don't think Peter's going to go in that direction, however. It's sort of painted as a consequence of his feelings for Felicia. He even considers telling her his secret identity! I know how that one goes, but like, yeah, Peter, you really need to.

Meanwhile, Doc Ock's "stronger than ever" (groundbreaking) and destroys sewer people. Somewhere else, Boomerang (???) and the Punisher (?????????) are in prison.

Yessssss! We love to see them.

I was going to beg the writer to let Peter chill out with his friends, but thankfully that wasn't necessary. Hey, remember when he hung out with them at the Coffee Bean and whatnot? Where he didn't constantly excuse himself and at least had *some* social life?

At a Thai restaurant, Peter toasts to friendship.

Oooooh this is great. Peter goes to see May and hugs her, then gives her money and says goodbye to her and Nathan. He then says that "he's said goodbye to everyone who means anything to him". Uh... Where's MJ, Pete?

Back at the hospital, Spidey's ready to reveal his secret identity to Black Cat, who understood that Doc Ock's coming back, but she stops him. Not here. Not now. Besides, she likes her men mysterious.

Well, that doesn't bode well for the future, does it, Peter?

Then Ock arrives.

I'm confused, but also amused. Why in the hell would Boomerang even matter hahaha

I thought that was a great issue.

Right as #79 starts...

What an opening. If there's one thing I appreciate with Ock battles, it's the various perspectives we get.

We also get...

...this. That's a funny gag.

The action scene is outstanding, and DeWolff tries her very best to get Felicia away from them.

...

GIRL. Gosh, she's very lovable. Thankfully, Spidey catches her.

And Spidey wins.

He's a bit of a shonen hero. The corny lines can stay.

What's next?

Uh-huh.

Jameson thinks he needs to prove to Marla that he's still a capable man, so he wants a good story.

God he's so hot...

Ahem.

This issue is fun, Jameson investigates, he notably makes a deal with the Kingpin (which closes that Ben Urich storyline rather smartly) and keeps getting saved by Spider-Man without noticing it (until the end, where he understands).

This is oddly heartwarming.

This, on the other hand, is... complicated. Not sure what I should take from that. It's ironic, but aside from that?

In the letters, "verde" finds that they don't like Peter Parker anymore, and their argument is extremely fair. Bill Mantlo seems taken aback. I'm certainly not.

Still, an interesting issue I guess.

[youaremysunshiness]

entry #14

i don’t understand how people form friendships with other people, become really close to them, and then don’t know how to talk to them when they are going through a hard time. i understand that not everyone is comfortable with dealing with vulnerability but it is very painful and difficult to deal with when you are the one struggling. it also is painful when you show your shadow side to someone (because everyone has a shadow) and they judge you for it. i think that’s especially painful because i love people so unconditionally and i sadly discovered that my friends don’t love me in that way. i treat my friends like family and i have seen their flaws, their demons, their lies, and i still loved them despite all of it. i never judged them for it and i always encouraged them to be better. i always listened to their feelings with an open heart and mind when they had a problem, and they stab me in the back. for example, J going to K and L after i poured my heart out to him and made it into drama. i poured out my heart to K and L about Lucifer so many times only for them to go to his party.

I loved them despite all the horrible stuff they did to me. I forgave all the lies, the shittalking, the cliquey attitudes. I created an instagram community where people in our class could uplift and support each other by submitting their creative work. it was my idea and i shared it with them out of love. i wanted to collaborate and then they don’t put any effort in the community and as soon as i removed the account, they make another one. different name but with my idea. they never asked permission to use my idea and they never bothered to include me in it either. i gave them so much only for them to take from me. i loved them at their worst and they couldn’t bother to do the same for me. i gave and i gave and i gave, and barely received anything. no wonder i felt myself spiraling before i understood what the problem was.

