#no this isn't late what are you talking about

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied noncon, break-up, toxic relationship, crazy ex-boyfriend, intrusive thoughts, anger issues

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about gamer boyfriend who doesn’t know what he has before it’s gone…

You told him you were leaving, but it didn’t dawn on him that’s what you’d meant. He was deep in-game—he couldn't pay attention to your whining. He figured you went out to the store or something, but later, after midnight, he realized he was hungry, and you were nowhere. Not in the kitchen making dinner, not in his bed sleeping, and not in the bathroom either. 

Did you go home? He wonders, standing alone in the dark, empty silence—feeling a little put off at the sight of his room—how even in the dim light, it’s a clear fucking mess. You usually tidy up a bit for him, but you hadn’t this time—no, there’s old underwear and socks everywhere, shirts and hoodies too, empty cans and pizza boxes. It’s a bit gross, actually, he admits while scratching his neck. 

The drawer he’d dedicated to you in his dresser is open and empty. Did you take everything to get it cleaned? You are a bit of a neat freak—unlike him. Suppose that would be something you’d do. Weird of you not to take any of his laundry as well, though.

Oh, well. He shoots you a “gn bby” on his phone, then collapses on his bed and falls asleep—smiles a bit as he does so—it’s nice not having you here to tell him to undress and go shower first. Yeah, you can be such a nag sometimes.

He wakes up late in the day. You’re not there. Usually, you come over to wake him with some breakfast. He checks his phone—you didn’t reply last night. It isn't that weird—you were probably already asleep at that point. But why didn’t you answer when you woke up? There’s no way you’re still asleep, right? 

Fuck, he’s hungry.

“gm,” he sends—contemplates asking you what’s up but doesn’t. You must be busy with something not to have checked your phone yet.

The entire day goes by, and you still don’t answer. He doesn’t take it too hard. But he won’t deny being a bit miffed.

It’s when three days go by that he’s well and truly confused. He’s sent you several texts at this point, even called you a few times, getting a little worried something had happened to you before he got the message that he’d been blocked. 

What the fuck’s going on with you?

He thinks back to the last time he saw you. What did you even say? He can’t remember. Something about being tired—something, something—I’m leaving.

He swallows thickly. No… No way, that’s what you meant, right? No, can’t be. You love him. You’re his pretty girlfriend. The one that comes with his food and later comes back for his bowl. The one that sucks his dick under his desk as he goes on a kill streak. The warm pillow he uses when he finally drags his bad posture to the bed and falls asleep.

No. Where the fuck are you? Are you sick or something? Yeah, must be, right? So delirious you’ve managed to block him somehow. You were probably only trying to call him back. You were never so tech-savvy—a fever must have worsened it. He should go to you. He can bring his pc. Or no, he can get you and bring you back here. Yeah, that would be easier.

He calls your roommate, tells her he’s coming, and asks her to let you know to get ready.

“What are you talking about?” she says through a piece of gum—her voice all dull as if bothered to have picked up the phone. Or, rather, she sounds a bit drunk. There’s music in the background. “Girl broke up with you, didn’t she?”

His blood runs cold at that. A lump forms in his throat—a thick, unmovable lump that makes him think he’s about to throw up. “N-no, she didn’t.”

“Hey!” she calls out, not to him, though—she’s covered the mic with her hand. He only hears the muted distortion of voices and bass through it before your roommate comes back to him. 

“Sorry—she’s telling me a different story,” she relays, popping her gum in his ear before sneering—or, at least, that’s what he pictures. “Honestly, how long did you think she was gonna put up with cleaning up after you anyway? I know I wouldn’t last half as long as she has.” The lump in his throat grows thicker, swelling up until it's choking him. “Anyway, good luck.”

She hangs up, and he drops his phone. There’s a crack as it hits the floor. And then something wet on his face. Something hot. Something searing as it tracks down his cheeks and drops off like acid onto the floor. 

What should he do? What do you want him to do? To tidy up? He can do that! He’s not some imbecile like your friend makes him out to be who can’t even do the basics of chores. Of course, he can! And so that’s what he does—hands shaking as he tidies. 

It feels foreign, and he’s not even sure where to start. And it quickly proves to be a lot worse than what he’d thought. Beyond stinky clothes and dirty dishes, there’s trash, rotten food, sticky surfaces, and other things he can’t even put a name to. It’s gross, actually. Downright disgusting. How long’s it been like this?

Even after everything’s put in order, there’s a smell that lingers and no end to the dust he has to clean—cringing at the little insects that come crawling out of their hiding spots. Geez—has it really been this bad?

He falls asleep on the floor at some point—having completely forgotten to eat—then wakes up feeling awful the next day. The kitchen is barren, and so he orders take-out. Eats and then goes back to cleaning. There’s still a lot left.

It’s barely recognizable once he’s done. Nice and bright and tidy and clean. There’s a sum of a dozen large black trash bags in the hallway he needs to take out, but other than that, everything’s perfect—perfectly presentable to have you come over again.

Still, he gives it a couple of days. He knows you. You’re going to change your mind. You’re too sweet to be breaking up with him. Too nice. You wouldn’t just leave him, not like this. Yeah, you’re only trying to teach him a lesson—after a while, you’ll come back on your own. You’ll be ecstatic over what he’s done with the place—apologetic even as you tell him you were wrong about him—and then everything will go back to normal. Make-up sex and everything. 

But you don’t. No. You’re nowhere to be seen or found—even after a week’s passed. You’re still gone. And he’s starting to believe you might just be gone for real.

No. He sees what this is. You’re waiting for the grand gesture, aren’t you? He never knew you could be so petty—but it’s actually kind of cute. Fine then. He’ll play along—come crawling to you on his hands and knees with the best apology you’ve ever heard. And then you can end this whole thing.

And so he finds himself at your place, pressing the buzzer, not knowing if he’s catching you at home—if not, he’ll just try again tomorrow, and so on until he does. He hears someone at the other side of the door—they must be looking at him through the peephole. It takes a while before the locks click and open.

“Hey…”

It’s you. 

“Hi,” he smiles in return, happy to see you. He’s been so nervous, but somehow, your face and voice are enough to calm him down.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Oh, of course. You weren’t expecting him. Still, it feels weird of you not to gush happily over the surprise and rush him inside. It’s not every day he goes outside—you should be a little impressed.

But no, of course, you’re playing the part of fed-up girlfriend—acting hard-to-get. He’s got you—he’ll play his part, so don’t worry.

“I wanted to apologize,” he announces. “I haven’t been a good boyfriend—I see that now. But I’ll be better from now on, I promise—come over, and I’ll prove it to you.”

As far as apologies and promises go, he thinks that sounded pretty smooth—not too desperate, not too demanding. Pretty slick, if he can say so himself.

And so, why aren’t you smiling? He can understand being nervous—so is he—but why do you look guilty?

“That’s really nice. And… I’m really happy you’re looking better. But…” you start, and his gut’s already wrenching. “I think you need more time for yourself to just… enjoy what it’s like to be independent, you know?” 

No, he doesn’t know. What are you saying? And why are you holding onto the doorknob like that? Holding it steady as if you’re planning to shut it as soon as you can—why?

“Thanks for stopping by. It was nice seeing you—it really was. Take care of yourself, okay?”

It’s shutting—his plans—disappearing right before his face. He knows he isn’t owed a second shot, but this isn’t fair. You can’t be serious—are you?

“What? No, wait—” He stops you, weighing his own hand on the door, keeping it open. “Listen, I’m good now. I’ve pulled it together, you’ll see—I’ll come in, and we’ll talk about it.”

You resist, using both hands to almost push the door back on him. “I have company, so—”

“What’s up?” another voice announces himself—deep and presentful. He comes into view behind you—taller than you, taller than him—looking down his nose at him with a raised brow. “Who’s this?”

You look a bit panicked—no, embarrassed. “Oh, uhm—”

Why are you embarrassed? “Who’s that?” The bitterness in his voice surprises even himself—loaded with the same type of spite he seethes with when players use cheats to win.

“He’s an old friend, but he was just leaving,” you say, but you’re not speaking to him. No, you stroke a hand over the guy’s broad chest, looking up at him apologetically before turning back to him again, voice strict in a way he’s never heard, “Bye.”

“But—”

You shut the door. On him. In his face. 

His skin crawls—goosefleshed and chilled. Was that a date? No, right? You have a brother, don’t you? Yes, must be. No way you’re dating. There’s no way, right? It’s only been a week… no way you’ve moved on in only a week, right?

