#my friend also says Writing Electrocution is a big thing with him

[rukafais]

I always get irrationally annoyed when people talk about drizzt and inevitably someone is like "ho ho Menzoberranzan is like that because the author is HORNY for WOMEN TO STEP ON HIM!" and its like...

the worldbuilding spends a lot more time going into how horrifying the indoctrination is and how it's a nightmare hotbox of a cult, you can't just say that it's horny because there are women with whips involved, the text isn't lovingly lingering on them and taking any excuse to get dudes whipped, that's what would make it horny. Menzo is drow matrons bullying each other for power and station, like Real Housewives with extra disemboweling.

If the author is horny for anything it's for fights and textually beautiful men trying to stab the shit out of each other while shouting about moral ideology, because that sure happens way more often at much less prompting

[bunthebreadboy]

i saw a fanart on pinterest when i decided to change my entire phone theme and i can’t get it out of my head.

the art was just after the zuko and ozai agni kai. zuko was knocked out, iroh was getting ready to take him and leave, and azula just came in and said “i took care of it”. if anyone knows what i’m talking about and has it saved or knows the og artist pls lmk!!

anyways. it got me thinking about an expansion of this au (that i will never write because i have neither the patience nor the time to do that) that (unsurprisingly) results in disasterlesbian!azula

so hear me out on this one. there would need to be an entire plot. like. what’s aang going to do??

azula killed ozai by electrocuting him. it’s the first time she discovers her lightning bending. it looks like he had a heart attack in his sleep. (don’t get too wrapped up in the details. azula’s a prodigy she can be overpowered for a bit)

why did she kill her dad? she’ll swear up and down that it was because “he really should have picked on someone with a better fighting ability than zuzu. honestly, it’s stupid he didn’t lose his honor after frying my pathetic firebender of a brother to a crisp.” it’s actually because she kind of sort of loves zuko. she will NEVER admit that.

iroh becomes fire lord, albeit a bit reluctantly. he spends the next three years attempting to end the war, stop the spread of propaganda in the fire nation, and deal with his niece and nephew bickering all the time.

so aang comes out of the iceberg. meets katara and sokka. katara convinces him to take her to the north pole because he’s the avatar, he still should probably master all four elements war or not. all of the traveling is the same (except zuko chasing them) until they get to omashu and king bumi is like “what’s up my dude, welcome back. we’re recovering from a war, so you should probably learn politics and how to not offend anyone while you master the elements!!”

(“there was a WAR?!?!!!” -aang, probably)

so now aang does a deep dive into all of the nation’s politics while also training. katara doesn’t really attend his meetings, but sokka’s a total nerd and is sat for every single one. first is waterbending at the north pole. insert canon things but add in a meeting with arnook.

this is where we introduce the REAL enemy, because the enemy can’t be the gaang attempting to learn international law at 12, 14, and 15 years old. during the full moon someone assassinates the moon spirit! (sorry yue, i love you but you still die in this au…)

so after mastering waterbending the gaang heads to the earth kingdom. they meet toph and she joins. they head to ba sing se, which, after trying to talk politics with the king, they realize is still completely unaware of the war. while in the earth kingdom, we get a name for the big bad. the dai li. after realizing that ba sing se is basically a military dictatorship, the gaang escapes and head to the fire nation.

that’s where zuko, azula, and iroh get reintroduced. aang and sokka consistently come back from meetings with the royals complaining about “oh my god, the princess is such a bitch. seriously, how is she allowed to help run this country??”

katara eventually goes with the boys to a meeting to get them to shut up. toph makes fun of her for being a people pleaser, but katara will do literally anything to get her brother and best friend to stop yapping about the same topic at her every. single. day.

azula (disaster lesbian) doesn’t say a single word throughout the entire meeting. sokka and aang walk out feeling like they were in the twilight zone. katara shows up to more and more meetings. why? definitely not cause the princess is sort of kind of somewhat cute intriguing.

insert azula’s gay awakening crisis here. she eventually starts talking at the meetings, but she’s only ever nice to katara lmao. katara does realize that azula’s an actual genius, though. she decides that the two of them could probably like, take over the entirety of ba sing se in a day if they tried hard enough. but of course that is purely hypothetical.

so one day a meeting gets interrupted by a literal dai li assassin trying to kill aang. he barely escapes the resulting fight.

so the dai li send more assassins. and even more assassins. until finally zuko gets fed up and is just like “alright i’m tired of dealing with these guys. can we please go kick their leader’s ass??”

that is how azula and zuko end up joining the gaang. and how azula can eventually lay siege over ba sing se (even if she reluctantly gives it back when katara tells her to).

—

other misc key points:

- azula and katara get together right before they fight with long feng. it happens cause katara notices that azula is nervous (nobody else would be able to tell) and so she’s like “zula. you’ve got this. we’ve got this” and kisses her lmao

- toph and azula are best friends, to katara’s obvious dismay

- the second azula calls zuko “zuzu” in front of sokka he immediately starts rolling on the floor and laughing. katara has to make sure his lungs are okay afterwards

- zuko: “im literally not gay??” sokka: “yeah, and toph can see”

- toph regularly comes back to wherever the gaang is staying with bags of money. she knows how to find every single illegal fighting ring in the world.

- this is a loooooong term plot. since there’s no reason to worry about the comet it can take place over many years. which also means that katara and azula literally pine for each other until they’re like 20 and everyone around them, especially (and surprisingly) aang, is like “oh my god make it stop”

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Could you perhaps write a post-war Levihan, but in which they go over their feelings for one another? (Or they don't, and they kind of half-discuss it. I think writing characters talking about romance is one of the easiest ways to practice difficult dialogue)

Hello Anon! I'm surprised with how many people request Levihan, I didn't know it was such a popular ship!!

I like your idea, I think I'll incorporate it with the little story (?) that I have going on about Hange and Levi post rumbling if you don't mind! Read here for part 1, part 2 and a bit of extra.

Levihan: On their way back to the tent there's silence. It's so silent that you can actually hear the wind lifting up dush from the reddish ground of Fort Salta. They haven't said a single word to eachother since "the thing", as Hange addressed it.

Levi thinks it's kind of odd, how silent she has been since then. He feels somewhat amused. Was it really that easy to make her shut up? Had he known, he would have kissed her a long time ago.

He does nothing to conceal a small smirk on his lips. He doesn't have to, Hange is trying her best to look everywhere else but him. She's been focusing on pushing his wheelchair steadily.

"Oi" he says, waving his hand. "How long are you going to stay quiet for?"

Hange jumps as if the chair had electrocuted her. "WH-WHAT?! You talking to me??"

"Who else is there to talk to?"

"I-I guess you're right, haha" she takes hold of the handles again, but doesn't move an inch. "I'm sorry, my thoughts are quite overwhelming"

"It's usually your mouth that's (and he air quoted) quite overwhelming. If you want to say something, just say it." He sighs. "Being quiet like that is not like you, it's creeping me out". His voice is monotone, but warm.

"Right. Sorry. I'm just a bit confused." She passes a hand through her hair. "I never knew you thought of me that way" then suddenly slaps her face with both hands in an overly dramatic manner as if to snap herself out of a dream. "I mean hell yeah! But also, whaat?? Why did you kiss me?? Also, ME?? WHY ME??"

"Aand there she is, the real Hange's back alright" he mutters, missing the silence from before.

They arrive back at their tent. "Look, we can talk more about it inside. My ass hurts from sitting in this chair for too long"

Hange laughs, and proceeds to help him settle down on the makeshift mattresses inside the tent. They're not the best, but it sure is better than sleeping on the ground.

She turns on a little oil lamp and falls back on her own mattress. They've been sleeping like this for a while now.

"So, Levi, I need a LOT of answers. But I think you already know that" she turns towards him.

Levi sighs, adding another makeshift pillow behind his head. "Right..." But a few minutes pass and he doesn't continue. He doesn't quite know what to say or how to say it. Eventually, he speaks.

"Hange, we've known eachother for a very long time..." he starts and Hange listens carefully.

"I don't know anyone else that understands me the way you do. I think you get what I mean". Hange nods.

"You talk a lot, way too much most of the time. You can be annoying, and your obsession for titans disturbs most people." He continues, and Hange's brows furrow. "Hey, that's not ni-"

"Shh, I'm not done" he lifts a finger, and there's silence again. "However, you are also determined, kind, skilled and a great friend to me..." His hand reaches out for hers to hold again like they have been ever since the end of the world. "I'd like to have you close. You're the only thing I have left" at that his hand squeezes hers, and he turns to look her in the eye. Hange is beyond surprised. It takes her a few seconds to process his words.

"Who would have thought all it takes for you to go soft is for the world to end" Hange said with a big laugh.

"Are you... laughing at my feelings?" His tone sounds almost threatening. But he's not serious.

"Absolutely not! In fact, I feel the same about you." She squeezes his hand in return. "And who else's gonna take care of you but me, hmmmm? I gotta make sure no one tries to roll your chair off a cliff or something." She laughs, and Levi sighs.

"Aand you've ruined the moment".

[babiebom]

Dbd Killers as Nicknames my friends and I use in game

A/N: because i think. I only have like one thing posted for dbd. These are the Male Killers!

Tw:maybe cursing? None? Slight sexualization of certain killers?

Genre:headcanons? Or written like headcanons at least

Wc: maybe 3+ for each killer?

The Trapper/Evan Macmillan

Has no nickname

Is just "the trapper"

Always said in a panic tho

Is usually called a "stupid stupid man"

The Clown/Jeffrey Hawk

"Oh it's *imitation of him coughing*"

His nickname is just us coughing in gross ways

Also "you absolute baboon" by when we're upset

The Ghostface/Danny "Jed Olsen" Johnson

My boyfriend

I exclusively call him this

Everyone else says "oh no your boyfriend is here"

Or we call him Ghost-a Fa-che in really bad italian accents

The Executioner/Pyramid Head

Conehead

Forgot the word pyramid

Also trianglehead

Usually proceeded or followed by "ewwwwww why is he sludging up the place????"