negative energies and lack of reciprocation in any kind of relationship can really drain your energy and leave you feeling depleted and anxious. for most of this semester, i found myself feeling anxious or depressed for no reason. i didn’t normally feel like my happy self and i thought maybe it was just the stress of school getting to me. i was starting to have mental breakdowns and i just couldn’t understand what was wrong until everything came to a head and i went back to therapy. my body knew these people were toxic way before my mind did, and i realized that just how much i was ignoring and dealing with when i started living at home again. i was constantly around the negative energy and i no longer had any peace. i forgot what peace was until i took a breather from that group. i’m not saying that they are bad people, it’s just that they are not at a phase in their life where they can honestly look at themselves and see what they need to change, and that’s okay, they will grow in their own time, but i do not have to bear the brunt of most of it anymore. i guess i’m just moving on to somewhere else and letting go of what i thought our friendship was. for so long, i wanted to believe these people were my soul family, but you can’t force something to fit when it doesn’t. maybe this is for the best. maybe this is a lesson i need to learn, that i should be more discerning and not so trusting. i guess i just wear my heart outside of my body and i get emotionally attached to people quickly and in the past i have over shared when it comes to my personal life and that has gotten me in some trouble. not everyone can be trusted.

i love being friends with everyone. i love people, but trust is earned. not given, and i think i have given people my trust too quickly (in friendships at least) in the past. i love to give love to people and i wont stop being friendly and open to others, but i definitely could have better boundaries about who i let into my heart because a lot of people have mishandled it.

[thelonewarriorprince]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Roleplay Starter (open to anyone!)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎┏━✦❘༻꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱༺❘✦━━┓

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎his Legacy.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ┗━✦❘༻꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱༺❘✦━━┛

༻❘The streets of West City are what most consider dangerous. There’s pushing and shoving going on at just about every corner, a result of overpopulation. These people try to push through large crowds to get to their destinations, Wether that be work or somewhere else, he didn’t care. It’s not his business to give a damn. This issue paired with crime sprees never seem to reach an end despite the police force’s best efforts. These problems bothered his mother, Bulma Leigh, so much that she constantly reminded him to be careful when he trudged through the city on his own. He listens to her, as an obedient son would, though questions to himself why should he be so cautious? Nobody has ever posed a threat to him before because of the very strength his ancestor had lended him and he never goes out of his way to cause commotion or draw attention to himself because when outside of battle, he is inherently shy in nature. As funny as that may sound, given his confidence, judgmental jabs and cockiness while fighting his opponents.

He wondered if his ancestor would view him as weak for being shyer. It troubled Junior to hear the in family legends floating around about how easily and harsh Vegeta’s views were when he casted them down upon people. His opinions typically did not change, if he recalled what Bulma Leigh told him, unless you were the right kind of person but what did that mean? Is this even true? Or are these just misinterpretations like old legends typically are? Junior nervously bit down on his lip, he’s overthinking everything again and is launching himself into paranoia in a place where he shouldn’t be doing that. His onyx eyes steady themselves straight ahead, focusing on the passing civilians and moving to avoid making contact with them as they rushed around. Maybe pure concentration on his environment will ward off his anxieties about this legacy he inevitably believes he can’t uphold or is failing in some way.

It’s stupid to assume such things from unreliable accounts of who Vegeta was anyways, it’s not like his mother was there to see everything unfold in person, therefore it wouldn’t make much sense to rely upon her for accurate information. This very fact he acknowledged and made sure to repeat to himself once more as he focuses on crossing the road.༺❘

[awiola]

Super late mass update

And the title rhymes.

While I don't suppose a lot of people will read this, I'm pretty much dead everywhere besides discord at the moment [and even there I plan on taking a break] so a, belated, update is in order.

At this point my bird app account is pretty much abandoned and I don't wish to bother with reviving it at all so it's just waiting to rot and disappear, hopefully forever. There wasn't a lot of stuff there to begin with. Unless I decide to move somewhere else, tumblr will be my main platform of contact with people that don't share servers with me. Though I think I'll try my hand at a side art blog…

Anyway, this is a dev update so let's focus on games. Within the months of my inactivity and total radio silence here, a few games were created. Considering I have no idea how far back it should go, I'll start with my bird jam entry that I was a terrible lead for.