You looked really nice—wearing that sweet blouse with all the little bows and that cute little skirt you’d always wear out on dates. Damn, when was the last time the two of you went on a date? Must be months ago, if he can’t even remember. 

Come to think of it, the two of you would always have sex when you wore that skirt. Yeah, it’s your fuck-me-skirt. Are you going to fuck this guy too now? On the first date? Is it your first date? No, probably not—who has their first date at home? That’s more like a third or even fourth or fifth date, right? Were you dating him while the two of you were still together? Have you been cheating on him all this time? Laughing at him behind his back—talking shit with your bitch-roommate? About what a pathetic loser he is? About how he’s a slob who can’t take care of himself? How he needs you? Have you!?

He shouldn't be texting you all this from a random number. He knows that, but the full realization doesn’t dawn on him before it’s too late, and he’s sent you over a hundred messages, some small and others at such a length they take up more than what the screen allows. What the fuck’s he doing? He’d bought the new sim so that he could contact you in an emergency, not to spam you with accusations like some crazy ex. 

He starts deleting them—in some desperate wishful thinking, with the hope you wouldn’t see them, but then the dotted line starts beating, jumping in taunt. His eyes are wide as he stares at it, holding his breath. Ten seconds pass before it disappears—no message sent.

You blocked him again. And he can’t blame you.

And yet, he can’t let you go, either. 

He spends the first few weeks hauled up at home—his flat becoming as trashed as ever as he doomscrolls all your socials through a fake account. You’ve deleted all the pictures of him—even the ones of yourself when you’ve been with him. There’s no evidence the two of you were even dating.

How could you do this? How could you erase him like this?

He has questions, and he needs answers. You can’t just do this—the two of you haven’t even had the talk—he hasn’t even got to say his side yet!

He just wants to talk to you—why won’t you let him? He just wants you to hear him out. He deserves that much. But since you’re not giving him any option of contacting you, he’s had to resort to medieval methods—lurking outside your apartment like some creep, eyes peeled on your building’s entrance, waiting for you to show.

He’s there for hours, patiently—refusing to go home—thinking he’ll be there all night if he has to.

But then there you are—coming out of the complex, stepping down the alley, dressed all nice for the night. You seem to be in a hurry—are you on your way to another date? Well, wherever you’re going and whoever you’re meeting, they can wait.

“I need to talk—” he doesn’t get the words out.

You’d noticed him following you and tried to out-pace him—make him lose interest. But the area your flat’s situated in is a sketchy one—at least for girls, and you’d made the decision long ago that you’d never walk outside unprepared. And so, as soon as feeling the stranger's hand on your arm, you whip around to maze him right in the face.

“Argh!” he screeches and stumbles back, hands covering his eyes. “Fuck—ow-fuckin’dammit, shit—what the fuck did you do that for? Fuck—”

You were going to make a run for it, but the familiar voice has you halt—wait a minute…

You call his name, and sure enough, it’s him who looks up at you through the teary redness of your pepper spray assault. 

“Oh my god, shit—I’m so sorry—I thought you were a—” you stop yourself. “Fuck—never mind. Come—” You link his arm with yours and lead him back inside the apartment you just left. “I’ll help you rinse—I’m so sorry.”

You rush him to the bathroom, seating him atop the toilet lid as you wet a cloth and start soaking his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you—” you apologize again. “Are your eyes okay?”

“Not really,” he hisses through clenched teeth, though steals himself soon after. “But they're getting better…”

His face unswells after a good thirty minutes, after which he’s able to keep his eyes open again—sore and no doubt bloodshot, yet fine, if not for that. You’ve moved him into the living room instead, having done what you could to rinse off your attack—having provided him with an apologetic glass of water. Now sitting with him, waiting for the effects to wear off.

It feels nice to be with you again despite the circumstances—but it’s awkward how you don’t speak.

“You look nice,” he says—trying to break the tension. It’s not as if the two of you are strangers, and so you shouldn’t act like it.

“Oh, I’m going to a party—roomie’s already there, so…” you say, sitting at the edge of your seat. “If you’re okay, I should probably head out… soon.”

A silence fills his head, as well as the room—a heavy stillness before a single word leaves him. “What?” His face sinks—part confusion, part offense, and something else—something that makes his voice come out accusatory and outraged, “You maze me in the face, and you’re just gonna fuck off to a party?”

Your eyes widen.“Well… it’s—”

“No—what the fuck?” He stands abruptly. His head’s so empty except for the blinding darkness slowly overtaking it—leaving him feeling boiling and all but nuclear. “That’s all I get? Are you fucking serious?” He’s shouting now—and then he’s on you, with one hand fisting your pretty dress and another around your throat. “First, you dump me without warning, assault me like some maniac, give me a lousy apology, and then tell me to fuck off? What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

You splutter his name and push, but it’s like fighting a wall.

“Where are you actually going dressed like that, huh? What’s so fucking important? Is it another date? What, with that same oaf I saw here last time? Or is it someone new already? I know how flighty you can be. I mean, fuck, I knew you were a little freaky, but I didn’t know I was dating a fucking slut!”

His strength comes as a complete and utter devastating shock. You’d think sitting in a chair all day would make any muscle obsolete—but the hands holding you don’t right now is more than anything you could hope to fight against.

“Stop! Get off me—” you cry, thrashing hopelessly as he lifts your dress and rips your lace panty down your thighs. 

A growl in his voice and nothing but rage on his face.

“If anyone can get it—I might as well help myself.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Denki, Kirishima ♡ BLLK – Nagi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[muniimyg]

♡ 04: how you're lookin' at me, yeah, i know what that means and i'm obsessed

series m.list // taglist

note: a wild ride…. good luck y’all ,, THANKS FOR 1K 😻 my kitty is happy !!! hauwhahahahaa this part is lengthy so pls take a mfking SEAT. pls lmk what y’all think ,, send in asks 🫵 we’re headed towards the finale 💛 much wuv !!

warnings: tension/tampo vibes (whats that in english? lol) ,, male masturbation (jk gets himself off as he recalls oc slapping him) ,, jealousy (lots of it. like 90% of this part is filled with it) ,, oc has a hickey ,, angst ,, and a little mwaamwaaaa moment :')

//

life sucks. 

for jungkook, at least. 

it’s been almost a month since the incident, and you’ve done everything in your power to avoid him.

the memory of the fight—the words exchanged, the way he said your name—still lingers in the air between you like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.

at first, jungkook tried.

he texted you the next day and every day after that. his messages were hesitant and apologetic... and each one was left unanswered.

nerd [11:11PM]: ___, can we talk? sent nerd [11:28PM]: please? sent nerd [12:01AM]: i’m sorry. i mean it. sent nerd [12:03AM]: it wasn’t even like that. not with her.  sent nerd [1:09AM]: ik i’m gonna sound like a total douche no matter what so let me do it please sent nerd [1:15AM]: let me say sorry, let me fuck up, let me make it up to u sent nerd [2:01AM]: i really hate begging  sent nerd [2:01AM]: but i really hate u not wanting me even more seen

he did try to call though.

just once.

the ringtone barely lasted before he hung up, realizing how futile it was.

at one point, he showed up at your favorite coffee shop one afternoon. he sat alone by the window with an untouched drink, waiting. 

his eyes flicked to the door every time it opened, a glimmer of hope lighting his expression for a split second before fading when it wasn’t you.

after two hours, he left.

but now, almost four weeks later, jungkook has stopped trying (so hard).

it wasn’t a sudden decision, more of a gradual acceptance that whatever connection you’d shared—whatever you’d been to each other—was slipping through his fingers.

he told himself you needed time, that maybe this space was what you wanted, what you deserved. and so, he gave it to you.

he told himself it wasn’t the end. 

it couldn’t be.

he refuses for it to be. 

this is just… complicated. 

he gets that.

he's a smart guy after all!

but late at night, when the world was quiet and he was left alone with his thoughts, the weight of your absence pressed against his chest like an ache he couldn’t soothe. it... burns? it throbs in this aching rhythm that he can't quite figure the melody to.

jungkook thinks about the way you banter with him and how much it makes his day. how closely you sit next to him. how effortlessly you mesmerize him… 

how you flirted with him for a few days and now he's malfunctioning. how he spent the last month memorizing every detail of those days and can't get over it. he has convinced himself you're into him...  

like, remember how your fingers would brush his when you handed him something? that meant something, right? or how about the way you looked at him and tilted your head? shit, yeah.

that meant something.

fuck, the way you laugh and throw your head back and he gets a glance at your perfect neck—how he wants to leave kisses on it. how he… 

how he had you. 

for a moment, he really had you. 

under him, tangled, and messy. 

how he was so close to your lips. 

he should’ve kissed you. 

he should’ve locked the fucking door. 

he should’ve ran after you even more. 

but he didn’t…

and now? 

now you aren’t even around. 

he recalls what taehyung said to him night at the arcade. taehyung's words rub into his wound like salt. it stings. it makes him feel sick to his stomach and he just... get can't stomach it.