The Twins/Victor Deshayes

Ugly little baby

We forgot that he is not really a baby

We also call him Viktor Vector

Usually followed by "kill her little baby"

Or "stomp on himmmmm"

Then "yeah that's what you get you ugly baby"

The Mastermind/Albert Wesker

Lil Kitty Meow Meow

Bc I accidentally called him whisker

And that reminded me of the Lil kitty meow meow meme

Is usually followed by his "urgh" when he does the dashy thing

The Nemesis/Nemesis

Nemesussy

It was a slip of the tongue that stuck

I also call him Thanos half the time

I forget his name and panic

Then call him Thanos because big purple man

Usually proceeded by "oh god it's Thanos I can see his stupid little zombies"

The Doctor/Herman Carter

Has no nickname but is usually called out by saying "sorry I can't talk right now he's ELECTROCUTING ME"

followed by imitations of his laugh

The Legion/Frank&Joey

I do not know how to write this

It's literally just The Legion but pronounced with a very bad French accent

Also Franklin or Frankie-boy

And Josepher and "which one is this one again"

The Trickster/Jiwoon Hak

We either call him Trickster

Or Jungkook from Bts(yes this whole thing)

Is usually followed by "bob and weave and bob and weave"

Or is followed by "please dont kamsahamnida me"

The Wraith/ Phillip Ojomo

Bing Bong

Because when he hits his little thing it goes Bing Bong

Usually proceeded by "oh god" and "please don't be bingbong"

Usually followed by "oh god where did he go"

The Hillbilly/ Max Thompson Jr

We just call him by Max

I usually call him Maxie-poo

Cute

The Cannibal/ Bubba Sawyer

Like Max we just call Bubba by Bubba

Bubba is a cute nickname in of itself

The Oni/Kazan Yamaoka

Onigiri

Because I said "Oni? Like onigiri?"

Followed by screaming or "someone stop him he's eating my blood"

The Deathslinger/Caleb Quinn

Rootie tootie mcshooty shooty

Because it's funny

Also sometimes call him the hashslinger

Or hashslinging slashed

From spongebob because we again forgot his name

The Shape/Michael Myers

Miku Miku

Because I panicked when I saw him and could not speak or remember his name for the life of me

Usually followed by "oh god this is gonna be a bad match"

Also followed by singing the song but only by saying Bing and bong.

The Nightmare/Freddy Kreuger

"Ew its stupid what's his face....sleepytime....nightnight"

Has no real nickname because we're not happy to see him

"Why is there blood coming out of this...oh."

"Haha your neck is bent weird"

The Blight/Talbot Grimes

Incoherent screaming

Literally it's "uhhhh HA HUHHHH WHA HELP"

Followed by "why is he so fast?"

Or is called speedy Gonzales or Sonic

The Knight/Tarhos Kovács

I have accidentally called him the borgo

We also just call him the knight or just scream

The Cenobite/Elliot Spencer

Pinhead

I find it funny that that is an actual name for him

Because we usually call him that

The Demogorgon(?)

Or "stupid pinhead" but you get the gist

Also BabyBox

Bad doggie

He is a dog that is bad because he keeps biting me with his weird little face

The Dredge(?)

Is this thing a male? Idk but it counts

Again we are bad at remembering names

Half the time he is called the sludge

Usually followed by "why is it nighttime"

[try-set-me-on-fire]

I read finally going water (i waited to be in the headspace and mood ) and it didn’t disappoint it was so good it made my cry at least once for chapters sometimes more you have a way with writing the emotions so tangible really I love it , you mentioned follow up stories and I’m excited I can see the all possibilities to explore , both buck and Eddie and the trauma , Chris trauma when they both come back to work , what about the Diaz siblings reconnecting and maybe another family Diaz meet up where Eddie brings buck and having to navigate the dynamic with buck officially being his boyfriend so many stuff ! I might have become obsessed with the universe lol sorry for the ramble the main thing is a love it

Thank you!!! Sorry for the distress I’m glad it was enjoyable!!

Ooh I didn’t really have anything with Chris or the Diaz siblings planned but maybe I could work them into my existing ideas… so far I have a little 4 part series of follow ups that I’ve written uh very little of. The general ideas:

- Buck gets hurt at work for the first time post cruise sinking. Eddie’s still off work and is struggling pretty badly with having survived something that should have killed him (again). Buck is really upset at being hurt because he knows it’s going to upset Eddie further. Told from Bobby’s pov going from the station to the call to taking Buck home to Eddie.

- 5 or 6 months after the sinking. Eddie pov. Buck and Eddie are getting married! Except Buck is running himself ragged and compromising on any nice ideas for the wedding he might have because he wants it to happen as fast as possible. Eddie knows its because he’s afraid about what could happen if Eddie were to die again and he wants some more paperwork tying them together and tying him to Chris, but Eddie confides in Bobby that half the time it feels like Buck is planning his funeral. Dont they just get to be in love! Dont they get their happy ending! Bobby says, of course, that he should probably talk to Buck about this. Ends with Eddie actually buying them rings to propose for real (that barely happened, it was almost a business discussion when they decided to go for it), and beyond that asks if Buck wants to go to city hall and get married the next day. Eddie insists it wont actually count, it will be a marriage on paper only, they’re going to have a long engagement and plan their real wedding as big and extravagant as they want it, but he understands Buck’s fear and wants to soothe that in whatever way he can. Buck apologizes for kind of forgetting the being in love part of wanting a wedding, and says he’d love to go not get married to Eddie.

-8? 10? Months after the sinking. Marisol is doing electrical work on her house and would love a firefighter’s guidance to make sure she doesn’t accidentally catch anything on fire or electrocute herself. But she doesn’t really want to talk to Eddie still! She’s still kind of mad at him! So she calls Buck instead (she’s also still a little mad at him but they went through it sort of together for those few awful days so this seemed the better option). Buck looks SO nervous being there like she’s going to suddenly attack or something. She kind of rolls her eyes about it. As they work he tells her they’re starting to do better, and he and Eddie are getting married. He actually admits they are already technically married and swears her to secrecy because literally no one knows except Bobby because they had to update station paperwork. Not really sure where I want this one to go i just wanted Marisol to have a chance to work through things! That all really sucked for her! I think she and buck end up as weird kind of friends.

- Around a year and a half after the sinking. A kind of bachelor party/group vacation to a lake somewhere. Everybody piled in a big rented house. Just a bunch of snippets of everyone finally doing actually okay and Buck and Eddie excited to get married for real.

[quibliography]

The Many Daughters of Afong Moy by Jamie Ford

Synopsis:  This novel is about generations of mothers and daughters and the things they inherit and the things they let go. Dorothy Moy is struggling in so many aspects of her life: her marriage, her unresolved trauma with her mother, the chaos of her work. When she is introduced to a new experimental treatment that focuses on epigenetics, the study of heritable traits that happen without changing DNA, Dorothy signs up immediately. During her treatments she connects with the past generations: Faye, a nurse in China; Zoe, a student in England; Lai King, a girl quarantined during the plague in San Francisco; Greta, a tech executive with a unique dating app; and Afong Moy, the first Chinese woman to set foot in America. She works through the struggles built on generations, hoping that she can save her daughter from having to continue the burden.

My Quibs: I was really intrigued by the concept of epigenetics, especially through the lens of generations of mothers and daughters. The main aspect being fear and trauma, which was described by (I think) a real study of mice, where they trained a "generation" of mice to recognize a smell before being lightly electrocuted. And then the grand-children of these mice, whom had never experienced electrocution, reacted in fear to the same smell. The concept of inheriting an innate memory is fascinating to me. And Ford sets up his story very neatly, placing each generation in unique trauma situations (a war, a plague, a foreign land, staged fascism 👀etc). And look, I don't ever want to dissuade anyone from writing about anything but.... as a man, I'm curious how much he understands about the relationships between mothers and daughters. The idea is there but he doesn't really move beyond that. I was hoping to see a unique perspective on the connections between them and how/why these things get passed from generation to generation. If anything, only Dorothy experiences the strings that bind everyone together. All the other characters are very much wrapped up and boxed in their own individual stories. If not for their name, I wouldn't even be sure they were related. It's a story about different characters but I'm not even sure what the story was even about.

Should you read it? It’s an interesting idea though I can't recommend it solely on his delivery of it. But it's an interesting idea.

Similar reads? I can't say because the big selling point I fixated on - epigenetics - is not one I've seen too often elsewhere (at least as the focal point of the narrative).

(Spoiler Alert!) I was really disappointed in the ending. All the characters and their stories seemed so disparate and haphazard. I was hoping that the end would bring all the ends together in a way the would make it retroactively coherent. But instead, it felt too pretty. For one, I don't believe trauma can be healed by going through the motions of "correcting" the past. If anything, we need to embrace the past as it is, learn from it, and move forward. Dorothy, in a LOTR epic montage ending fashion, runs through every past generation and changes a pivotal moment in the story to make everyone's ending, if not happier, at least more conclusive. But Lai King doesn't get to mourn the death of her friend and fantasizing that she gets to comfort him at his moment of death doesn't actually address the trauma. Helping Greta get revenge on a misogynistic investor doesn't change the fact that the bad PR cost her her company (although in the fantasy it does 🤨). Also, what does that even mean for Dorothy? By giving all the past women resolution, that fixes her? I think that's just too simple and pretty and it was a bit disappointing to read.

What did you think of The Many Daughters of Afong Moy?

[atlaese]

around the block - m.m.

prompt: "tourist asking for directions" summary: lost in the city that never sleeps you find the one man who shouldn't be able to help you navigate the city, yet his kindness makes everything better. pairing: reader x matt murdock   tw: meet-cute, mentions of catholicism (a little joke about a priest), pure fluff tbh! words: 2K. a/n: this is my entry for @fluffyprettykitty's 1K celebration/writing challenge. congratulations again lovie!!! <3. i highly recommend everyone to check out her blog; she's so immensely talented and has something for everyone! <3 it's been a few weeks since I wrote for matty boy, but i just had to use this prompt for him. i hope you enjoy and i very much welcome any feedback <33

p.s. dividers by @firefly-graphics  p.p.s. i now have a library blog! follow @aeristhotle to get notified when i update!

reblogs and feedback are appreciated ✨💗

matt murdock masterlist | all masterlists

You wouldn’t say you were lost per se. Lost was a word that you used for people who didn’t know who they were. People that had gone their whole lives as someone that they weren’t, someone formed by society.

You were just a bit confused at your current location.

You were somewhere in New York, that was obvious (you would recognize those green street signs anywhere). Yet, you had no clue what borough you were in. 

In your opinion, it could either be Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens or any of the other boroughs that made New York the beautiful city it was. 

If you had prepared this impromptu day in the city better, you’d have charged your phone, brought a small map and perhaps met up with one of your friends that lived in the city.

But unfortunately, none of that happened. 

You had to be in the city for a day to attend a meeting at a publisher for one of your clients. You were an independent PR manager, your company on the brink of exponential growth and you’d do a lot for the few clients you had. Flying in for a meeting in another state was not a problem if it meant putting out a good reputation for your company. 

Once your flight arrived in the early morning hours, you got the bad news that your client came down with a sinus infection due to allergies and that the meeting was postponed until further notice. You loved spring, but the pollen really messed up your schedule.