BIRD GAME

My total inability to assume responsibilities of my own work aside, the team did their job well. The actual story is finished and working and the only reason why the build has its current name is because I never went around to finish the GUI and the last CG properly and then disappeared for months due to personal reasons. As it stands, the story lacks nothing to enjoy it mostly as it was intended, though I may finally move my ass and update it. Just not now.

After that I took part in the creation of two projects for the queer edition of O2A2. One being a sequel of sorts to Annur's story, featuring Azazel. The other a very rushed personal project. Rushed only because I felt like making it at the moment and its quality only confirms that.

I won't really say much about either of them as due to the nature of the jam, they're naturally very short. I think both have around 700 words each? It would be cool if you checked Azazel out, though. That 'saga' might eventually get a third part. It's also pretty different from Annur's story, less horny and with a different artstyle… Or maybe just medium.

The newest creation is my submission to Orifice jam. Despite how it might sound, or maybe exactly because of that, the entries [planned ones included] are pretty cool. Not a lot of them at the moment of writing this post, though.

Both here and in my O2A2 short I decided to use the style that comes the most naturally to me. Maybe it wasn't a good idea, it's pretty avant garde and bizarro leaning, if I say so, though at the same time pretty normal and grounded. But those are my standards of normal, don't trust them. They're also chock-full of reference, although this time, based on the previous feedback, I tried explaining the most important ones. Everything else is still a bonus most likely no one would get. I just can't stop myself.

After that comes Mushroom jam which I'd recommend to join if you have even the slightest interest in the topic. It starts in september [technically august in almost all time zones] and is supposed to be as crunch free as possible, lasting three months and all. You can read the details on the page. It's a spiritual successor of Bird Jam and in a way OH jam as I ended up hosting a jam each year, always with a different theme, and plan to continue doing so, even if there ends up being close to no interest.

This also relates to my planned projects. As of now there are two main ones, one that I help with and is still a secret, two-three that I'd either finish someday or not and multiple "maybe if I get inspired to actually write" ones. Generally as long as it's written by me, it's likely to be on an unpopular topic or written in a way most people don't seem to like but as I have the most funn with these, well ¯_(ツ)_/¯ No one pays me for that, might as well.

Since there's no reason to disclose anything on the "maybe" category projects and the secret one, let's focus on the two main ones and these that probably should get finished.

Going by the chronology of planned releases, the first would be a some sort of SF story for sunofes playing with the idea of Agartha, Wanderers etc. I can't even promise what kind of mood it would have but given my lack of science skills, it would be closer to soft SF, if that's even a term that's used. Think analogous to soft fantasy but SF. Probably "interactive fiction" [actually kinetic, no choices, linear] with illustrations more so than vn as I wanted to write something longer than usual that's still moderately low effort. Not getting the urge to create custom gui really lessens the workload~~

The other project is for Spooktober, Mushroom jam or both. I kind of feel like it would be cheating, given the insignificant amount of fungi in the story but we'll see. Due to Spooktober rules, it's still in planning stage, though I'm starting design sketches. No idea if I manage to pull it off but I wanted to try something different style wise, with isometric view that changes depending on MC's mental state. It's honestly a lot of work for one person so I'm not even deluding myself I'll finish it for Spooktober, it would be just free exposure at this point :') Especially important as the SEO is going to be absolutely terrible and horrendous, being a yet another reference [created from two of my ideas that mutated and merged]. At least the non game results would explain what exactly was I referencing lol

If I actually manage to pull it off, it's gonna be the coolest looking of all my personal projects. Not that there's strong competition but still. Hope it works out.

From the stuff to finish, there's the above-mentioned bird game, Argousze and Red String Theory. RST's development doesn't exactly rely on my so it either remains a demo or the whole team gathers again to finish it. In the meantime I can draw my pretty boi Adisa whenever I want. As for Argousze, it's been close to three or four years since its initial release. I feel like I should finish it eventually, being ad short as it is but I kind of dislike the ending of the initial idea + had problems with designing aliens I liked so it either changes or gets a sequel/part with alien's pov as comparison, not sure yet. The pov change would have a completely different tone but would help me with my SoL sentai later on and as such requires further consideration. Hopefully it's finished before the fifth release anniversary passes.