“she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull…”

there are no words to describe how incredibly helpless he feels.

if anything, he goes through circles in his mind; completely in disbelief he could fuck up this bad with you.

he hates that he can't think straight. he hates that he can't study properly. he hates that he stopped tutoring and even got in trouble with his profs for letting them down (they really counted on jungkook to help other students out).

he hates that he can't fucking breathe lately.

he can't sleep.

he can't eat.

jungkook hates the growing distance, but more than that, he hates how much it hurts.

he hates how much he wants to fix things even when he doesn’t know how. he just knows he wants to. god, fuck it—

fine. 

he hates how much he misses you.

but most of all, he hates that he was wrong. 

it was entirely his fault. 

jungkook hates it all.

by chance, you and jungkook run into each other. 

the scene is perfect.

it's the perfect set up to cry over when you get home—that is.

the rain starts just as you’re leaving the library, soft at first but quickly turning heavier. you don’t expect to see him—not here, not now—but there he is, standing under the awning of the café across the street, shaking out his umbrella. the door chimes as you step outside, and he looks up.

for a moment, neither of you move, caught in the heavy stillness of the moment.

jungkook freezes when he sees you. 

his eyes widen briefly, then soften into something cautious, hesitant. he tucks his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, fingers flexing nervously against the fabric as he steps forward.

“hey,” he says, his voice careful, like he’s offering a truce.

the sound of him makes your heart clench, the warmth in his tone threatening to undo you. but you don’t let it show. you nod once, lips pressed into a thin line, and move to step around him.

“wait—” his hand shoots out, not to grab you, just to stop you. his fingers hover midair, unsure if he even has the right to reach for you anymore. “___, please?”

the rain is falling harder now, pooling on the sidewalk and soaking into the edges of your shoes. you glance at him, taking in the way his hair clings to his forehead, the way his hoodie looks just a little too big on him, like he hasn’t been sleeping well or eating much.

“can you not pretend like this is a coincidence?” you ask quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. 

he stays silent. 

it wasn’t. 

truth be told, he’s been waiting outside for almost 45 minutes. he didn’t even know if you were at the library today… he just had to wait and find out for himself. 

"do you have an umbrella?" he asks, breaking the silence. 

"what—"

"here." 

he cuts you off, pushing the umbrella toward you.

you blink, startled, as he places the handle firmly in your hand. your fingers wrap around it instinctively, the metal cool against your palm.

"jungkook—" you start, your voice faltering.

he shakes his head, stepping back into the rain without a word. the downpour hits him almost instantly, soaking through his hoodie as he shoves his hands into his pockets and starts walking away.

you stand there, the umbrella trembling in your grip, watching him go. the rain comes down harder, cascading off the awning above you, but you barely notice. your gaze stays locked on him—on the way his shoulders hunch against the storm, on the slow but steady steps that carry him farther and farther away.

something tightens in your chest. 

maybe it’s regret or maybe longing… but as his figure grows smaller and the storm swallows him—you feel it.

the warmth of his lingering presence and the chill of it all—

—of your favourite almost.

a few days later, jungkook finds his umbrella in his bedroom. 

he takes out his phone to send you a text, prepared to humiliate himself and to beg for a second of your attention. he’d trade all tonight’s focus for a moment of you.

just as he picks the umbrella up, he finds a note. 

___ told me to give it back to you. she says thanks (whore). ps: she said don’t text her. — taehyung

jungkook sighs. 

does he listen? 

obviously not. 

nerd [6:19PM]: don’t tell me what to do  nerd [6:20PM]: i hate this nerd [6:21PM]: u should’ve jus kept the umbrella. giving it back to taehyung and telling him to tell me not to text u is sick.  seen. nerd [6:22PM]: reply pls seen.  nerd [6:26PM]: fine. i’ll jus talk to myself  nerd [6:31PM]: i miss u sm i jerked off the other night thinking abt the way u slapped me  seen nerd [6:33PM]: come on, kitty  nerd [6:34PM]: promise to think abt me tn :(  nerd [6:35PM]: cos i’m gonna think abt u tn nerd [6:36PM]: ignore me if u want proof  typing…  nerd [6:37PM]: kitty? seen nerd [6:40PM]: fuck. nerd [6:41PM]: how do u get me so fucking hard thru text? maybe i jus miss u too much  nerd [6:42PM]: excited for my proof?  seen nerd [6:45PM]: ft?  seen nerd [6:46PM]: keep seenzoning me and i’ll cum typing... seen ___ has notifications silenced

but it's too late.

jungkook meant it.

he's sat on his gaming chair, cock heavy.

his phone is out with that group picture from the arcade (zoomed into you) as lewd thoughts of you fill his mind. jungkook runs his thumb across his tip, hissing at the way it feels over his slit. 

he flicks his wrists, gripping his dick with just enough pressure to grow the hardness. it’s already stiff and he can feel the need to cum—but he just can’t.

he can’t without thinking of you. 

so, his eyes flutter shut as his memories of you replay in his mind. 

from the way your lips winced when he ate you out—to the way that mini skirt looked on you that day. he thinks about the way you say his name; in any and every way. angry, teasingly, and desperately… he thinks about how pretty it sounds rolling off your tongue. 

how pretty you looked under him.

how good you smelt when he kissed your neck. 

how close you sat next to him—fingertips lingering... god, what he would do to be close to you again. 

jungkook thinks about the slap. 

how hard your palms hit his cheek and how angry you looked at him. despite the negativity surrounding the situation—he can’t help it. 

you looked so hot. 

it just… gets to him. 

before he knows it, his hand is covered in his sticky cum. 

he’s a loser—a nerd in your words. 

he always has been… and here he is; jerking himself off to the pretty girl he lost his chance with.

the night is supposed to be nothing special. 

for jungkook, it’s just another event for his precious marine conservation club—a fundraiser, a schmooze-fest for potential investors, and a chance to hand out awards to appease the donors. sure, he’s getting an award, but it doesn’t feel like much.

the room buzzes with polite conversation and clinking glasses. jungkook adjusts his tie for the hundredth time, barely paying attention to the speeches and presentations. he stands off to the side with the other club members, blending into the background until his name is called.

“jeon jungkook, for outstanding contributions to marine conservation and innovation. mr. jeon has been working towards innovative chemical solutions for marine conservation, focusing on sustainable practices to protect endangered species like dolphins, and developing eco-friendly alternatives to reduce their environmental impact.”

the applause is polite but hearty.

jungkook steps onto the stage, the spotlight hitting him square in the face. as he accepts the plaque, his gaze instinctively sweeps over the audience—and then it stops.

you’re here.

sitting with the guys, casually chatting like you belong there, like you haven’t been avoiding him for a month and a half (at this point).

his heart trips over itself. 

he’s not even sure if it’s relief or panic or something else entirely, but it rattles him. he forces his attention back to the microphone, holding the plaque in his slightly sweaty hands.

“uh, thank you,” he begins, his voice steady enough, though his pulse is anything but. “our club’s mission has always been to protect and preserve marine life through education, community projects, and outreach. with this award…”

his eyes flick back to you. 

you’re laughing at something taehyung just said, your smile bright, your whole demeanor light and carefree.

“…we want to focus on…”

he falters, the words slipping from his mind as his gaze lingers on you.

“…we want to focus on… f-focus…”

a ripple of laughter spreads through the audience. someone whistles playfully. he blinks, startled back into the moment.

“…focus on sustainable practices and expanding our projects,” he finishes, clearing his throat as heat rises to his cheeks.

you’re laughing too, your head tilted slightly as you join the others. it should make him feel worse, but somehow, seeing you like that—smiling, present—grounds him.

he powers through the rest of the speech, keeping his gaze firmly away from where you’re sitting. when it’s over, he accepts the handshake from the host and makes his way offstage, barely registering the applause.

as soon as the ceremony ends, jungkook doesn’t even think. 

he weaves through the crowd, ignoring congratulatory pats on the back and comments from investors, his eyes scanning for you.

how did you know about tonight?

wait. 

shit.

he’s been texting you every day with random ass updates. of course you know. he’s yapped about it… but why? why did you come? don’t you hate his guts?

you're here so... maybe you don't hate him as much as he has convinced himself you do.

jungkook finds you near the back with the friend group, holding a glass of champagne and listening to hoseok animatedly retell a story.