If you had known this ahead, you’d have met up with a dear friend you knew from college, yet they too were unavailable due to a major walk-out at a client’s firm. 

And for your phone… it was honestly a piece of shit. It stopped working when the battery level hit 28% and it also had trouble charging. You needed to bend the charging cable in a certain way for it to charge. Yes, you had been electrocuted twice already. 

So there you were, all alone in New York City, less prepared than ever before.

But New Yorkers were friendly people, right?

You saw a lady pushing a stroller headed your way, her curls bouncing with every step she took as she had a determined look on her face.

“I’m sorry, can I ask something?” you spoke up, a friendly smile plastered on your face.

The woman didn’t even spare a glance as she walked on, and it was only in passing that you saw the white AirPods in her ears. 

You didn’t get discouraged though, as you spotted a man with a suit who seemed to know his way around the city.

“I’m sorry, could I trouble you for a second?”

The man looked at you with big green eyes, a deer caught in the headlights. 

“Excusez-moi, no English, je ne parle pas anglais, désolé.”

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered, embarrassment flooding your entire being. This whole day had morphed from a normal business trip into something where nothing went right. It felt like the equivalent of walking around with socks only to then step into a puddle of water. It wasn’t a nice feeling. 

The only positive thing about today might have been the weather.

Summer had just arrived in New York. It was the time just before the pressing heat that would make the city feel like a bubble that was about to burst. There was a light breeze for you to enjoy, the sun’s beams were warming your skin, making you wish you could read your book in the shade of a tree in Central Park. These were the days that made hauling a book with you every day worth it.

Yet, as much as you wished to go there, you had absolutely no idea how to get there.

You stood in front of a church and you had a few options here. You could go inside and bother the priest for directions (would that count as blasphemy?), or you could bother the sunglasses-wearing man that was sitting on the bench next to the entrance. 

Your choice was quickly made. No need to bother the man of faith when you could bother the handsome stranger with a slight scruff and perfectly coiffed hair. 

The man didn’t react as you sat down next to him, his suit in a crisp state as he seemed to just be enjoying the nice weather during his lunch break.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” you said, an apologetic look on your face, “but I’m a little lost, do you know where exactly we are?”

The man tilted his head your way in confusion, he could have been daydreaming and hadn’t even noticed you sitting down.

“Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“It’s fine,” he said, licking his lips and sitting up a bit straighter. “We’re in Hell’s Kitchen at the moment, but hearing your accent I’ve got a feeling you’re not familiar with the place.”

You let out a little scoff but laughed nonetheless.

“You’ve got a good ear, I am indeed not really familiar with the boroughs, unfortunately. I just need to find my way to Central Park.”

“Got something to do in Central Park?” he inquired, tilting his head in question. His glasses were tinted in a dark colour, not giving any sign of what colour eyes would be hidden behind them. 

“I was just gonna read a bit in the shade before going back to my hotel,” you said. “My meeting was cancelled last minute so now I have the day to spend here.”

“The quintessential New Yorker experience,” he nodded, a ghost of a smile painted on his lips. “Can’t say I wouldn’t do the same.”

You smiled at his remark, happy that the native New Yorker wouldn’t shun you for doing something like that. 

“Anyway, I have some time to spare, I can walk with you to the park,” he said, quickly looking at the church’s entrance. 

“Oh, really? That would honestly make my day!”

The day really had done a 180 spin. At this point, you were grateful to get directions, so the fact that he would walk you all the way back made you want to hug him. 

You stood up from the bench, failing to hide the smile on your face. Well, he deserved to know how happy this made you. 

But then, your smile faltered a bit. Or a lot even, the smile replaced by your jaw that had gone slack. 

The man had stood up as well, his sunglasses still perched on his nose, his bag slung over his one shoulder and a white cane in his opposite hand. 

A white cane, which was first folded up and laying next to him, was an inconspicuous item that you hadn’t even noticed in your rush to find your current location. 

Maybe that was the moment you felt truly lost. Lost in your subconscious, perhaps, because you really needed to pay attention to your surroundings.

“Oh,” you let out, shaking your head in confusion and gesturing for him to let it be, that you’d ask someone else.

“Are you gesturing right now?” he asked, a sly smile on his lips as his tongue wet them once more. 

Was he… was he laughing at you? Laughing at the confusion that surrounded you, the fact that the one thing you shouldn’t do in front of a blind person was to gesture?

“Yeah, I am so incredibly sorry,” you apologized. If a small thundercloud would come floating above your head and let the rain pour down on only you, you wouldn’t even mind. It could be karma.

“It’s okay, really,” he laughed, “I can still show you the way, I’m quite the navigator.”

He held out his left arm, a welcoming smile on his face.

“Take my arm and then we’ll walk to the park together.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to do something out of your comfort zone.”

“My name is Matt Murdock and my comfort zone encompasses the whole of New York City, just accept my help.”

You laughed at his confident nature and introduction and loosely wrapped your right arm around his left as you let your name softly slip past your lips.

“So, y/n, what do you do that makes you come to the city?”

Matt started walking, a steady rhythm of thumps on the concrete as his cane hit the ground. You fell into step with him, a comfortable tread that was just fast enough for the both of you.

“I’m in PR,” you explained, “I was only supposed to be here today for a meeting, but my client got sick.”

“And you decided to go out on an adventure?”

“Yeah, but unfortunately I wasn’t very well prepared,” you laughed. “But it seems that my day was made a million times better now that I’ve got my own personal guide!”

Matt laughed, and for the whole way to the park, you talked about everything and nothing.

Matt explained his job, hence why he was dressed so fancily and why he could just take a two-hour lunch. 

You told him about your dreams of owning a bigger company & he told you about his colleague and best friend, Foggy. 

“Well, according to my memory, we should be at the park,” Matt announced as you rounded the corner. “Could you confirm that we are indeed at an entrance?”

“Affirmative,” you said, softly squeezing his bicep in excitement. “Does it make me a horrible human if I told you I’m glad my client called in sick?”

A laugh rumbled up through his chest, making him softly shake as you glanced up at him. The rays of the sun were hitting his face just right, giving a small glimpse at the eyes that were a little less hidden beneath the sunglasses. They seemed to be a beautiful brown, with thick lashes framing them. 

“It doesn’t, not in my professional opinion at least.”

You slowly unwrapped yourself from his arm, signalling that this was the point where your ways would part. 

“Thank you, Matt, really, I still would have been walking around Hell’s Kitchen like a chicken without a head without you.”

“It’s not a problem, I enjoyed this… little walk with you,” he smiled, tilting his head down in response. “I’m glad I met you.”

“I’m glad my distress makes you happy,” you joked. “No, I’m kidding I’m really glad I met you, too.”

“Unfortunately, I have to get back to my office, but next time you’re in the city you might want to get lost in Hell’s Kitchen again.”

“Lost in front of the church, where a man is sitting on a bench?”

Matt nodded as he got his phone out of his bag and held it out to you. 

“I’d love it if you wanted to give me your number? You’d never be lost in the city again, I swear.”

Matt turned out to be right.

You got to know each other even better through the lengthy late-night phone calls and quick e-mails during lunch. During the late evenings in your office, you put each other on speaker to have some company - you would be working on a campaign and he would be preparing his opening statements for a case.

The publisher in New York decided to get you on retainer, meaning that you had to be in the city at least twice a month. It also meant that you got to be with each other a lot more.

And in the end, you really never got lost in that city again, because he was always there to guide you around the block. 

[kingofthewilderwest]

DreamWorks Dragons: The Nine Realms liveblog Dragon Club

Lemme guess. Based on this title, the other two characters get their dragon friends. At least one. I figured it’d be like, one char per episode for S1.

Also upon doing basic Googling I realize her name is spelled Jun. My bad.

The giant hole. Hmhmmmm there can’t possibly be an analogue Red Death in that hole, a big boss they go up against at the end of the season

“You’re saying a dragon did all this damage?” says Jun. This conversation should have the two characters flipped. Jun, who always believed in dragons, versus Tom, who didn’t recognize a dragon when it was two feet away from him. Yeah, sure, Jun operates on assumptions of what dragons are through legends, whereas Tom is based more on experience, but this involves burnt rock. Burnt stuff. Dragon fire. This seems like a Jun thing to believe.

I do appreciate the live flutes and the large amounts of cello in the soundtrack.

“I got this” he says before getting fired upon. I appreciate the mistaken belief he can do it. Keeps our hero from being infallible, yada yada, basic writing stuff.

I’m increasingly wanting to do a TNR rewrite fanfic.

I like Alex’s taste in music.

The amount of exposition in the dialogue is annoying. They’re trying to remind us of things that happened, which can be a useful thing in tv shows, but it’s poorly executed and it’s too much. It’s babying the viewer’s intelligence to follow the basic plot.

The earthquakes are caused by the biggo boss dragon tunneling through the earth, aren’t they?

Eyyyyyyyy we get to meet both parents of one of the kids.

So this scene with D’Angelo and mommo is a great example of the stiffness of movement and dialogue in TNR. The conversations come out stiff, particularly when combined with the animation. And things like throwing the boxes comes out looking unnatural. My mind attributes this kind of movement with the “toned down violence” of younger kid’s tv, in the sense movements are slow, awkward, and limited. 

D’Angelo is one big giant cutie, inside and out.

Okay Jun and Tom sneak-crawling past D’Angelo got me to snigger.

Also ever since they announced that the place was called ICARIS in the first episode, I was smirking. A little on the nose with the analogies, eh?

“Doctor D.” Also a good stripper name.

D’Angelo is such a ray of sunshine that he is oblivious because he is a ray of sunshine.

“The first rule of Dragon Club is you don’t talk about Dragon Club.” Rotflh, how did I know they’d quote that?

The fact every character has a completely different reaction to the dragons is great.

“DID I MENTION I’M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!?” The voice cracking in that line is solid delivery. XD

Ah yes. Let’s gently electrocute people awake.

I still want to hug that Gembreaker.

I appreciate D’Angelo has legitimate skills applicable to interacting with dragons.

“Sparky” and “Wonder Twins” hahaha. Yes I like D’Angelo

I also appreciate that even though they’re trying to help an injured animal, she’s a wild animal, so it’s not easy. It’s not just Walk Up To A Wild Animal.

“He made it.” “And he survived.” Isn’t that the same thing?

That is not a sufficient reason to completely prevent an animal from flying.

D’Angelo is officially too pure for this world

THAT FALLING LOOKED SO FAKE

She has an ankylosaur taiiiiil <333

I like how basically they’re just flying in circles with the one small environment they made.