Other than that there's some art etc related stuff going on but as it's not strictly dev related, I'll omit it. The whole post ended up quite long, as expected but that's what happens when you update people once a year. See you[?] next time.

[tempvelope]

THE AUDIO STARTS AND SKIPS TO A PORTION OF AN INTERVIEW.

INTERVIEWER: ...You said you lived here all your life?

PARTICIPANT: Wasn't born here, but sure— been around long enough. Nowhere to go, and I don't know nowhere else. Wouldn't call it sweet home, but it's the only address I got.

INTERVIEWER: I see... and how would you describe the people here?

PARTICIPANT: I dunno. I mean I got neighbors an' all but...

PARTICIPANT HESITATES. TRANSCRIPT CONTINUES:

INTERVIEWER: But?

PARTICIPANT: They're only neighbors 'cause they live next to mines. It's like... them and God.

INTERVIEWER: What exactly about "them" and God?

PARTICIPANT: You know how there's a sense to everythin'? Sense as in way things should be. Day and night. A mother and her children. The hive and honey... An unnerstandin' that doesn't need explain-nation— Like a...a door, it opens 'cause there's a hinge, but you don't need to know there's a hinge. You just need to know it opens and closes. Like me and them... they're neighbors only 'cause they're next door or across.

INTERVIEWER: And God?

PARTICIPANT: Y'know, Mr. [ REDACTED ], the first people you learn about anywhere are God-botherers. Believe me, I would know, and it's an aggrieved knowin'. 'Specially here. My neighbors aren't all God botherin', but God mindin' all the same. But there's a difference, and even then I'm not so sure anymore...

INTERVIEWER: Of what?

PARTICIPANT: God-botherers are unnerstandable, to be disturbed by that means somethin' about yourself. Either you're angry at them, yourself, or God, or all three, but no one wants to admit that about God. Y'know— y'aint allowed to be. Be angry at God, I mean. But whether you admit that or not, everyone's got a per-so-nal surety of God in some way. What kind don't matter, but everyone's got...—

INTERVIEWER: A conception of some kind.

PARTICIPANT: Sure. That works. So like I said...the sense of unnerstandin'...mother and children..the hive... With them and God, how do I put it... there's no sense. I'm not talkin' on account of denominations either — there's enough churches in town — hard enough to make sects between God botherin', God mindin', God fearin', God...knowin'. Y'should've been around when they was arguin' about that prophet statue, at some point I don't think it was even about the prophet anymore. Anyway...

Listen, I don't know much about God other than if I still prayed, I figure it'll go somewhere, maybe under a bigger door, answered or not. Like how I know there's a hinge even if I forget it when I close a door. But with these folks... it's not any kind of knowin', even with all that fear...

MEMBER SEARCH: Howdy! We are currently searching for three members to join a closed, invite only, Tumblr based OC writing group. The plot is set in a fictional small town in east Texas and primarily has themes of the southern gothic and supernatural with some ongoing elements of crime. This group is 21+ only. Interested or curious? Like this post and we'll IM you or feel free to message us here yourself! Please refer to our pinned post beforehand.

[bcnes-archived]

Does he? He considers it for half a second, thinks about the countless jokes they've exchanged over the years and then decides that no, he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't. Kirk is a lot of things, but he isn't cruel, and he's not risking this many years of friendship just to get a reaction out of McCoy. Besides, the man's clear stress throughout the duration of this conversation makes complete sense suddenly.

So it's not a joke. McCoy lingers on that thought for a while and in his head he flips through his well-worn personal dictionary to the word love, underneath which is a three-page bulleted list of reasons not to bother, historical evidence that says he's not very good at it and that it hurts. It hurts other people and it hurts him, and McCoy is so goddamn sick and tired of all the pain he has to see day in and day out. He reaches back and searches for the next page, the well-worn feeling that his personal reminders on love usually warrant: dread. Abject terror. Miserable, lonely resignation.