“congratulations,” you say lightly, lifting your glass in a mock toast. your words are casual, but there's an edge to them, a distance you've kept between the two of you for far too long.

his chest tightens at the awkwardness of your tone, but he nods, his hands slipping into his pockets. the space between you feels impossibly wide now, though only a few feet separate you.

“thanks,” he says, his voice quieter than he intended. “... thanks for coming.”

his gaze flickers to yours for a second before dropping to the floor, and he shifts, a little uncertain, taking a half-step closer.

hesitantly, you inch back. 

his presence is suddenly overwhelming, more than you’re ready for.

“yeah… of course,” you murmur, unsure how to navigate the new dynamic between you two. the tension is thick, but there's something else there too. an unspoken history. “what are friends for, you know?”

he hates that. 

friends. 

yeah fucking right.

jungkook tries to break the tension.

he takes a risk.

he takes a small step forward, hoping you don’t move. this is the closest he’s gotten to you in over a month—he needs this. it’s like euphoria in his veins—being with you again.

he needs this.

“how have you been?” he asks, the question coming out softer than he anticipated. jungkook scratches the back of his neck and continues. “a-are you coming to the afterparty?”

your lips part, a pause hanging between you.

you don’t want to admit how much you’ve missed this. how much you’ve missed him.

but the words slip out, more natural than you expect.

“yeah,” you say, giving him a brief but warm look. “i’ll be there.”

for a moment, your eyes lock, and something shifts. 

it’s like you’ve both forgotten all the walls, the space between you collapsing. he can feel his heart rate quicken, like his knees might give out, but he forces himself to stay grounded, to act nonchalant.

“cool,” he says, trying to brush off the sudden rush of emotions. “i’ll.. i’ll be there too.” he smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes—not yet, anyway.

“i sure hope so,” you laugh. “it’s your party, nerd.”

nerd. 

holy shit. 

never has he ever felt so relieved to hear you call him that. 

as he’s about to say more, taehyung appears out of nowhere, slapping his arm and giving him a congratulatory squeeze. 

“hey, man, nice speech. well deserved,” taehyung says, grinning like an idiot. “what did you want to focus on, again?”

you laugh while jungkook rolls his eyes. he shoves taehyung playfully. 

suddenly, you can’t help but feel the awkwardness settle back in, like something’s shifted again. you feel a pang in your chest as you turn toward the other people nearby, the ones you've been socializing with before jungkook showed up. the buzz of the conversation pulls you away, and you focus on the group, hoping to escape the overwhelming emotions that jungkook’s presence stirs.

jungkook watches you go, his eyes lingering as you slip away from the conversation. 

he can’t help it. 

you’re in his head again.

he looks over at taehyung, catching his eye. 

“hyung, is she coming to the dinner before the afterparty?” he asks, trying to sound casual. his voice betrays him, cracking with just the faintest hint of hope.

taehyung raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of his drink. 

“yeah. excited?”

“no.”

taehyung scoffs. “say that again but take away the lying.”

“fuck off.”

“___’s a good friend, man,” taehyung chuckles, redirecting the conversation. “you’re lucky. you just might be back in her good graces.”

jungkook’s heart skips a beat. 

“really?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager.

taehyung grins, leaning in a little. 

“yeah, but... she’s bringing her little boyfriend with her.”

you’re doing what?

jungkook feels the need to rub his eyes or something.

was taehyung shitting on him? boyfriend? when did this happen? no fucking way. 

jungkook refuses to believe it. 

… yet, the words hit jungkook like a punch to the gut. his breath catches, and his stomach tightens. 

"what?" his voice is barely a whisper, the weight of it settling in. 

"she didn't tell you?"

"we haven't been talking."

"rightfully so."

fuck. 

no. 

he doesn’t want to believe it, but the hurt is already seeping through.

taehyung shrugs, oblivious to the internal storm brewing in jungkook. 

“shit, well... yeah, she’s been seeing him for a while. dunno if they’re officially together, but… guess she’s really moving on. good for her, right? i mean, now you can really focus on just being her friend.”

the air stills. 

the reality of it all comes crashing down. jungkook’s heart sinks, his chest tightening in that all-too-familiar ache. 

that's why you’ve been busy... 

you’ve been moving on.

his fingers curl into fists, the anger bubbling up before he can suppress it. but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let his emotions spill out in front of taehyung, even though every part of him is screaming. 

“yeah,” he forces a smile. “i guess.”

as the night goes on, jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s lost something he can’t get back. something that’s slipping further away with every step you take, every laugh you share with someone else. and no matter how much he wants to fight for it, he’s afraid it’s already too late.

jungkook doesn’t want to go to dinner anymore.

he has no appetite.

jungkook is already at the dinner when you arrive. 

his mood is off, grumpy but with an undercurrent of sadness that he can’t quite shake. he’s forcing a smile when people congratulate him for the award, but it’s clear it’s not reaching his eyes. the night’s just been a blur of congratulations and polite smiles, but all he can think about who will walk in with you. 

does he know him?

is he gonna be some super cool prince charming?

does he know that jungkook was eating you out just a month ago? 

all valid questions…

however, you arrive a little late, and immediately his gaze searches for you in the crowd. when he sees you, his heart lurches. he spots you talking to someone, and the knot in his stomach tightens.

you make your way to the table, your eyes scanning it before you stop. for a moment, you aren’t sure where to sit. usually, you sit next to jungkook… but the spot is occupied by jimin. 

not by choice.

jungkook had saved the spot for you… you just came too late and he didn’t have it in him to tell jimin to move. but, jimin catches the milli-second exchanged look you have with jungkook and immediately shifts. 

“oh,” jimin begins. “shit, i forgot… didn’t know you were gonna show up so late—”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “it’s fine we’re gonna sit on the other side! by the way,” you pause and push the guy you came with forward. “this is do-hwan. he’s a biochem major and we have a few electives together… um, what else?” 

biochem?

serisouly?

do you have a thing for nerds or something? bro doesn't even look the part. he should be majoring in physics or something even more lame.

jungkook's thoughts cut short when he hears you giggling.

“hi,” do-hwan says with a grins at everyone. then, he turns and extends his hand to jungkook. “jungkook? shit, man. congrats on the award.”

he chuckles, giving jungkook a playful look. “organic chem, huh? i guess someone has to study the pretty side of chemistry.” 

what the fuck does that mean?

jungkook’s ears turn red. 

“yeah,” he grumbles under his breath. “nice to meet you too.”

with that, you and do-hwan make your way to the other side of the table. jungkook watches, his gaze hardening as you take a seat beside him.

he’s trying his best to stay calm and to not show it—not show how absolutely fucking mad this entire thing is.

this is ridiculous! 

his chest tightens painfully at the sight of you sitting with him. his fingers curl into his glass as he watches you laugh and chat with others, inserting do-hwan like you’re some proud girlfriend. 

you've probably known do-hwan like 10 seconds.

and jungkook can’t help it! every word you exchange with do-hwan makes him feel like he’s being crushed from the inside out. 

he’s trying to focus on the conversation happening around him, but his mind keeps wandering, drifting to you.

he watches as you lean in to talk to do-hwan, the way your eyes light up when you laugh at something he says. it’s the same laugh, the same warmth in your smile, but somehow it feels so much farther away from him now—like a memory that he’s trying to hold onto but can’t quite grasp.

he forces himself to look at the group again, but his gaze keeps slipping back to you. every word you exchange with do-hwan makes his chest tighten.

it's like he’s suffocating, and he can’t tear his eyes away. the way he moves so casually, his hand brushing against yours as he reaches for his drink. 

it’s too much.

it’s too familiar.

and then, as you turn your head to respond to someone else, he sees it.

just a flash of it—right there on your neck. 

a small hickey, barely visible, but it might as well be a brand. his heart stops for a beat. the sight burns in his chest, and before he can stop himself, his breath catches in his throat.

his stomach churns violently, a rush of heat flooding his veins. everything feels like it’s collapsing inward. the noise around him fades, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat. the world shrinks, and the weight of the jealousy hits him like a truck.

he can’t stay here. 

not like this. 

not with this tightness in his chest, not with the ache in his stomach. the room feels like it’s closing in on him, and he knows—he knows he has to get out.

without a word, he stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. his heart races as he excuses himself from the table, slipping away into the hallway outside the main dining area.

the rest of the table doesn’t seem to notice his sudden departure, but your friends quickly start murmuring, and one of them nudges you. 