Seriously though, gemstone rhino beetle dragon was such a good idea

:Weoijag;eogija;eorjag;oerijga;eorij D’ANGELO I LOVE YOU I’m cracking up at his inability to keep a secret. But at least he speaks so absurdly that it sounds like, yep, imagination. I love that the parents mistake it for DnD

[broadwayandnetflix]

Hey pretty! Could we possibly get a part 2 of "Done"?

Does he call her and sort it out? Is it completely over? How does he cope? How is she feeling? Ahhhshsh

Your writing is amazing, thankyou so much,

All the love<33

Come Back To Me - Bo Burnham x Reader

Warnings: Language

Theme: ANGST with some fluff.

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: this is part two to Done I really hope you enjoyed it. It was not crazy fluffy but I tried to make it to the best of my ability. I am also tagging @stspookers @katelyneliz and @andshesaidwhat and @asi-42 Since they orginally commented on the first part.

At first, you took up in a nearby motel; you didn’t wanna inconvenience anyone about your failed relationship. It had been forever with Bo by your side. Without him? It just felt off-putting.

One week turned into two, and you were getting too scared to look at your bank account. Surely enough, you had contacted a friend and took up residence with them.

In regards to Bo, all you had heard from him was radio silence. Almost making you believe that it really was happening, that you had lost him for good.

Your whole entire heart, mind, and body were numb. You moved around your life like a stranger, not sure of where to go and what to do.

Nights were the worst; you’d think with getting practice without him beside you would be fine. Except, it was the exact opposite; the hope that you had for Bo had faded.

You felt silly; the man wasn’t dead. So why were you acting like he was? You didn’t mourn him. You mourned the relationship.

Or scratch that, he might as well have been considered dead. Even when you saw him after all those long nights in the guest house, he was practically a ghost.

You could tell that your friend was concerned; she had taken you in with open arms. In regards to her place, there was no eviction date in your future.

She tried her best, spending long movie nights with you over shared tubs of ice cream. Or taking you shopping and trying to boost your confidence. Making sure not to mention the man unless you are comfortable.

That is until one day you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, you had been slumped on the couch watching one of your favorite shows.

Bo: Can we talk? I need to say so much. I am so sorry. Can we please just talk? I miss you.

You felt as if you had just been electrocuted, sitting upright to stare at the message before you. Do you answer it? Do you? Or do you just kick the man to the curb just like he did you?

On the one hand, you wanted him back so desperately. You tried to forget this ever happened and just go back to normal. But then again, what was normal really? Is, is it now being ignored by the very man you loved so deeply?

You shook your head and turned the phone off with a slight grimace. If he wanted you back, he’d have to work for it. You knew your worth, and it does not contain running back to Bo that fast.

-------

You let the days roll by and the numerous texts and missed calls that would accumulate from Bo. Each text getting more frantic and desperate as the days went by. You kept waiting for the relief of satisfaction to coarse through you, but all you felt was sick to your stomach.

Despite your friend’s encouragement and telling you that you were doing the right thing, all you could think about was the exact opposite.

Sure he hurt you, big time, but you didn’t wanna hurt him back. This wasn’t you. You didn’t do revenge, and as each day passed, the more you tried to restrain yourself from replying.

Which didn’t last long, given the fact that you had accidentally accepted a call a couple days later.

It was important to point out that you did not intend to answer him. He was just very convenient with calling you. You had been scrolling through social media when he called, and you had hit the call button instead of decline.

Whoops.

The air was thick and heavy even over the call, and it made you wanna crawl into your skin. Bo’s words barely making any sense as he practically begged for you to return.

You sat frozen in your spot listening to his pleas and sincere apologies, and you felt like you were gonna be sick.

“Y/N? Honey, please just say something. God, anything. Please?” he sounded so broken.

You sighed, waiting for the words that you knew were not gonna escape your lips. Held your phone tightly in your palm and hung up the call.

Curling into a tiny ball and letting the tears flow freely down your cheeks once again.

-------

At this point, you’d thought it was over. It had been two weeks since that call, Bo’s calls and texts dwindling down. You didn’t feel fantastic, that’s for sure, but you felt like you could finally breathe.

Your friend had asked if you could quickly run errands for her; you gave her a tight-lipped smile and went on your way.

It was going well; you had gotten most of everything when out of the corner of your ear. You had heard a muffled gasp, and it didn’t take long for you to promptly realize.

The man that you had so desperately wanted to see and avoid at the same time was right behind you.

How the hell were you gonna escape this? You had no idea. But you most definitely were gonna try as you wheeled your cart away from the man.

Whatever he needed was long forgotten as without fail. He followed you in what appeared to be some desperate jog, which, if you weren’t trying to ignore the man, would have been hilarious.

“Y/N, oh god I am so sorry. Can we please talk? Can you just please hear me out? And then you will never have to hear from me again, if that’s what you want.”

You exhaled and turned around to face him, trying so hard to compose yourself. It was practically taking everything in you from just going straight into his arms, letting him back into your life.

You missed him just as much as he missed you. He looked miserable if he looked poorly before. This was way worse. His hair and beard were poorly maintained, and the circles under his eyes were more profound than you anticipated.

He looked tired, so were you. And at this point, you didn’t care anymore about holding back. Bo’s eyes desperately pleading for forgiveness, and it was like the floodgates opened.

You placed your stuff down carefully onto your shopping cart and went straight into his arms. Not even caring that you were in a supermarket aisle, his arms snaking around your waist, holding onto you for dear life.

“I am so unbelievably sorry, I was horrible to you. You do know that I love you so much, I can’t do this without you. I wouldn’t even forgive myself-” Bo practically sobbed into your chest.

“I do.” you whisper, so softly you’re not even sure you said it.

He stiffens ever so slightly, murmuring a series of gratitude into the embrace. The two of you weren’t perfect, or not at least right now you aren’t.

There was a lot of work to do. A lot, but within due time, you’d find yourself moving back into the shared apartment.

You’d awake to Bo making you breakfast and twirling you around in the kitchen. As if it were a ballroom, you’d find Bo making time for you.

He’d make sure to sleep in the same bed, pulling you into his arms every night. Peppering kisses up and down your body, making up for all the time he spent away from you.

His voice is groggy with sleep as you’d wake up to sunlight streaming through the window. Making sure to remind you how much he loved you.

You knew the past wasn’t him, that he never really did stop loving you. But trusting him again came with some time, and he was ever so patient with you.

If there was anything you missed was his jokes, the way he’d effortlessly bring you to laughter. The kind where you snort out of pure glee, and he just taps your nose and looks at you with pure adoration.

Of course, he wasn’t always perfect. This wasn’t a fairytale. But much as he was there for you when you struggled, you did the same for him.

Even if it was space, you gave him all the time that he needed. In return, he made sure to come back every night and let you know if he needed anything.

If he needed the motivation to finish the special, you gave him a break to just breathe. You did whatever he needed. Just to see him smile was enough.

And he loved you all the more for it, drawing you hot baths and getting your favorite foods. Or just sitting on the couch with you and the dogs and just soaking everything in.

You two weren’t perfect, far from it. But you loved each other, and it was going to be okay.

[carmensbroom]

I've once again had 6 hours to process everything I saw in season 4 so I'm just gonna say my thoughts on it (hold onto your fedoras again folks)

first off, WE FOUND OUT GRAY'S LAST NAME?? I was so shocked and happy at the same time I love how everyone asked for player's real name and we ended up with gray's surname for some reason shsjsj. NOBODY ASKED FOR THAT BUT THEY DELIVERED ANYWAY

ALSO GRAHAM IS AN ORPHAN?? my precious boy *throws mommy's boy headcanon out the window*

the second episode really had me shipping carmivy they're so cute we got a girl's trip and I'm all for it

I think I may now be a dash haber stan but let's not make a big thing of it

also ivy eating the chocolate in the middle of a mission deserves an honorable mention because of her cute little tongue (I'm weird okay djsjsjs)

zack trying to bond with shadowsan and him having none of it was delightful

that fucking robot god damn bellum really thought of everything didn't she every time I thought it was gone it made a come back I literally said out loud "carmen is so fucked"

I SWEAR TO GOD EVERY TIME GRAY TALKED ABOUT CARMEN I KEPT THINKING HE WAS GONNA SAY "BECAUSE I LOVE HER" IN WHICH CASE I WOULD HAVE DIED AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY

yall have no idea how relieved I was when I found out that photo of julia was her and her (presumably) mother and NOT a boyfriend sjsjsjs

catch me making a headcanon that julia has a single mom because her father disowned her for coming out as gay based on that picture alone 😭

I'M SORRY BUT THE AMOUNT OF FLIRTING BETWEEN CARMEN AND JULES?? PLEASE THEY'RE SECRET GIRLFRIENDS JUST ADMIT YOU CENSORED THEM AND GO

OKAY BUT WHEN THEY WERE IN JULIA'S OFFICE AND CARMEN SAID "WAY TO FOLLOW YOUR HEART JULES" AND SHE WAS LIKE "YOU REMEMBERED" I LOST IT WHAT DID CARMEN REMEMBER JULES?? DID THEY HAVE A CONVERSATION OFF SCREEN? MAYBE I'M JUST A BIG HUGE LESBIAN BUT THAT'S A BIT GAY LADIES

carmen getting all worried when julia wasn't answering her phone was the blessed gay content I signed up for PLEASE THEY CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER SO MUCH

never thought I'd say this but I loved devineaux this season he was funny, he improved his treatment towards julia (I don't recall him officially apologising I must have missed something djsjsjs)

the only thing I didn't like was it kinda seemed like they were trying to hint that chase and jules were into each other and I didn't really vibe with that

all that shit with dr bellum and the crown for cleo really had me thinking cleobellum was gonna be canon what a clown I am (seriously tho the way she lost it when the crown got stolen GIVE IT BACK IT BELONGS TO HER WIFE)

look all I'm saying is: tigress new outfit in the egypt episode was hot

HER FACE AT THE END AFTER SHE GOT TRAPPED WITH ALL THOSE BUGS

I wish julia and gray could have met there's so much friendship potential there 😭

is player... is he a bit 💅 I SEE THAT PRIDE STICKER ON YOUR LAPTOP YOUNG MAN YOU'RE NOT SUBTLE

ngl I nearly teared up when player finally met carmen in person

I'M SORRY BUT JULIA'S BLUSH IN EPISODE 7 PLEASE SHE'S SO SMITTEN WITH CARMEN IT'S BRILLIANT

EVIL CARMEN WAS REALLY SOMETHING ELSE I WAS SO SCARED SHE'D BE STUCK LIKE THAT FOREVER

I mentioned this in another post but when julia was like "don't you remember me? I'm your girlfriend friend, jules" I NEARLY FUCKING CRIED THEY WERE GETTING KINDA CLOSE AND THEN CARMEN GOT MIND WIPED