It isn't there.

Which is weird, because by all accounts it should be. Hello, he prods at his own head. Can we get our act together, here? We're going to fuck this all up. But instead of the plan of action he is hoping to hear from himself ( step one; apologize, be gentle but firm, tell him that it's just a bad idea and he deserves someone a little better for him ) he finds a voice that sounds very oddly like Jim Kirk ( and who the hell invited him in here, anyway ), which says no you're not. Of course you're not.

It's right. Of course he isn't.

It is Jim Kirk. He's sitting in front of him with relief on his face and a slope to his shoulders that McCoy hasn't seen in years, at least since before he got handed command of a Starship and took the lives of 400-something people into his hands. Jim Kirk has seen him at the lowest points of his life. He has seen him at his absolute worst and at his very best and knows that in-between there, somewhere in the middle, there is something honest and true, and - somehow - he loves that. Even if the honest part is still covered in barbs, a little too mean sometimes and prone to complain and say things he doesn't mean ( usually in the same breath ). It is also often wound-up, and occasionally paranoid, and so constantly, nauseatingly emotional that it's no wonder Spock can't put up with him ( and yet decides to continue putting up with him regardless; how's that for logic ). That anybody has seen that much and still stuck around says something, and Leonard interprets it as this one fact: he is not going to be able to shake James T. Kirk in this lifetime.

He realizes that he's been sitting there in silence for a while too long, staring at their hands, thinking about Jim and then about Spock and about the two of them seeing every inch of his psyche and not flinching at it, and then he thinks that maybe this was the obvious conclusion all along. It feels that way now, like there was nowhere else they could have gone; and maybe that, too, is why it isn't frightening.

McCoy lifts his gaze to meet Jim's, and reaches out a hand and pinches the captain's arm, hard. "Lucky!" He sounds incredulous. "You're a damn fool is what you are - god, Jim, why didn't you ever say anything? Do you have any idea how long—" he stops abruptly because the same exact question could be leveled back at McCoy and the answer is probably the same. Instead he says: "all this time and you had the gall to only bring two bottles of whiskey."

As he sits there , staring at one of the men he wishes to spend the rest of his life with , he finally realizes truly how big the difference is. Why this is so hard for him. There will always be attractive people inhabiting every planet they visit , every place they stop. And it's easy for Kirk to believe he's in love with them. Maybe it's to make sure the Enterprise can get back to safety , or maybe it's because he genuinely believes he's in love. But none of them know him nearly as well as Bones or Spock do. In none of them has he confided his fears , his deepest desires . . in none of them could he trust his life - not like he could them. It was as if Kirk had known the two his entire life , and he'd like to know them deeper for the rest of it.

He falls quiet as Bones questions it , hearing the word ring out in the now deafening silence of the room. Instead of verbally confirming , he simply nods - knee starting to bounce up and down to account for the fact that his hands were already occupied. Seeing the disbelief written on his face makes his eyebrows furrow , making him wonder if this really was the right decision to make. If their fingers weren't still yet intertwined , it probably would've been Kirk who took the opportunity to run out of the room.

❛ Now , Bones , do you think I would joke about something like th - ❜ His eyes widen as he lunges at him , and he backs up slightly. However , he doesn't make any attempt to pull away. His eyebrows furrow even deeper as he looks into McCoy's eyes , trying to gauge what exactly it is he was trying to get at with this. When he finally lets go , his gaze flicks down to the man's hands for a moment , before it turns back up to his face. ❛ . . You really thought I wasn't ? ❜ He asks softly , his earnest smile curling back onto his lips.