"you should probably go check on him," taehyung says, giving you an almost knowing look. “i told you not to bring him.”

you hesitate for a second, then stand, glancing at do-hwan.

“it’s not do-hwan's fault.”

taehyung rolls his eyes at you. 

“you’re playing it kinda mean tonight though,” he tells you. “jungkook’s been miserable. sure he deserves to be dragged through mud for whatever happened and for whatever he said, but this? on his night? i don’t know ___…”

you gulp.

maybe taehyung is right.

but you didn’t intend for it to be like this. you genuinely brought a friend you’ve been spending time with! and, sure… yeah. you’ve been kissing him for a few weeks now, but so what? jungkook has probably been fucking every student he’s been tutoring so why the fuck does this matter?

“___…” taehyung urges you. 

“yeah, yeah… i’m going.” 

you wave taehyung off as you get up from your seat. you excuse yourself and let do-hwan know you’ll be right back.

you find jungkook outside. 

he stands with his back pressed against the cool metal of his car, arms crossed loosely over his chest. you notice that his posture is stiff... like he’s trying to keep himself grounded, but his shoulders still carry the weight of what he’s just seen.

his jaw clenches every so often, like he’s holding something back, but when his muscles tense, it’s almost as if the anger or hurt inside him is too much to contain.

as you walk towards him and he notices you. he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, clearly agitated. he lets out a slow, shaky breath, his eyes cast down toward the ground as if trying to collect his thoughts. he shakes his head slightly, as if to shake off the frustration that has settled in his chest, but it doesn’t seem to help. 

then, he looks up at the sky, his gaze distant, unfocused, lost in the swirl of thoughts that seem to chase him in circles. his arms drop to his sides for a moment, his fingers flexing and unflexing like he’s trying to release the tension that has built up in his body.

after a long pause, he lets out a frustrated sigh, raking his hand through his hair again, this time pushing it back as he exhales sharply.

his whole stance is restless.

it’s like he can’t quite settle his thoughts or his body, caught between what he feels and the reality of what’s happening. 

he’s trapped in his own head, unable to escape the weight of the situation.

by now, you’re next to him.

are you here to set him free?

“so… have the dolphins ever thanked you for your hard work?” you ask, trying to break both the silence and tension with your light tone. “you do so much for them… ungrateful little brats—you know they’re psychos right? they bully—”

he doesn’t turn around. 

“what’s on your neck?” he asks. “did your boyfriend do that?”

your chest hurts at his words. “he’s not... he’s not my boyfriend.” you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady. “he’s just a friend.”

there’s a long pause, and when he finally turns to face you, his eyes are a mixture of frustration and hurt. 

“the same kind of friend i am to you?”

he’s trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a tremor in his voice.

you shake your head, not knowing how to explain, not knowing how to make him understand.

“you know what? i didn’t come here to make you feel like this…” your voice cracks slightly. “i didn’t... i don’t want to hurt you. i didn’t want to come.”

he scoffs bitterly.

“maybe you shouldn’t have.”

his words sting, but you can’t back down. 

“what do you want me to do?” you ask, frustrated. “if i didn’t show up, you’d be upset and blow up my phone. now that i’m here, you’re still upset—”

“and this is how you chose to show up?” jungkook raises his voice, turning to you. he steps forward, towering over you. he brings his hands to your hair, pushing it back and leaning in to look at your hickey properly. 

he squints. 

“are you proud of this?” he hisses. “fucking bug bite bullshit.”

“stop—” you snap, cutting him off now. “don’t—”

“okay. sorry, fuck..."

a beat.

"___, i miss you,” he breathes. “i just… shit. can you stay still for a second?”

there’s a long silence between you two, the air thick with things unsaid. jungkook looks like he’s about to say something, but his mouth closes, his frustration evident in the way he grits his teeth. 

instead, he just breathes you in. 

for the first time in a month and a half; jungkook can breathe.

then, he steps away and sighs. 

“think i’m gonna head home first. i… i need some space or something,” jungkook tells you. “let them know for me?”

“y-yeah. sure.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “i’ll see you later.”

“see you.”

for the first time in a while, jungkook offers you a smile and you return it. 

short and sweet—he takes it. 

he leaves and thinks about it the entire drive home.

when you arrive at the party, you’re still reeling from the brief exchange with jungkook. 

your thoughts are completely a tangled mess. 

from the words he didn’t say to the way his eyes held that edge of something unspoken—it all lingers in your mind like an unsolved puzzle. you thought you had it all figured out…

that you could be fine.

that you could move on—but now, after that moment, you’re not so sure anymore. 

your heart races in a way that you can’t explain. why does it feel like you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something scary—and yet, you're not sure if you want to fall or pull back?

your mind keeps returning to the way he looked at you, like he was caught between wanting to say everything and nothing at all. it’s not a feeling you can shake off easily.

it’s heavier than you thought it would be.

at the party, you try your best to focus on the people around you. do-hwan is by your side, chatting casually with a few people, most of them strangers to you. some faces are familiar—people from jungkook’s marine conservation club, and others... just people. 

you make your rounds, greeting them politely, exchanging pleasantries, but your thoughts are still drifting back to him. to jungkook. the air is thick with anticipation, and no matter how much you try to focus on the conversations happening around you, your mind keeps wandering.

and then, there he is.

jungkook is standing by the drink table, his posture relaxed but not at ease. 

his gaze flicks to you for a moment, a brief flicker of something—maybe surprise, maybe something more—before he meets your eyes. there’s a tense, palpable moment of silence.

he’s holding a red cup in one hand, his fingers wrapped loosely around it. his other hand rests in his pocket, but his stance is still too rigid... too guarded.

it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, for you to do something.

he doesn’t smile. 

he just nods at you. 

a small, deliberate movement that somehow feels too formal, too distant.

no words.

just acknowledgment.

you feel the knot tighten in your stomach, the nervous energy in your chest quickening. it’s the simplest thing, but it feels loaded with so much more.

you can’t look away. 

something inside you is aching to go over, to close the space between you, to ask if everything’s okay, to say something—but you're frozen. the tension in the air between you is thick enough to suffocate.

you swallow hard, trying to calm the unease building in your chest, but it's no use.

the silence stretches out, heavy and thick, as you stand there, caught between the desire to run or to take a step closer, not sure if you're brave enough for either.

you take a step back, trying to break eye contact, when suddenly, someone bumps into you from behind. you stumble forward, your feet catching on the edge of a rug, and you let out a startled breath as you lose your balance.

before you can fully fall, a strong hand grips your wrist, pulling you back against something solid. your breath catches as you feel the warmth of someone’s body close to you.

it’s jungkook.

without a word, his other hand slides around your waist, steadying you, his fingers briefly pressing against the fabric of your shirt. the contact is brief but grounding, like the world, slows for a moment, just the two of you, suspended in time.

he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer the usual reassuring words. 

his grip is firm, and steady, but he doesn’t linger. as quickly as it happens, he pulls away, his hand leaving your waist just as the tension between you starts to build.

you open your mouth to say something, maybe a thank you, but before the words leave your lips, he’s already moving away, stepping back with that familiar, unreadable expression.

you stand there. 

you’re frozen for a beat longer than necessary. your chest tight as you try to catch your breath… his sudden departure stings more than you care to admit. there’s no time for you to process what just happened, what that touch meant—or didn't mean—before he vanishes back into the crowd.

fuck.

the night only gets louder as more people flood into the house. 

the music thrums through the walls, bass-heavy and relentless, blending with the clatter of cups and the hum of overlapping conversations.

you weave through the crowd, the heat of so many bodies pressed together almost suffocating. your heart races—not from the chaos around you but from the weight of the unspoken tension that’s followed you since you walked in.

you couldn’t bring yourself to drink, though do-hwan had handed you a cup earlier. 

it’s long forgotten somewhere, left behind on a table. you’re too afraid of what a single drink might loosen in you—afraid of saying or doing something you’re not ready for.

you don’t want to make worse what already feels so broken.

“hey.” do-hwan’s voice cuts through the noise, his hand resting lightly on your arm. he pulls you aside to a quieter corner of the room, away from the crush of people. “you okay?”

you nod, a small, uncertain smile tugging at your lips. “yeah. just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

he watches you closely, his expression softening as if he’s trying to read between the lines. “you sure? you’ve been kind of quiet tonight.”

“i’m fine, really.”