JULIA TOPS JULIA TOPS I SAID IT ALL ALONG AND IT'S TRUE SHE REALLY PINNED VILE CARMEN THAT'S TOP BEHAVIOR (also this now makes carmen a bottom I don't make the rules)

kinda shocked that paper star was hardly here I don't stan her so it didn't bother me much but still it was just strange they didn't use her this season

when shadowsan whipped out the last doll and carmen had all those flashbacks to when she was at vile I nearly started crying AGAIN

I LEGIT THOUGHT CARMEN HAD KILLED GRAY DJSJSJS AN ELECTRICIAN GETTING ELECTROCUTED THAT'S SOME IRONY RIGHT THERE

gray really confused me towards the end he kept switching sides every five minutes for the whole season I wasn't sure whether to trust him half the time dhshsjs

THE LOOK ON CARMEN'S FACE WHEN SHE THOUGHT SHE'D KILLED GRAY WAS SO HEARTBREAKING AND THEN SHE STARTED CRYING OH MY GOD I'M SORRY BABY

the way she's always been against hurting people/taking lives and then she ended up hurting all the people she loves (she nearly killed zack for god sake) really hit me hard

gray's ending was... kinda weird I understood the parallel of him not wanting to complicate carmen's life like she said about him in season 2 but it was still kinda strange that they didn't have one more conversation or get any closure

I'm obviously kinda upset that carulia wasn't canon they had so much potential imo and the show isn't about romance anyway BUT I'm happy with the content we got and THEY FLIRTED SO MUCH THEY'RE CANON IN MY HEART

THE TEAM RED GROUP HUG KILLED ME IT WAS SO CUTE

kinda annoyed that carmen just straight up left zack and ivy she really just left a note and said YEET

ivy's voice crack when she read the note got me all choked up

ngl I'm still not entirely sure how it ended I had to rewatch it a few times to understand what they were trying to imply sjsjsj

would have loved to know carmen's given name but at the same time she's literally THE carmen sandiego that's who she is, it would be silly to go by a name that she doesn't connect with just because her parents gave her it

her mom being a regular citizen was kinda bittersweet I mean a plot twist would have been good but at the same time it would make the story even more complicated

*dreams of a spinoff movie where we get better closure on everything*

ACME IVY ACME IVY I'M NOT AN IVY STAN BUT DAMN IF I AIN'T SIMPING FOR ACME IVY

I know carmen didn't want revenge but I feel like chief got let off with killing her father way too quickly if I'm honest sjsjsj

JULIA BEING IN CHARGE OF FINDING CARMEN'S MOM OH MY GOSH

I feel so bad for laughing when julia got knocked out the way the cloth fell on her head sent me but when the pole hit her head I was like "OKAY I TAKE IT BACK THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE"

was not expecting julia to physically fight anyone I mean she's always been so calm and collected and then this season she was like fuck it might as well hit a few people before we finish forever

wishing carmen and jules could have hugged or had a scene together where they talked about stockholm but I won't complain it wouldn't have really made sense anyway considering they were cool with each other at the university

so glad the trailer was misleading about the coach brunt situation I really didn't want her to get a last minute redemption

another honorable mention: cleo snapping at julia "DON'T YOU DARE IMPLY THAT I AM COMMON" sent me djdjs she was just stood there like "I am but a humble history lesbian leave me be"

I think that's everything I'll probably add to it later if I think of anything or I might make a part 2 djsjsjs (I've been writing this for almost an hour now 😭)

overall I enjoyed it from start to finish. I haven't really cried about it ending yet I'm still processing everything but I'll probably have a little sob when it finally hits me djsjsjs

CARULIA NATION WE BASICALLY WON NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I REWATCH ALL THEIR SCENES TOGETHER AND MAKE IT MY ENTIRE PERSONALITY

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. ��Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

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

[bwbatta]

six - confessions

Abstract: Draco and you are just friends so doing him a favour and pretending to be his girlfriend wouldn’t effect your friendship right?

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

Warnings: Swearing, slight angst

Word count: 2960

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one, turn it upp! ...I won’t lie, i’ve been putting off writing this purely because I don’t want to stop writing this. Anyway, the final part is finally here and I’m so happy to be sharing it with you all! 

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 5

Draco signed his name quickly and looked back at the letter he’d written. It was simple enough to get his point across, yet the repercussions from sending this could be huge. 

The blonde heir was adamant though. If this is what it took, then he would gladly accept whatever consequences came his way. He could figure it out, he always did. 

Taking a breath in to help stabilise his thoughts and nerves, he quickly put his quill down before he wrote anything else that wasn’t needed. Reading it through once more, he made sure his words were enough for now. 

Father,

I apologise for not responding sooner to your previous letter, I was at a loss for a while as to what to write.

I understand our family values and as much as I uphold them for our family’s benefit, my relationship or any of my relationships are my choice. Whilst she is not pureblood, she is not muggleborn either and both of her parents have magic, which is why I ask you to at the very least consider giving Y/N a chance.

With respect, I will not determine my relationship on your opinions, especially since you haven’t met her.

You understand there aren’t many things I would go against you on, but this is something I feel particularly strongly about. 

Regards, 

Draco

Nodding his head, he quickly folded the letter and attached it to his family’s owl. With a screech, the bird took off. 

All Draco could do now was wait.

“Please?! You’re the best person at charms that I know, you would be my favourite person on earth?!”

“Blaise-”

“Y/N please, Flitwick might push for me to be kicked out of Hogwarts if I don’t pass this test”

You snorted unattractively as you walked down the corridor, arms riddled with books. On your way to the Herbology greenhouses for your afternoon lesson, you were blitzed by Blaise who had been trying to convince you for the last five minutes to help him write his essay which was due in a couple days time. 

Blaise and you had nearly made it into the greenhouses when Professor Sprout stopped him at the door.

“You’re not in my class today Mr Zabini, I suggest you get heading towards your own class before you’re late.”

The elder witch gave him a stern look to which he smiled at, trying to lower her strict exterior. 

“I just need to talk to Y/N about something really important really quickly, Professor. It’ll only take a minute?”

“No” she rolled her eyes at the boy, “you can do that in your own time.”

“But, Professor-”

“No buts Zabini-”

“Alright Blaise, I’ll do it” you finally caved, seeing as the boy would most likely be reduced to ash from Sprout’s harsh stare otherwise. 

“Astronomy tower, 8pm?”

“Wait-”

“Okay bye!”

Without another word he turned and rushed off back inside the castle, heading to whatever his next lesson was, leaving you partially annoyed, partially awkward at the look Sprout was now sending you.

“Inside” she cocked her head towards the doorway and with a defeated look you headed into the greenhouse. 

You hadn’t been back to the Astronomy tower, despite classes, since that fight between Draco and you and you weren’t too keen on returning. Blaise however, had given you no choice in the matter as you probably wouldn’t see him until that time you’d agreed to meet. This meant you’d have to suck up your anxieties about the tower and get over yourself. 

If only it were that easy.

Your free period was rather quiet today you reckoned but you couldn’t put your finger on why it was so quiet? 

The twins weren’t around and neither were Harry and Ron, yet that was normal since you were studying in the library with Hermione. Though Hermione didn’t really talk much when you two studied, something still felt off.

Not to mention the other thing which was bothering you was how Blaise acted earlier? He was normally the most relaxed person you knew, but his earlier rushed and fretted actions also seemed wrong.

You snorted at the thought in your head; imagine if he was trying to set you back up with Draco at the astronomy tower later?!

Another sigh left your lips as you continued to try and figure out what else felt off. Hermione’s eyes darted from the essay she was writing to you sat opposite her. 

“Is there something bothering you?”

You met her stare awkwardly and shrugged slightly. 

“I don’t know, does something feel off to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too quiet, you know? I can’t put my finger on what it is though.”

“Maybe it’s because that blonde tumour isn't attached to your side anymore?!” Hermione snorted as she turned back to her work, leaving you staring at her with an unreadable expression. 

Ignoring the remark of how the witch had described Draco, she was right in the way that he did used to surprise you while you were studying. 

Was that it? You were missing him being near you?

You hadn’t really spoken to the Malfoy, only small comments in class when you were next to each other but apart from that, he wasn’t constantly next to you anymore and that bothered you. 

You had to admit you did like fake dating Draco, but that was over, it was a joke, a favour, nothing more. So why the hell would you accept anything to go back to him annoying you, him being at your side constantly, or his arm around you 90% of the time?

Then you froze.

You knew exactly why.

Holy shit, you loved him. Like actually loved him. 

Slowly starting to freak yourself out, you sat back in your chair as your mind whirred around that fact. 

He’s Draco. 

He’s one of your best friends and now everything was so messed up because he’s Draco.

Stubborn, bratty, arrogant Draco.

Who likes Draco?!

And then it hits you again. You do, you really really do. 

Because he’s Draco.

Because he cares about you and would do anything for you. Just like you’d do anything for him. He might be stubborn, but so are you. He might be bratty and spoilt because of his parents, but he actively spoils you just because he can. And he might be arrogant to everyone else, but you know how humble he could be and acts around you. His reaction after you opened your Christmas present proved that enough. 

Holy shit. 

These feelings are going to ruin whatever’s between you, friendship or not, because how the hell could you keep this to yourself? How the hell could you not tell him you loved him?

The only thing was... you were the second person to ask yourself that today. 

Draco paced in the tower, a letter held tightly in his hand as he waited for you to show up. Guaranteed it wasn't 8pm yet, but he was still so anxious for when you did actually turn up. Were you going to turn up?

A lot of things had flown through his mind today, some putting him on edge as to whether his plan to get you back would work, yet nothing had made him as anxious as when the letter arrived from his father earlier that day.

It was slightly wrinkled now from how much he had fiddled with it in his hands and with a frown, Draco tucked it back into his pocket, forcing himself to take a long breath as he did so and run his hands nervously through his hair.

Not even a moment passed before he heard the door below slam shut and your footsteps approach. A brief flash of panic flew through his body like he’d been electrocuted, what if this was a bad idea? What if you didn’t want him like he wanted you and he would just look like a complete idiot?

All the thoughts in his head however vanished as soon as you reached the top step and your eyes locked on his. 

Neither of you said anything at first and the silence was almost deafening.

“Fucking Blaise,” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “Earlier I bet myself he’d do something like this.”

“It was actually my idea”

“...I see” 

“Surprised?” 