The look in Kirk's eyes is what gives him away most of all , his hazel eyes shimmer with adoration for the doctor. As their hands intertwine again , his smile grows even wider. The bright smile on Bones' face almost takes him off guard - but that soft whisper is enough. Shoulders heave with a sigh of relief , and he scoots just a bit closer to him. ❛ Of course I am. And , by the sound of it - I'm one lucky guy. ❜

[imagine--if]

E. Nashton

A/N: Here you go, I promised, I hope you like it 😅💚 I think I'll do a part two of him confessing later, maybe disguising himself as The Riddler cus he's still a little shy 🥺️

Words: 1069

Everyone at work is the same. Quite loud and obnoxious, money-makers, party-goers, busy professionals. As professional as you can get in a city like Gotham, anyway. You just wanted to make enough money to have as easy a life as you could bargain for in this place, or maybe save up to move somewhere else. For now, though, you're stuck in the same office building, checking over the same papers sent up by the forensics accountants team downstairs.

But there's one employee down there who's just as quiet and polite as you try to be. You probably wouldn't have noticed him, just like his peers, if it wasn't for seeing his name signed in a rather odd style of handwriting at the top of a folder of pages full of numbers.

"Might be something to do with money laundering, I reckon," Zach tells you with a proud smirk, the man who sends the files up. "It's a good job we caught it, right?"

"Yeah, it's really good," you respond with a grateful smile, flipping through the pages absentmindedly. Your thumb stops under a top corner, and you study it, noticing the name. E. Nashton.

"And... this is your work?" you ask him with a slightly raised brow, Zach shrugging in answer.

"Well. No. The, uh, one of the guys did some of it, but I brought it to the team's attention and all. Obviously."

"Yeah, nice work, Zach," you agree, which does the trick, and he leaves smugly, going back downstairs and saying something to a man who seems startled when Zach thumps him a couple of times on the shoulder, in a friendly sort of way. You watch in interest, wondering if it's the E. Nashton written on these papers. Clear-framed glasses are pushed up the man's nose, and curious green eyes peer from behind them, delicate strands of sandy brown hair framing his round face. The face that looks defeated and mildly frustrated by the time Zach's left.

You frown to yourself, glancing at the work that's ordered perfectly and ready to send to your boss. No one else here puts the same level of effort into their work. Zach's probably told the poor guy that he's gotten all the credit. Maybe you could talk to him? It's just a word of encouragement from a colleague, right?

As everyone finishes their projects at the end of the day, you grab your things and head downstairs, weaving your way between people pushing at doors to get home. You only just catch the man you'd seen earlier, tapping him gingerly on the shoulder. But even that seems to surprise him, and he flinches, whirling round to face you with a wide-eyed expression. His cheeks flush when his eyes take you in properly, but you don't notice, apologising awkwardly.

"Hi- oh, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright," he breathes, scarcely blinking, and you nod slowly at the reaction.

"Um, okay, well, I just wanted to thank you for the work that went up. It was all written really clearly, and I don't think I'll have to do much before it's sent off. It's nice to see someone putting more than the bare minimum in what they do, I guess. Kind of makes my job a bit easier, too."

Edward looks at the folder in your hands, then back up at you.

"I thought... Zach said-"

"Yeah, I know he sent it up and commissioned the work, that's... great," you say, not bothering to hide the slight tone of sarcasm, and a fond smile tugs at Edward's lips in response. "But you did it. So, thanks."

"W-well... you're most welcome," Edward says happily, almost giddily, and you smile back in amusement.

"Cool. It was nice talking to you. Edward?"

He nods quickly. "Yes, I- I'm Edward."

You reply with your name and a half-smile, Edward repeating it like it's something fascinating. You observe him for a moment; a little odd, but kind of sweet. You should have spoken to him sooner.

"See you around, then."

He seems somewhat disappointed as you take a step back, your hand lingering on the doorhandle that leads outside, but says goodbye anyway with a small smile and a watchful stare. You look away first, going off in the direction of your home, the interaction replaying in your head vaguely as you let yourself into your apartment.

Nice guy. There aren't many people like that in Gotham. Maybe you could chat again soon?

And then the thought's replaced with the next thing that nags for your attention.

...

Meanwhile, a man goes mad behind his laptop.