“you don’t have to be,” he says, and it’s the way he says it—gentle, almost understanding—that makes you crack a real smile. “pretty sure jungkook hates me. pretty sure he’s killed me 10 times in his head in the past hour or so… and he knows all the organic chem shit to make it a really clean murder, you know? “

you let out a weak laugh, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

he grins at the sight, his confidence blooming as he leans in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. 

“there it is,” he says playfully. “i was starting to think you didn’t know how to smile anymore.”

you laugh softly despite yourself, and his grin widens. 

do-hwan then dips his head lower as he talks, his voice dropping slightly, as if the two of you are sharing a secret. it’s intimate in a way that makes your cheeks flush, his proximity unnerving. his eyes flick to yours, and he leans in just a little more.

across the room, jungkook sees everything. 

is it hot in here?

because fuck, he’s burning up.

actually, the entire house is on fire in his mind. 

he’s been watching you for most of the night, though he pretends not to be.

the way do-hwan hovers near you, the way you laugh at something he says—it feels like a punch to the chest. every small interaction between you two is a reminder of what he’s lost, of what he could’ve had if he’d been braver, better.

his grip on his cup tightens, his knuckles white against the red plastic. he can’t hear what you’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. the way do-hwan leans closer, the way his hand brushes your arm—it’s enough to make jealousy coil hot and bitter in jungkook’s stomach. it burns through him, unbearable, as he watches do-hwan dip his head lower, his lips so close to yours.

and then something inside him snaps.

fuck it. 

before he knows it, he’s moving through the crowd, his feet carrying him faster than his mind can keep up. his hand reaches out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist just as do-hwan’s face nears yours. you barely have time to process the sudden motion before you’re being yanked back, stumbling slightly into jungkook’s chest.

“what the hell?” do-hwan says, his tone sharp, but jungkook doesn’t even look at him. his focus is entirely on you, his jaw tight and eyes dark with something unreadable.

your breath catches, your heart hammering in your chest as you look up at him, startled. 

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish. 

his hand wraps firmly around your wrist, and before you can process what’s happening, he’s pulling you away. his grip is steady but not rough, a silent insistence that leaves no room for argument.

“jungkook, wait—” you try again, glancing back at do-hwan, whose confused expression barely registers in the rush of your heartbeat.

jungkook doesn’t look back, his jaw tight and his steps purposeful as he weaves through the crowd, his hand never leaving yours. the air around you feels heavy, the muffled music and chatter blurring into white noise as he leads you up the stairs.

your pulse thrums in your ears as he pushes open a door and pulls you inside, closing it behind you with a quiet but final click. the sudden silence of the room contrasts sharply with the chaos outside, and for a moment, you can only stare at him, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

he finally lets go of your wrist, his hand lingering for a split second longer than necessary before he steps back. his gaze is dark, unreadable, but the tension radiating off him is palpable. the weight of the moment presses down on you, thick and suffocating, as you wait for him to speak.

a moment passes.

then, another.

and another.

and another.

and then—

“dump him.” 

you clearly your throat.

“can’t dump him. he’s not my boyfriend—“

“you and your fucking situationships.”

you gulp.

you hate the way he says it.

situationship… fuck him.

the room feels smaller than it is, the air thick with the weight of the moment. jungkook’s jaw ticks as he stares at you, the sharpness in his voice cutting through the silence.

“you’re… fucking with me, right?” he spits out, his tone teetering between disbelief and frustration. “you can’t be fucking real right now. you were just—”

“i was just what?” you snap, your glare matching his. “no fair, jungkook. i got to hear you fuck some girl, but you don’t want to watch me kiss—”

“did i ask you to?” he cuts in, his voice rising.

“no,” you huff, crossing your arms. “but what are you asking from me right now? huh? jungkook… i don’t understand you—”

“what do you think i’m asking?” his voice lowers, but the intensity behind it doesn’t waver. he steps closer, his presence almost suffocating. “you’re always trying to act like this doesn’t matter. like i don’t matter.”

“maybe it doesn’t,” you challenge, even though the words taste bitter on your tongue.

jungkook laughs, but it’s humorless, sharp. 

“yeah, sure. that’s why you still give a fuck about me fucking—”

you snap. “don’t tell me her name.”

“what?” jungkook grumbles. “is that it? you get to parade around, yelling his fucking name and announcing it to the entire fucking world but i don’t get to tell you about the girl that came onto me for months? do-hwan biochem this, do-hwan that—do-hwan kiss me! is that it?"

"jungkook—"

"fuck, ___... listen to me, okay? let me tell you what i've been rehearsing for the past month and a half.... the girl i declined over and over again and fucked a total of 3 times because i was thinking with my dick is done. okay? if you’re trying to tell me that i fucked up—fine. yeah. i fucked up. but i meant it when i said it’s not what it looked like. ___, it wasn't like that. she spread shit about me being a good tutor and twisted it. how the fuck do you think i feel about myself? how the fuck do you think i feel about you seeing it differently—seeing me differently?”

your throat tightens, and you look away, desperate for a moment to compose yourself. 

“jungkook—”

“tell me how to fix it,” he cries, his frustration spilling over. “tell me what you want, because i’ll do it. i’ll stop tutoring if that’s what you want. fuck, i already did to be honest with you.”

you glance up at him, startled.

“why? that’s not going to change anything.”

“but i have to try…” his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “i’ll give up anything—whatever it takes. just tell me what you need, and i’ll do it. want me to stop wearing ugly ass shirts? fine. want me to stop saving the dolphins you hate so much—”

“i don’t hate dolphins—”

“you’re scared of them.”

your eyes soften. 

“how’d you know—”

“it’s obvious,” jungkook breathes. “the same way it’s obvious you’re scared of this.”

this...

what even is this?

the silence that follows is deafening. you don’t say anything, and the tension between you stretches taut, threatening to snap. his chest rises and falls heavily, his eyes searching yours, desperate for something you’re not sure you can give him.

he takes another step closer, his proximity making it impossible to think straight.

“say something,” he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper now.

but you can’t.

you don’t trust your voice, don’t trust yourself not to break under the weight of it all. so you stay quiet, the space between you charged with everything unsaid.

the weight of unsaid words and unresolved feelings pressing down on both of you. you take a step back, trying to create some space to breathe, but jungkook mirrors you, closing the distance effortlessly.

then, you look around his room for some kind of break… but it backfires as your eyes meet a plushie, laying on his bed.

hello kitty.

“what’s that?” you ask a little shyly.

jungkook turns his head, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’ve seen.

“what do you think it is?” jungkook asks gently. "___... i... i can't do it. i'm sorry, i can't..."

"can't what?"

"i can't want you," he confesses. "i can't want you when i need you that bad."

he points at the plushie and sighs. "fuck, do you know how stupid that fucking claw machine made me feel? i spent like 1 or 2—"

"hours?" your eyes widen.

he shakes his head. "hundred."

hundred.

you stay silent.

"i'm sorry, ___... for everything. i'm a shithead. i'm mean and inconsiderate. i'm a waste of time—i know... but i want you to know that... everything about my life feels so weird without you in it. the past month and half has been absolute hell. it's like... if you're not around, all i do is think about you and it fucks with me. i wonder what you're eating, who you're with, and what you're going to do next... i get excited when you seenzone me. i feel like i can finally breathe when you're near. i don't know what you did and what fucking pavlov doggy shit experiment you did on me—but fuck. woof woof. whatever you want, ___. seriously."

then, you do what you fear.

you give in.

“how am i supposed to trust you,” you start, your voice shaky but firm, “when you’re not even a good friend? you’re always so mean to me, jungkook. think about it… when have we ever been good friends?”

he scoffs, the corner of his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. 

“maybe it’s because i don’t want to be your friend.”

the words hit you like a slap, your breath catching in your throat. 

“what if i want you to be?” 

his eyes search yours, as if trying to figure out if you’re serious. 

“really?” he asks, his voice dropping lower, softer.

“really.”

his gaze flickers down to your lips, then back to your eyes, and his voice drops even lower, a dangerous edge creeping into it. 

you can feel it… you can feel it about to happen. 

“even when i’m about to do this?”

before you can process his words, his hand moves to your waist, fingers curling around you in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. he pulls you closer, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric of your clothes.

his lips find yours in a kiss that’s as sudden as it is inevitable. 

it’s not gentle—it’s firm, deliberate, and entirely consuming. his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. your hands instinctively reach for his shoulders, gripping him as if to steady yourself against the storm he’s unleashing.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing hard. the air between you feels different now—heavier, laden with something you can’t quite name but can’t deny.

when jungkook finally pulls away, the world feels quieter, as though it’s holding its breath. his hand slides up, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, and he looks at you softly, his dark eyes searching yours. the tender gesture sends a fresh wave of confusion—and longing—coursing through you.