You snorted

“No.” You hid your grin at the look of offence present on his face, “I knew one of you would come up with something like this. I had my money on Blaise as he was the one I spoke to earlier. Despite how much you love being mysterious and complicated Draco, you’re like an open book to me.”

The wizard let out a snort, he had a feeling she would figure something was up. They really did know each other well.

The silence stilted in the air again and felt heavy despite the fresh air surrounding them. 

You looked down, avoiding the blue eyes that watched you. Despite being in love with him, you had no idea what to actually say to him. Luckily he took the lead.

“It was really stupid.”

You frowned, before you forced yourself to glance towards him, eyes catching on how he was looking at you.

“What was?”

“The fact we thought we could pretend and fake an entire relationship with no consequences.”

You didn’t say anything. 

“I mean let’s be honest,” Draco scoffed a laugh, “we really thought that everything would go back to how it was before? That was stupid. Also the fact that the whole ‘having a fake girlfriend’ thing wasn’t really working for me.”

He paused to assess your reaction for a moment before continuing on. 

“We were great as a fake couple, sure. We were also great at being friends, I mean... that was before I kissed you and fell in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the confession. A smile grew faintly on his face as he took in your reaction. After realising you weren’t going to bolt, he took a couple steps closer until he stood right before you, his toes almost touching your own. 

“This whole fake dating thing was so stupid in so many ways except for one; how it made me realise how much I genuinely want to be your boyfriend.”

Draco shrugged sightly like it was no big deal, but inside he had to remind his lungs to work.

Why hadn’t you said anything yet? Maybe because he can’t stop his mouth from talking? Should he stop talking? His mouth opened again before he could stop himself.

“I want you. I want us. But I want it for real, not some half-assed, pathetic excuse of relationship which is all just an act and makes us question where we stand with each other.” 

His voice lowered to a whisper but you heard him perfectly. 

“Draco... I want nothing more than to be with you.”

“You do?”

“Yes, but I can’t help the fact that I’m not a pureblood and your parents won’t accept me-”

“Wait, okay, hold on.”

Digging his hand into his pocket, he fished out the crumpled letter and attempted to flatten it out slightly. 

“I sent my father a letter in response the one you read the other day and I got this back earlier today. Just... just read it.”

He held the letter out at you with such a serious expression causing you to frown, you took it from him wondering what was in it. Opening the parchment, your eyes immediately flicked back to the blonde once more, only to find him watching your every movement.

“Draco,

I don’t believe you understand the seriousness of what you’re asking from your mother and I. You have a duty to this family to uphold and despite the notion that you wouldn’t disobey me with much, this is still a vital factor of those duties.

Nevertheless, you expressed your seriousness for this girl, coupled with your mother’s bickering about at least meeting her, I will give you one chance. We will meet her if she values the seriousness and significance of our values. If she does not however, then you will end whatever you have with her. 

You understand in the near future, things will change. You need to be as prepared as possible.

Regards,

Lucius Malfoy”

You read the letter once through, then twice, then once more. Your mind was in a flurry at the words, taking them in and the weight they held. Draco’s parents had agreed to give you a chance, however it came with a price and one you were in two minds about taking. 

On one hand, you could be with Draco and support him through whatever hell was coming your way, as long as you abided by their blood purity mania, which, if Harry was right, meant Voldemort. On the other hand, it meant not having the Malfoy boy in your life.

Your eyes finally left the words and flicked back up to meet Draco’s own. His expression was unreadable as he waited for your reaction.

“Well, that’s intense”

“You can’t really expect anything less from my father.”

“I gathered that.”

Your eyes landed on the elder Malfoy’s name once more and you bit your lip slightly. 

“I said once I would be willing to get mixed up in this for you, and I stand by it, Draco. I don’t know whatever's going to happen in the future but I know I want you by my side through it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that-“

“You’re not asking me, I’m telling you I want you and I’ll do whatever it takes to be at your side.”

“Y/N-”

“Draco, I love you, let me do this for you. I can play whoever your parents want me to be.”

Draco didn’t say anything more but stared at you with a half smile on his face. Your eyebrows knitted together as you caught sight of it, not really sure where the expression came from. Talking about faking your views on blood purity and Voldemort wasn’t really a cause for smiling.

“What?”

“Say it again?”

“Say what again?”

“You love me.”

You realised then. You’d told him you loved him in amidst all that but you hadn't even realised it. Well, that’s one way to admit it. 

“I love you,” you said with no hesitation as a smile grew on your own face. “I want you, for real. No fake relationship, just us.”

As quick as you’d finished speaking, Draco’s lips were on yours. It was chaotic, unscripted and messy, but it was real. 

Your hands slid to the back of his head, fingers burying themselves in his hair as his hands gripped your waist tightly, pressing you to him. He kissed you with such passion you swore your heart stopped for a split second.

How the hell had you both faked this for so long?!

Taking a break, he pulled away but rested his forehead on yours, not wanting too much distance. 

“If you’re all in Y/N, so am I. I’ll protect you with my life, you may’ve been my friend first, but you’re everything to me now.”

His lips pressed against yours again, much softer this time like he was trying to memorise and convince himself you were really there. That this was really happening.

“Draco Malfoy, I’m all in.”

You were surprised the next day for two reasons.

One; for how many people had actually bet on Draco’s and your relationship. George got his five galleons back from Fred again after the news reached them. He happily took the money from his brother before lifting his glass to you from across the hall in thanks. 

Both Crabbe and Goyle owed Blaise 10 galleons, though you supposed he had an unfair advantage, (not that you’d tell the duo). 

But the second thing which surprised you was the letter you received at lunch from the headmaster himself. 

Dumbledore had barely even looked in your direction, let alone spoken to you personally, so the note you got from him asking to meet him in his office later spiked your anxiety. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Hermione shrugged before lowering her voice to a whisper. “It’s probably something to do with the DA or Umbridge.”

“Hermione, I didn’t even think he knew I existed, now he’s asking me to come have a chat?”

“Just go, you’ll never know otherwise and you’ll keep fretting.”

The rest of your day passed quickly and you found yourself before the headmaster’s office later that evening. Taking another quick look at the note in your hand, scribbled at the bottom was a comment about him liking sherbet lemons which stuck out to you.

“Sherbet lemons?”

The gargoyle surprised you by jumping out the way, opening up the staircase to you. Without another thought, you climbed the stairs and knocked on the wooden door. 

“Come in.”

Pushing the door open, Dumbledore turned to face you as you entered the room. With a smile, he greeted you and offered you the seat opposite him as he took his own.

Sitting, your knee started to bounce while your anxiety kicked in wondering what the hell was going on. 

“Y/N- can I call you Y/N? Relax, you’re not in any trouble at all, don’t worry.”

“Can I ask then, why am I here sir?”

“Well, I actually have a job for you if you’re interested? I understand you’re in a unique position where you’re willing to do anything possible to be with the young Mr Malfoy.”

You immediately frowned, how the hell did he know that?!

“What kind of job?”

“A job to join the Order of the Phoenix. I want you to act as a spy for me within Voldemort’s ranks.”

[iloveitwhen]

how about tim and marinette jokingly planning world domination and then accidentally carrying it out (to the annoyance of the batfam)??

this was so fun to write and I hope it makes sense! Marinette and Tim are extremely delirious so it was hard to share their thoughts while also having it make sense to the readers... I hope you like it!

“Dick, stop lying! There’s no way we could have done that. There’s no way we “accidentally took over the world.” Do you really think the two of us could have taken out all seven JLA members?” 

“What day is it, Marinette?” Dick asks instead of answering her question. 

“Tuesday,” Tim answers for her. 

“And the number?”

“Nineteenth,” Marinette crosses her arms and looks at Dick impatiently. 

“It’s Saturday the 23rd,” he declares hotly. “Haven’t you been wondering why you’re so hungry this morning? The two of you have been sleeping for 32 hours and had been awake before that for almost an entire week with maybe an hour of sleep a day. But it’s ok! Because before you fell asleep we got you on camera admitting to everything that you’ve done and we have your notes, which you will have to decipher by the way because for some reason you thought it was a good idea to code everything in your notes and you are in so much trouble right now!” 

“Show us,” Marinette was now understandably a little concerned because she totally did have the weirdest dream last night. And was it really the 23rd?

Five minutes later Marinette is standing side by side with Tim watching a video on the bat computer of the two of them in the interrogation room while Dick is questioning them. 

Marinette’s head is resting on the table, clearly sleeping when Dick slams his hand on the table forcing her to snap her head up in alarm. 

“You are NOT going to sleep right now. The last time this happened you couldn’t remember a thing! Tell me everything and I’ll let you go to sleep.”

Tim who has already been sitting up but was still very much asleep and didn’t seem to be affected by Dick’s outburst snaps his eyes open. 

“How dare you!” he bellows causing Dick and Marinette to look at him in surprise, Marinette’s much more exaggerated than Dick’s, “We will never agree to these terms!”

There are a few moments of silence in the video and Tim makes a noise of embarrassment from the back of his throat while Marinette holds back laughter. 

“I wouldn’t laugh quite yet, Marinette,” Dick admonishes. 

“Wait I’m really tired though… ,” Marinette complains to Tim.

“Great!” Dick claps his hands together and turns his attention to Marinette, “after you tell me everything you can go to sleep.”

Marinette nods very seriously then takes a deep breath and shakes her shoulders as if she’s hyping herself up to start a race or lift some heavy weights. She looks at a point on the wall a few feet to the right of Dick’s head and begins speaking as if she is a narrator of a science documentary. 

Marinette cringes, some of the memories coming back to her like how she had believed she had one more mission, and that was to let the audience know the “trials and tribulations of their story” as she had so eloquently thought about it in her head. She watches as Video Marinette recounts their story remembering that she had believed it was a serious story and that the imaginary audience (that she wholeheartedly believed were watching) must understand this.  Her hand goes to her mouth in horror as she watches herself on the screen go silent and stare at the point behind Dick’s shoulder for several awkward minutes, several times throughout the video. She remembers she had been trying to portray the scene that was passing before her mind’s eye for the “audience” to see as well. Clearly it didn’t work. 

---

** italics indicate when Marinette is using her narrating voice and is staring into the “camera” 

** dashes indicate flashbacks

“It was an accident.” Marinette starts, “Really, truly an accident. You can’t blame two delirious teenagers with a combined two hours of sleep within 3 days and half a brain cell to share between them. Honestly you can’t judge them, it’s not their fault the Lustice Jeague- Justilea- Just- Justice. League. Fell for it. You just can’t. It’s not their fault the justice league-”

“Marinette.” Dick interrupts.

“Right. Did I already say that? Well, anyways, point is. Not their fault….” 