Square pictures are pulled up onto the screen from various social media sites, and Ed can't help but smile back at your naturally happy expressions in every one. It seemed so easy for everyone to be so happy and carefree. He wasn't everyone.

But then, neither were you.

Someone noticed him. No one ever notices him. And his boss was so quick to dismiss the scheme he had bought up, practically threatening his job for poking his nose in. Zach just likes every bit of praise he can get, and he gets far too much of it. But not this time. For once, somebody praised him. You praised him.

"You're so lovely," he whispers adoringly into the solitude of his apartment, the blue-white glare of the laptop reflecting in his glasses.

A part of Edward finds himself such a creep, so disgusting and wrong and alone, especially for stalking a pretty young workmate he'd only met half an hour ago. But no one ever spoke to him unless they had to. You didn't have to. But there you were, bright eyes and sweet words, appreciating justice as much as he does, and not letting the darker cases go like any corrupt citizen would.

He'd keep watching. He'd give it, what, a week or two? Just to be sure he wasn't mistaken, though he was almost certain he wasn't. That you really were some sort of beacon that stood out to him, company he liked at work, could fantasize clearly about at home. And then...

Then what? Blurt it out to you? Scare you off? No. Too risky. He could almost hear the pity and confusion in your voice with a rejection. E. Nashton was nearly as confident and important as he wanted to be...

...but The Riddler was.

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[1kook]

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.  warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.  

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.  

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?” 

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.  

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence. 

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[bonny-kookoo]

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

[snow-system-wol]

The full account of those few minutes while Fray and Zenos were alone after the battle.

(significant tw in the flashback below cut for graphic violence and very heavily implied CSA. Nothing actually happens here though.)

They liked to think that becoming one person with Fray had taught them how to be more restrained with their violence, with how low the bar had been before. Any measure of control Fray had afforded them through their joining had left long before their battle was finally done, though. If Zenos had asked for a beast, he was damn well getting one.

The moment they and Zenos were back on that rooftop, petals slowly settling to the ground, Fray throws their body at Zenos with reckless fury. It's a testament to his exhaustion after being defeated that someone smaller than him can completely knock him down  like this. They pin him down, and they hate him so much. They hate the obvious thrill and delight running through him, they hate the empire that created this man, and they hate that even now this is exactly what he expects.

A snarl rips itself from their throat and they lunge for his neck. There is just enough skin exposed by his armor for them to be able to manage, and even more access if they wrench his pauldron to the side. The nectar sweet smell of flowers inches from their face fills their nose and teeth meet skin and sink in with familiar resistance.

Perhaps, it is too familiar a feeling, as they are suddenly somewhere else.

  ----------

You don't know why you're here, specifically you. You were not made to handle these situations, but perhaps you're here because somehow you knew this was going to be the end. He huffs. "I'm getting old, these bones need rest. You do the work." He loosely gestures for you to climb atop him. Revulsion crawls in you, but you approach dutifully and then he gets so very careless. The moment you start to straddle him, he completely takes his eyes off you and drops his head back into the pillows.

Gods, is he an idiot? Does he think he actually tamed you? He should know better than to show his throat to a hungry animal.

You lunge before he has time to realize his mistake. Your teeth are buried in his neck and your body is weak but your bite is strong. You jerk your head to the side with as much force as you can, and you feel flesh tear. Not enough, not yet. You spit out what you've managed to rip loose from him. You don't bother trying to muffle him. Wasn't it him who told his housestaff to not worry about what happens behind closed doors? Let him lie in the grave he dug.

You dig deeper into the wound you've made, fighting through the resistance of tendons and muscle. His hands grab uselessly at your hair. Maybe if he was still keeping you collared he'd have enough leverage to pull you away, to choke you until you're forced to let go. A pity for him that he didn't. Deeper into his neck, wrenching away as much as you can reach.

You know immediately that you've managed to sever something terribly important when you are suddenly choking on blood. You pull back and the blood splashing on your skin is shockingly warm, warmer than anything else in this godsforsaken place, and he's already stopped fighting you in favor of going into shock.