“bad friend,” you scold him in a whisper.

his lips twitch, a soft laugh escaping him as his thumb grazes your cheek.

“don’t do that,” he says, his voice low, almost pleading. 

you raise a brow at him. "do what?"

"don’t friendzone me.”

“why not?” 

“i just kissed you.”

“so?”

“so?” he mimics, his tone teasing, but there’s a sharpness in his voice that makes you squirm. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

“kitty,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a rough whisper, “i’m gonna be impossible to get rid of now."

[starkeysprincess]

kissing u for giving me this idea cause I love frat daddy as stepbro!rafe! what if reader is 18 but in her last year of high school (I know even with age of majority that’s still kinda icky but it’s the only way this scenario would work🫣) so when rafe’s away for his first year at college before the events of s1, she knows it’s wrong but she’s always worried and jealous of what he could be doing there or what other girls he could be seeing, especially when she sees his and his frat brothers’ instagram pictures. he doesn’t always get back to her texts or calls, and even though she has needs too, she feels guilty for hooking up with any of her friends or trying to date to distract herself. so when he comes home for the holidays, she’s all mad at him and pushes him away and they get all angsty and he apologizes because you were always willing to wait for him and his approval and with him being as nasty as he is he has to remind you that you come first because “you’re my sister”🫠✨

— stepbro!rafe is away for his first year at college

warnings: stepcest, reader is 18 + rafe is 19, indent is a flashback, jealous!reader, mention of hooking up w jj, choking, hair pulling, spanking, mirror sex, degrading, praise, gagging, piv, unprotected sex, creampie, 18+ mdni !

a/n: i hope it's ok that i tweaked a few things such as rafe apologizing & reader graduated high school but doesn’t go to college cause she isn't sure what she wants to do!

“gonna miss you,” you frown into your stepbrother’s chest, hugging him tightly. he rested his chin on the top of your head, “i’ll miss you too, but hey, i’ll be home for the holidays, and i’m only a phone call away. you could call me or text me anytime, i’ll make sure to get back to you when i can, alright?”.

when rafe left for college, he responded to you when he could, just like he said he would. talking to him nearly every day almost made it feel like he wasn’t hours away from home. however, a month passed, and you started to hear less from him until your calls and texts were unanswered. at first, you assumed you weren’t hearing from him because of how busy he may have been with classes, and it wasn’t until you came across instagram posts from him and his fraternity brothers that he was too busy partying to get back to you.

it was his first year at college, and you knew you shouldn’t be upset; you had no right to be. especially when it was the only time he had freedom away from home, specifically from ward. it didn't stop you from missing rafe; you couldn’t help but think about what else he could be doing, and no matter how much you tried, knowing it was wrong, your mind started to wander over who he could be with.

when two more months had passed and still no communication from rafe, you sought out a distraction through jj maybank, who was unknowingly helping you take your mind off your stepbrother. the more time you had spent with jj, the less you thought about rafe and the promise of not running to anyone that wasn't him.

the promise you made was pushed into the back of your mind until one night, as you were about to sneak out of the house to see the blonde pogue, you received an incoming call from rafe. you could feel the guilt consuming you the longer you stared at his name, itching to answer. but your bitterness got the best of you, your finger tapping 'decline' before quietly leaving your house, not knowing rafe was calling to tell you he'd be home for the holiday.

a week later and yet another late night with jj, you tip-toed up the stairs, ensuring not to wake anyone up. just as you were about to reach your bedroom, you froze in your spot, looking like a deer in headlights, when the door to the room across from yours swung open. "sneaking back in?", his hand encircled your wrist, pulling you into his room and shutting the door behind you. “rafe, what are you doing here?” your brows furrow, more than confused as to why he was home.

“missed you, princess," his hands slid up your waist, walking you back until your lower back pressed against his dresser, "if you had answered when i called, you would’ve known i was coming home for the holidays.”.

your palms pressed at his firm chest, pushing him away when he started peppering kisses along your jaw. "what? what's wrong?" rafe asks, "don’t tell me you’re upset cause i made you promise not to go to anyone else while i was away on campus.”.

“i can't be upset over that when i’ve been seeing jj,” the words rolled off your tongue with ease, “i don't know why it matters anyway when you've been ignoring me for the past few months, probably too busy sleeping around with sorority girls every weekend”.

rafe’s nostrils flared the second jj's name slipped from your mouth, “what did you just say?” he gritted his teeth, removing his hand from your waist to grab your throat. “what?” you bat your eyes innocently, “don't act all innocent, you've been fucking around with maybank, huh?”.

"what happened to being my good girl? guess your poor, needy little pussy couldn't handle being empty for a few months, hm?" rafe snickered, "and now you wanna push me away all 'cause i've been too busy?".

your mouth gaped open to speak, only for him to cut you off, "is that why you're pushing me away, acting like you didn't miss me and your panties aren't soaking wet right now? ".

rafe spun you around to face the mirror of his dresser, bending you over. his large, warm hands slip under your skirt, pushing the article of clothing around your waist. his fingers hooked into the elastic of your panties, pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "step out of them," he ordered, delivering a sharp smack to the fat of your ass; when you didn't oblige, "don't make me tell you twice.".

rafe bent down, grabbing your panties before standing back up. his hand reached around, cupping your jaw, your lips parting when his fingers dug into your skin as he squeezed your cheeks. rafe shoved the silk material into your mouth and his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "you want an apology? fine, here's your apology.".

his free hand dipped between your legs, chuckling as he ran his fingers through your slick folds. “i’m sorry, princess…” he cooed, extending his thumb to rub circles to your clit, pulling a soft moan from you.

a desperate whine bubbled in your throat at the loss of friction on your puffy clit, your heart racing in anticipation at the sound of fabric rustling behind you. rafe nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting himself between your legs. his palm rested on the small of your back as you squirmed under him, feeling the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your folds.

he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to make you look at him in the reflection, watching your eyes roll back as his thick cock stretches you deliciously, “sorry that my poor girl was so fuckin’ needy to the point she had to run to a pogue of all people.”.

“shit…missed being buried deep in this sweet cunt,” rafe groaned, "guess i gotta ruin this tight little hole; make sure you don't go runnin' back to jj, huh?" he taunted, slowly pulling back, leaving just the tip of his cock inside you.

"don't worry, by the time i'm done with you, all that pretty little head and pussy is gonna think about is how much she missed and ached for my dick," rafe sucked his teeth, your body jolting forward, biting down on the pair of panties stuffed in your mouth as he slammed himself back into your willing cunt.

your hands grip the top of his dresser, eyes barely staying open. a loud, muffled yelp forces its way through the flimsy silk fabric stuffed in your mouth when rafe harshly tugged at the roots of your hair, "did i say you could close your eyes? keep 'em open, want you to watch me fuck you like the needy little cockwhore you are.".

rafe removed his hand from your hair, snaking it around your throat to hold your head upright. he buried his face into the crook of your neck, biting and sucking hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. he leaned forward, putting all his weight onto you and pressing his chest to your back, "this s'all you wanted, yeah? just wanted to be stuffed full of my cock again?".

drool soaked through the silk as his cock pounded into you relentlessly. you grabbed onto his arm, struggling to keep your eyes open, and your nails bite into his skin as the tip of his cock repeatedly hits your cervix. rafe’s eyes flicker to look at the two of you in the mirror, “look at how pretty you look takin’ my dick,” he praises.

“came way too many fuckin’ times to the thought of you…been craving feeling your pussy around my cock again since the day i left,” rafe rasped. “especially feeling you cum all over my cock,” he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around him.