-------

Marinette pops her head suddenly and looks conspiratorially at Tim, “Hey.”

“Hmm,” not stopping his clacking away at his computer. 

“Did you know Superman’s biggest weakness is Lois Lane?”

Time grunts in response as if saying, “yeah, what about it?”

“Like, he would literally be incapable of doing anything if Lois Lane was in trouble, like if Lois Lane disappeared so would Superman.” 

“Yeah that’s crazy,” still clacking away at his computer. 

“And do you know what Batman’s biggest weakness is?” 

“Superman?” 

Marinette giggles, “that’s funny. No, his pants.” Tim’s finger’s still as he processes what Marinette just said. “Think about it. If batman has no pants then he would disappear as well. Do you really think Batman would show up anywhere if he had no pants?” A pause. “Batman must really love his pants,” Marinette adds thoughtfully.

Tim begins ferociously clacking away on his computer again. “This is amazing,” he whispers, “we can use this against them! Amazing,” he says, whispering the last word with, well, amazement. 

“I know, right? We could like… take over the world with this information or something.” 

Tim gasps, finally turning to Marinette sprawled on his bed, “we totally could!” Suddenly he looks around and lowers his voice as if sharing a secret, as if there was anyone else besides Marinette to hear anyway. Marinette sits up and leans in excitedly, “we totally could,” he repeats. 

Marinette nods her head enthusiastically, “and we can totally give it back afterwards. Like, it’s no big deal. Just to like, prove we could.” 

Tim’s eyes grow wide and he nods his head with child-like excitement, “let’s do it.” 

-------

“24 hours later, now with 7 hours of sleep between them in four days, Marinette and Tim had developed the most bestestest plan to ever grace the mise of anyone, it was-”

“Mise?” Dick interrupts again, trying to figure out what she was saying. 

Marinette scrunches her face up, “My- mizzzee- my- m- myyy-nnnd. Mind.” She finally corrects then turns her focus back to the imaginary camera, “of anyone who ever lived. It was spectacular.”

“This is horrific.”

“Exactly. So horrible that it worked miraculously. I say that totally seriously. Seriously. No, I am not a miraculous, ask Ladybug.” Marinette then switches demeanor shifts in her seat and asks: “Ladybug?” she shifts in her seat again to slightly face the opposite direction and answers herself, “Yes?” She shifts again. “Are you a miraculous?” Shifts. “No. I am not.” Marinette looks back into the imaginary camera, “See? She says Marinette is not Ladybug….” she trails off for a moment, her head slowly dropping indicating she was very close to falling asleep. 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” Marinette snaps her head back up.

“Oh but it has. Tim and Marinette had targeted every single weak point of every JMLA member, the Jumpstice League stood no chance against the duo. Tim crafted a device that tracked Lois Lane, gathering any and all data on her to mimic her, including her heartbeat and scent so that Superman would be properly duped. Setting the trap in his very own house-” she suddenly cuts herself off and looks between Tim and Dick, “by the way did you know? That man is like, super weak to Kryptonite. It would have been so much easier to know that in the beginning. And also that he has a cousin? She’s very pretty, right, Tim?” She turns to her boyfriend who is looking at her with a soft smile.

“Mmhm. You’re very pretty.” 

Marinette ignores him and continues, “So Tim and Marinette trapped him in a cage of kryptonite-”

“You did WHAT!?”

“-and he totally passed out, the two heroes are still a bit confused why he was making such a big deal about it.” Marinette pays no mind to Dick as he reaches out and shakes his hands like he wants to strangle her neck.  “Tim then crafted a signal miminicking a detest call-”

“Distress,” Dick corrects. 

“-distress call from Themyscira rendering Wonder Woman unavailable. Unfortunately for her and fortunately for us it was her birthday and since I’m good friends with Momma Wonder,” she abruptly turns to Dick and points a finger at him as if he was a five year old in trouble and adds: “that’s Queen Hipopotolia to you, Mister,” before turning back, “they threw her a total rager,” again changing her demeanor and rolls her eyes “which I’m missing right now by the way, so she’ll be gone for a few more days, those gals really know how to party…. 

“Then the Flash. He was easier than the two expected, they meanly- I mean merely, well, meanly too- slapped a speed force inhibitor around his wrists. He couldn’t tap into the speed force to vibrate through it, he couldn’t cut it off, he would definitely die including everyone else in a mile radius-” Marinette swivels her head to Dick and smacks the table,”-nuclear bombs are SUPER dangerous by the way, you really don’t want to mess with them. 

“He couldn't contact anyone, any electric device he came across was rendered useless due to Tim’s genius, once again. 

“You’re so smart, baby, they couldn't have done this without you,” she adds out of the blue looking at Tim with a proud smile 

“Mhmm. You’re so pretty,” he repeats while Dicks drops his head into his hands. 

“They knew the Flash had friends so they did what they had to and locked him in one of those big containers that you sometimes see on trains and sometimes see on big ships and is currently in the middle of the ocean. Also that inhibitor thingy works as a shock collar too so like screaming electrocutes him preeeetty bad.”

“If the JLA doesn’t kill the both of you, I will.”

“The Martian Manhunter, well, you know what they say, show, don’t tell…. Marinette looks deep into the “camera” willing it to see what she was seeing.

--------

“J’onn J'onzz.” The green alien turns around to find two young adults who looked uncharacteristically professional, hands clasped behind their straight backs and serious expressions.

“...Ladybug. Red Robin. What can I do for you?” J’onn places an alien piece of tech down to focus on the two of them. Unfortunately he could not read Ladybug’s mind when she was in the suit and Red Robin’s mind was a mess of noises and jumbled thoughts that made no sense whatsoever, except one that was a bit louder than the rest and was repeated like a mantra. 

Christmas eve, 1998. 

J’onn tensed, “What do you want,” he demanded more than asked, overly concerned about how and why that thought was in Red Robin’s mind. 

“Nothing. Exactly that. Nothing,” Ladybug responded. “We need you to leave, to go somewhere for a few days and to not resurface or interfere in any way, shape, or form. And in return we will delete anything and everything that ever existed on Christmas Eve of 1998. It’ll be like it never existed.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

Ladybug suddenly broke her composure and groaned. “Oh come oooon, We promise no one will get hurt!” she linked her hands together and gave the Martian a pout, “pleeaaseee?” 

“The last time you two were like this you “accidentally” created a multimillion dollar company solely based on cosplay.” Ladybug was not phased and Tim was still chanting Christmas Eve, 1998 in his head, the boy probably wasn’t even aware time had passed since he got there. J’onn sighed, whatever they were up to it probably wasn’t too big of a deal. “Fine. But I want proof everything is deleted.” 

“Yess, it’s a deal, big man. See you in a few days! C’mon Tim.” 

“Can I stop repeating that thing in my head now?”

------

“Marinette.”

She breaks and looks at Dick impatiently, “I’m telling a story right now, what do you want?”

“You’ve been staring at the wall for 5 minutes straight, where is Martian Manhunter?”

“Oh I don’t know, he should be back on Tuesday though,” she shrugs and nods at the same time but like a switch has been flipped she is serious again. “As for Aquaman? Well, he has his own problems in the undersea. As you know the detective of Justice is Batman, Aquaman? Not much of a detective at all. But, having a mystery that needed to be solved in the undersea would have to be done with the bat’s assistance. However, Batman had his own problems to mace. 

“Face?”

“Yes. A problem that he will never be able to solve without asking for little help of his own. Unfortunately for him, his pride and dignity was on the verge of devolution- devil- devolve… ded- destru- destruction! Also all communication to Alfred was severed and he was sent to the Bahamas to relax since Tim and Marinette promised that since Batman would not be able to be fight he would be safe.”

“Ohhh is that where he went? No wonder there was no breakfast this morning.” Tim drops his hand supporting his face and looks at Marinette in wonder. 

“Babe we went over this like one time, you should know this.”

“Oh, right, yeah… I still haven’t eaten.” Tim lays his head down on his arm sadly and promptly falls asleep. 

“And last, and definitely least, Green Lantern. Marinette, miraculoused in her all-black ninja suit- wait no- no miraculous involved, it was just black clothes,” Marinette trailed off and snorted. “I really just stole the Green Lanterns ring… It was uhhh, it was actually kind of easy….

“Marinette had slipped the ring from Hal’s hand and put it on her own, quickly and quietly slipping out the way she came but not before taking the battery thing that powers the ring and stealing every single cup in the house. The ring had then proved useful as it assisted in Marinette’s journey.”

“Wait. How?” 

Marinette shrugs as if it weren’t such a big deal when it definitely was. “I don’t know, it actually gave me a little speech about going to Goodwill and then told me I was a lantern. Wait, do you think someone would have bought me if I posed as a lantern…? Oh yeah! I totally had a green suit and everything, it was crazy. Look! I still have it,” she stuck her hand out to show Dick, the thick green ring almost making contact with his face as she practically jumped over the table to show him. “I don’t want to give it back to Hal though it’s like… a really cool ring,” she says sadly as she sits back down, not giving Dick an actual chance to look at the ring. 

“Ok. Ok.” Dick drags a hand through his hair in frustration. “What about batman? Where is he?”

Marinette shoots both of her hands up and points at the one way mirror behind Dick’s head, “Boom! Right behind ya in that there mirror.” Then she again turns to the imaginary camera to continue her saga.

“Batman. The easiest, yet most difficult. The smartest, yet most helpless. And though Marinette and Tim wish they could have said they did it alone, they desperately needed the help of a certain… seductress.” 

---

Selena Kyle leans a hip into the counter of a kitchen, quietly making tea when a dark red and black tangle of something falls through an open window and crashes onto the floor, bumping into the family dining table and rattling the vase of wilting flowers. Selena curses loudly and goes to flee but realizes what, or rather who the pile of dark red and is. It’s Red Robin and Ladybug, otherwise known as Tim Drake and Marinette Dupain-Cheng. 

The two groan loudly and clumsily untangle themselves and flop on the ground next to each other apparently too lazy to stand up at the moment. 

“Hey,” Ladybug says, moving her head to the side to look at the standing woman. 

“Hey,” Selena takes a sip of her tea and almost laughs when she realizes that Red Robin had either been knocked out or  had simply fallen asleep. 

Ladybug’s words are slurred together when she says, “we need your help,” while slowly blinking. Either she was on something, very drunk, or very sleep deprived. Knowing the two of them and considering Red Robin was fast asleep on the floor it was probably the sleep deprivation. 

Selena acts as though she’s considering it even though she would help regardless, whatever it was these two were planning she wanted in. 

“Only if you agree to owe me a favor.” 