It is cathartic to realize that even if someone came to help him right now, it's already too late. He's rapidly bleeding out and you are content to sit back and watch. It doesn't take long.

You realize then, that you are covered in blood and naked, and that it is below freezing outside, and that are you are finally free to leave but more importantly you have to leave, you have to leave right now.

 ----------

Fray scrambles off of Zenos in disgust, only the smallest smears of blood present where they'd bitten him. They make a valiant effort towards not dry heaving into the flowers.

"I thought that was your modus operandi. Can't do it again?"

Fray wants to glare at him, but they're still trying to get back into their body and stop feeling weak. 

"I did look into you, interesting prey that you were. Imagine my surprise when I actually found something. S'ria, a miqo'te refugee in Garlemald itself, wanted for accusations of fratricide. A man of some renown, savaged so wildly that they thought at first an animal had done it, until they realized his ward was missing."

Fray turns their head at that. Zenos had managed to get himself upright and meets their gaze evenly.

"They called it fratricide?" There's something raw in their voice that they would rather not being showing him, but it's impossible to stifle.

"Under the eyes of the law, he'd adopted you into his household. Unless perhaps they'd meant as a pet. Not a very well trained one, it would seem."

Fray growls low in their throat. "Presuming your safety around an animal is the fault of the owner, not the pet."

"Isn't that half the thrill? Why temper base instincts and feral urges when you can encourage them?"

Comprehension hits Fray abruptly enough through the layers of cryptic speech that they lean away from Zenos with a grimace. "Wait, you want me to do it. You actually want me to maul you to death now that you've lost to me." Fray doesn't think they've ever laughed before, but they feel a hysteria welling up in them now.

Zenos tilts his head defiantly, showing the shallow bite mark that's already been left there. "You understand the way of things. The Hunt has been turned around on me and I have become the prey -- this is the only logical way for it to end. Pray, feel no need to stop at my throat. Tear me to shreds, if it suits you." He sounds concerningly enthralled with the idea.

"... you've made killing you extremely unappealing. You arrogant bastard, if you want something from me, I will deny you the satisfaction of ever getting it."

The anticipation Fray could see buzzing through Zenos' frame drops away and they see his face twist in disappointment. His face smooths back to neutral and he reaches for his katana. "If I must, very well."

Despite their refusal to particate in his death, some of Zenos' blood ends up on Fray's face anyway and it feels very petty of him. Of course he'd find a way to bother them even while killing himself.

They make note of Lyse's presence behind them and choose not to question how long she'd been here. No part of these last several minutes would've been appealing to watch, they're sure, and they'd rather not know what she heard.

Okay so let's get into this a bit.

This is a point where canon and snowverse diverge, even though we usually keep them fairly in sync: Fray (as that's still who this is right now) and Zenos are alone for at least another minute or two before Lyse shows up, immediately followed by the rest.

(As far as those few minutes -- I don't think we ever cross-posted that story here, but we will in a reblof with warnings.)

About the rest of this scene (TW for suicide)

Aside from Zenos having the audacity to call him that -- unlike Lyse, Fray is completely fine with this. They want Zenos dead and have already established that killing the man himself would be indulging him. So, this is the best outcome.

They shall not deny -- there IS an appeal to subjecting Zenos to the utter boredom of a life behind bars. They just don't think he'd be contained.

Fray isn't S'ria, though. He comes back a bit fuzzily, not just snapping into place but.

Even before Lyse explains what'd just happened to the others, it's not difficult to put the pieces together. He'd honestly expected Zenos to be dead by HIS hand, the way he'd allegedly "fought him like a man possessed" the first time they met, so for Zenos to have killed himself is a ... Surprise.

S'ria is at least not surprised to have lost time. He'd known it was likely, especially after he'd finally spoken with Lyse about not remembering things and what had happened at Rhalgr's Reach. It is still ... Very unnerving for him, and he doesn't understand what is happening to him.

But at least it's over