Ladybug (who had closed her eyes for a moment) snapped her eyes open and grinned, quite evilly, “what we’re planning will be favor enough.” Then, as if the conversation had ended, rolled her head around taking her surroundings in, “this isn’t your house.” 

Selena chuckles, “no it’s not, but you found me here anyways.”

“Ohhhhh, right I forgot about that, do you know the person who owns this house?” Selena shakes her head and Marinette hums in response, wandering her eyes over the kitchen. “So what do you say about the pant situation?” 

“The what?”

------

“The mystery woman had easily fallen for the trap. With her help, Tim and Marinette had almost succeeded in world domination, all that was left was to carry out the plans….”

---

Dick pauses the video and turns to the two heroes who were blushing furiously and fidgeting, waiting until they could bolt. 

“I thought you were going to sit there for a few more minutes then start talking again but you just kept sitting there until I realized you had fallen asleep with your eyes open.” He huffed and started to type into the computer again. “You’re lucky none of the JLA members got hurt or that this-” he clicks a file “video did not get out to the world.”

Ladybug and Red Robin stand in a professional stance with hands clasped behind their backs, they were standing slightly off-center of the screen with an empty JLA table behind them.  

“Good evening, world. I am Ladybug.”

“And I am Red Robin.”

“We have single handedly disposed of the JLA.”

“They will no longer terrorize our world-”

“Burn down our cities-”

“Trample us underfoot-”

“Wait-” Ladybug breaks character and turns to Red Robin, “are we describing Godzilla?”

Red Robin furrows his brow for a moment before bursting out in laughter, grabbing onto Ladybug and dragging her down into hysterics as well. They fall to the floor out of view of the camera but their guffaws are still spilling over the speakers very loudly. 

Several minutes later they stand up, wiping their tear-streaked cheeks.

“Anyways,” Red Robin continues, a chuckle still present in his voice, “We totally have taken over the world and you!” he points into the camera.

“Are!” Ladybug repeats his movement.

“Under our control!” they chorus together, pointing their thumbs at themselves as if this were some sort of disney channel ad, some sort of joke and that they hadn’t just literally threatened world domination, hadn’t just succeeded in world domination. 

They held the pose for a moment before Red Robin relaxed, Ladybug held her pose and continued to look into the camera while Red Robin reached up and paused the video.

“Luckily,” Dick begins, “You streamed the video straight to your own computer and not to the entire world, and luckily, you left your computer open on the dining tables for Duke to see it and for the rest of us, minus Jason,” he adds hotly, “to fix your mess.” 

“At least you caught the perpetrator?” Marinette adds helpfully, her voice going up like a question and her face scrunched up hoping that the comment would placate Dick.

It did not. 

Bonus:

Dick has both Marinette and Tim sitting side by side in an interrogation room, Tim is smiling and staring at Marinette with hearts in his eyes and sighing happily every once in a while Marinette is staring intently at the wall a few feet to the right of Dick’s head and talking as if she were the narrator of the documentary of her Tim’s “adventure” of literally taking over the world. 

“This is insane.” Bruce Wayne whispers behind the one way glass with a towel wrapped around his waist, every single pair of pants he owned was still missing. And would continue to be missing until he admitted he needed help, the rest of the batfam had collectively agreed to not help him until he asked for help, much to Bruce’s chagrin. 

Bonus Bonus: 

The video is shaky but clear, it’s facing a dingy empty stage with a lone mic stand in the middle at what seems to be Karaoke night in an even dingier bar. The crowd is mostly quiet save for the buzz of conversation until the start of “Fantasy” by Mariah Carey starts and everyone cheers. The camera violently shakes and Hal Jordan’s voice booms through the speakers,

“Let’s go babyyyyy!!” 

A few moments later and J’onn J’onzz, in his human form, hops onto the stage clearly hammered and most definitely not in control of his actions. He dances awkwardly around the stage until the first lyrics on the screen behind him light up. 

“Oh when you walk by every night, talkin sweet and lookin fine, I get kinda hectic inside,” along with the words he points to someone in the crowd then puts the back of his hand to his forehead to indicate “swooning”. 

“Oh baby, I’m so into you,” he clumsily hops off the stage and staggers over to someone at one of the front tables. The video zoomed in for a bit and focuses on the woman who briefly looks around her table with a laugh and she raises her strong arms, welcoming the drunk martian. 

“Darling, if you only knew,” J’onn’s smile was so wide and he laughed into the mic instead of singing the next few lyrics. He forced Wonder Woman’s chair from the table with his telekinesis, and with an excessive amount of exaggeration he circled the chair, dragging his hand over her face. The other women, more Amazons by the looks of their arms, pounded the table howling in laughter. 

“But it’s just a sweet, sweet fantasy, baby, When I close my eyes, you come and take me,” he circles to her front and boops her nose as he sings “take me” before turning around and facing the stage. 

“On and on and on,” he looks back at Wonder Woman seductively and winks, “it’s so deep in my daydreams,” he hops back on the stage, “but it’s just a-” his foot gets tangled in the mic’s cords and his voice is cut off when he tries to save himself from smashing into the ground. 

He fails. 

Laughter erupts in the bar and the camera is slammed onto a table and Hal’s wheezing is heard above the others before the video cuts off.

phew *wipes brow* that was... actually a loooooottttt, but I hope it made you laugh and i really hope it wasn’t confusing to read! *smiles awkwardly and waves* byee....

[sunshinereddie]

Bestie it’s me again, sorry I am literally crazy and every song I listen to is so Reddie coded…

Anyway, this song is sooooo reddie <3

I’m thinking abt the fact that this song came out in 1989 (originally performed by Tina Turner) and how I’m SURE it was playing somewhere and Richie’s mind j produced a neon sign blinking incessantly “YOU LOVE EDDIE KASPBRAK” at him. And Yk, he’s 13 and he has a big fat crush so of course he likes the song on the down low (bc if anyone knew how much this song meant to him, how much Eddie meant to him, he’d probably die of embarrassment).

Anyway, fast forward to now, it’s a Friday morning and Eddie is at home with him on a rare day off. He’s humming the song under his breath (the billianne version) while making some coffee for them both, catching Eddie’s attention suddenly. He lets out a little laugh and shoots Richie a small smile, “Tina Turner? Really?” And Richie is momentarily stunned bc for one, he hadn’t even realized he’d been humming it, and two, he didn’t think Eddie even knew that song. the blush creeps up his neck against his will, immediately stammering out a placating response about “oh yeah, you know, the 80s and what not” accompanied by an awkward laugh. Of course eddie is still smiling and he has this look in his eyes, an exasperated kind of fondness.

Then, with that smile still firmly in place he says, “you don’t have to be embarrassed Rich, Tina Turner is hardly your worst musical inclination… besides, that song always kinda reminded me of you” and suddenly he’s shy. he’s always been so brave, it only makes sense he was the one to be vulnerable (even if he gets a little bashful in the moment).

Richie though, he’s stunned and gaping at Eddie like he’d grown a second head. Because that can’t be right. That’s is supposed to be HIS embarrassing little song for Eddie. But the shock melts away almost as quickly as it came, and suddenly he’s laughing. Laughing so hard tears burn behind his eyelids as Eddie sputters and kicks his shin with a small, muttered “asshole, though he’s smiling too.

Richie goes to him then, hugging him hard and long. Eddie melts into it despite the childish embarrassment he feels settling in his gut. “I used to listen to that song on repeat when it came out, thinking about how hard it was to be in love with my best friend.” Richie admits quietly into Eddie’s hair. He feels the shorter man tense slightly before sinking even more into Richie’s embrace. Like if he hugged him hard enough they’d meld together and become one.

They stay like that, long after the sun rises and the coffee goes cold. Swaying gently as Richie hums the song into Eddie’s hair. :,)

(Okay sorry I’m going crazy in ur inbox I j feel more comfortable rambling to u bc I know you get it! :,) )

- 🫀

AAAAAHHHBEFLAJWEBFLAWDFALWHBF[o

this is so good. SO SO SO GOOD !!!!! first of all, this song??? YES. second, this song for richie and his hopeless-romantic-teenage-crush on eddie ??? double yes. third, them having the same teenage crush song ??!?!??!? TRIPLE YES and fourth ????? them only finding out about it years and years later by accident ?!???!??? im on the floor sobbing

also the idea that richie was always embarrassed about the whole thing, having a silly little song about his crush, until the finds out that it was eddie's song about HIM as well ???? and then he doesn't feel embarrassed anymore, but rather he only grows to love the song even more ???? BECAUSE NOW IT'S NOT HIS SONG IT'S THEIR SONG ??!????!??!??!!?? ksdjrbgslkejrbglseb this post electrocuted me in the best way

ok heartie (that's my nickname for u hehe) PLSSS tell me you write fics because,,,,,,, THESE ARE SO GOOD like actually i get so much enjoyment out of reading your asks they are incredible. if you do or ever do write fics and feel comfortable sharing them PLS DO i would love to read more of your writing <3

[kiwi-the-first]

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower. 

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded. 

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love. 

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

--

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore. 

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

--

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

 He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze. 

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today". 

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

--

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too" 

Huh?

Oh- 

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would. 

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself. 

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

--

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since. 

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his. 

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth. 

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies. 

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you. 

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

:)

[marty101sblog]

17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a

class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told

his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever

wrote.." It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving

home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen Pierce Road in

Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck

unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family

portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think

we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of

the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life

after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see

him."

Brian's Essay: The Room...

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room.

There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with

small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list

titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which

stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction,

had very different headings. As I drew near the wall of files, the first to

catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and

began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that

I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I

knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my

life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a

detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled

with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and

exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense

of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if

anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The

titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read,"

"Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some

were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my

brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger",

"Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be

surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I

hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could

it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these

thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth.

Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the

files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet

after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it,

shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew

that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through

my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size

and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content.

I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal

rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these

cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane

frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it

and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the

floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out

a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my

forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it... The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel with."

The handle was brighter than those around it, seemed newer, almost unused. I

pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell

into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand.

And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They

started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I

cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of file

shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this

room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the

tears, I saw Him.

No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as

He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His

response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw

a sorrow deeper than my own.

He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read

every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He

looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger

me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again.

He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things.

But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of

the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over

mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say

was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these

cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, and so alive. The

name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took

the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. I don't

think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it

seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side.

He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up,

and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were

still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil. 4:13 "For God

so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him

shall not perish but have eternal life." If you feel the same way forward it

so the love of Jesus will touch their lives also. My "People I shared the

gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

You don't have to share this with anybody, no one will know whether you did

or not, but what do you feel in your heart? .....I pulled this from my other page. Please feel free to share this❤