“c’mon, princess, cream all over my cock and make a mess like you used to,” he nipped your ear, holding you steady as your legs trembled. your pussy convulses around him, his hand clamping around your mouth to further muffle your cry of pleasure as you cum all over his thick cock.

your orgasm triggers rafe’s, his hips slowly pumping into yours as they become sloppy. he gives you one more harsh thrust, his hips stilling, pushing his cock deep inside you, and letting out a moan as thick ropes of cum spill into you, painting your walls white.

rafe removes your panties from your mouth, your chest heaving, small pants filling the room. your breath hitches in your throat when his hips slowly rolled into yours, “how’s that for an apology? or you still need some convincing?”.

taglist: @oceandriveab @babygorewhore @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @bloodibambiidoll @fallbhind @sematarygirls @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @zyafics @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @cxrrodedcoffin @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesthroatbaby @jjslaybank @kisses4angels @littlelamy @rafesangelita @starkeygirlposts @drewsarms @hallecarey1 @fallrafwe @sturnskiss @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @honeybunniesoobin @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @flvredcas @emilysuperswag @proxy-princess @hyperfixationgirl @ijustwanttoreadlols @slumnit @cl4uus @coco-cinnamon @stoned-writer

[midnightorchids]

fuck it here’s some dating firefighter!jason headcanons… there’s one suggestive pick up line at the very end ;(

- He often leaves your shared home in a chaotic state— hair disheveled, shoe laces untied and a piece of toast hanging from his mouth

- However despite his hastiness, Jason never seems to forget to kiss you goodbye. His lips would connect with the plump skin of your cheeks first and then travel to your lips. He’d mutter small a “I’ll see you tonight,” and send you a quick wink before running out the door

- He laughs at your jokes and always continues the bit. If you make a fire joke/pun, you know he’s about to make a million more

- “I don't need a fire alarm to tell me that you're on fire.” “Jay come up with something better please”

- Jason works late at the station, so on days where you have some free time, you bring him a shawarma from his favourite restaurant. He’s always surprised, but so unbelievably happy at the same time. If he’s not too busy, you’ll stay and steal a couple bites of his wrap while he tells you about his day

- He brags about you to his coworkers. Like a lot. They all know you by name and they often tease Jason for not shutting the fuck up, they’re tired of hearing about you (actually they’re just jealous)

- Jason is really protective over you, especially in public spaces. He always has his hand on the small of your back or has your hands interlocked. He guides you through crowds and makes sure to keep close. On the off chance that you’re not near him, his eyes will still be on you. It’s never weird or overbearing though, he’s protective, but he’s not over the top

- he regularly watches crime and law enforcement shows with you and has a habit of pointing out inaccuracies (especially when the fire department’s involved). It’s annoying because he talks a lot, but also, it’s so cute when he gets worked up over the small details

- “The fire escape isn't the only thing I want to go down on.” “JASON WHAT THE FUCK WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT…!! ;)”

[dresshistorynerd]

The Morrisian case against fast fashion

Today I discovered that H&M made a William Morris collection some years ago. The heath death of the universe can't come quickly enough. We can stop now. Satire is dead and we killed her.

It's not just the whole concept of H&M using William Morris' designs for their fast fashion which is insanity inducing, but also the critical response it garnered. Like sure, people did realize this is insane and there was a lot of think pieces about it at the time, but I read several of them and they all seem to still miss the point in spectacular way.

The basic premise of these think pieces go along the lines of: "Would William Morris spin in his grave with a speed of light because of the H&M collection of his designs? A difficult question indeed. William Morris was a complicated man. He wanted art to be affordable to everyone. Isn't H&M affordable? That kinda fits. Though probably he would have some concerns about H&M's practices."

On the surface - yes - but like in reality - fuck no. There's no nuance in this particular issue. He talked about many times what he though of the H&Ms of his time, the retailers selling poor quality industrially produced "fashionable" bullshit. We know exactly what he would have thought of H&M. Here's couple of quotes from his 1884 lecture "Art and Socialism", which makes it very clear.

"It would be an instructive day's work for any one of us who is strong enough to walk through two or three of the principal streets of London on a week-day, and take accurate note of everything in the shop windows which is embarrassing or superfluous to the daily life of a serious man. Nay, the most of these things no one, serious or unserious, wants at all; only a foolish habit makes even the lightest-minded of us suppose that he wants them, and to many people even of those who buy them they are obvious encumbrances to real work, thought and pleasure. But I beg you to think of the enormous mass of men who are occupied with this miserable trumpery, from the engineers who have had to make the machines for making them, down to the hapless clerks who sit day-long year after year in the horrible dens wherein the wholesale exchange of them is transacted, and the shopmen, who not daring to call their souls their own, retail them amidst numberless insults which they must not resent, to the idle public which doesn't want them but buys them to be bored by them and sick to death of them."

He is describing the birth of consumerism, which was taking form during his lifetime in the late Victorian Era, which fast fashion is the extreme logical conclusion of, and he fucking hated it. He specifically railed against endless consumerist products, which H&M is the perfect representation of. It was definitely not the art and beauty he believed everyone required and deserved. He makes the distinction often.

"Now if we are to have popular Art, or indeed Art of any kind, we must at once and for all be done with this luxury; it is the supplanter, the changeling of Art; so much so that by those who know of nothing better it has even been taken for Art, the divine solace of human labour, the romance of each day's hard practice of the difficult art of living."

"And here furthermore is at least a little sign whereby to distinguish between a rag of fashion and a work of Art: whereas the toys of fashion when the first gloss is worn off them do become obviously worthless even to the frivolous—a work of Art, be it ever so humble, is long lived; we never tire of it; as long as a scrap hangs together it is valuable and instructive to each new generation. All works of Art in short have the property of becoming venerable amidst decay: and reason good, for from the first there was a soul in them, the thought of man, which will be visible in them so long as the body exists in which they were implanted."

When he thought of popular Art he thought of the craftsmanship of the common people. The art people have made from useful everyday objects with skillful handicrafts. This is what he means by "divine solace of human labour". It's not reverence of Puritanical work ethic, on the contrary, it's the reverence of creation, of the earnest joy people feel when they get to express themselves through their creative pursuits. He certainly didn't believe in work for work's sake, work needed to be worthwhile and enjoyable. He summarized his own position on what labour should be thusly:

"It is right and necessary that all men should have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to do; and which should he done under such conditions as would make it neither over-wearisome nor over-anxious."

He urged his middle class audience to reject consumerism (the lecture was for a very much middle class atheist society):

"For I say again that in buying these things: 'Tis the lives of men you buy! Will you from mere folly and thoughtlessness make yourselves partakers of the guilt of those who compel their fellow men to labour uselessly?"

I think it's glaringly obvious H&M and fast fashion in general is what he would consider luxury. Rags of fashion that are just churned out and discarded without thought and produced by compelling people to labour uselessly. It's not popular art that's made by workers and craftsmen, who are able to express themselves through it. There's no agency for the abused workers in H&M's sweatshops, they are not expressing their joy of creation, they are simply labouring uselessly.

Morris didn't shame workers for buying affortable things even if they weren't Art with big A, because that's the problem he despised the whole economic system for, for taking away the popular Art from people, making it inaccessible, and selling back mass produced products with very little practical or aesthetic value. So I don't think he would have problem with people who can only afford fast fashion today. They are the victims of capitalism too, because Art has been taken away from them. But the idea that some of these think pieces had that perhaps the H&M's Morris collection can be good actually if you squint, that H&M has the capacity to bring the art and beauty Morris advocated for for the people, is level of stupidity that's hard to express in words.

Morris didn't believe anything made with exploited labour could be truly beautiful, truly art. In his 1879 lecture "The Art of the People" he put it like this:

"That thing which I understand by real art is the expression by man of his pleasure in labour."

The way I understand this, is that art is communication. Through it we communicate feelings, ideas and thoughts, that is it's purpose. So for that communication to work, for it to be imbued with message, the person making it needs to feel passion and love for it's creation. How can there be love and passion if the hands making the garment belong to a tired exploited worker who has no agency what so ever in their work and can only think about survival to the next day?

Beyond the fundamental exploitativeness of H&M and fast fashion, this collection would still get zero points on aesthetic values from Morris even with his own designs. Because the work itself was such an important part of art for Morris, good design was nothing without good craftsmanship. Good design in his mind was always relative and dependent on it's purpose.

"For everything made by man’s hands has a form, which must be either beautiful or ugly; beautiful if it is in accord with Nature, and helps her; ugly if it is discordant with Nature, and thwarts her; it cannot be indifferent." (The Lesser Arts, 1877)

Here when he says nature, he means the nature of the thing that is made - basically it's purpose and function - and the nature of the materials it's made from. Basically, the design must always be made to bring out the function of the art and the qualities of the material it's made from, not fight against them. This is because he believed handicrafts were uniquely suitable for expressing the love of creation, therefore superior labour, and to really bring out the qualities of the craftsmanship and enjoy the creative process, the design should be suitable for that craft. The other side, which was the joy of using and experiencing art, required the craft to be selected for the suitable purpose. Using poorly functioning furniture for example is not very enjoyable, nor is using clothing that's made from materials that are not suitable for the climactic conditions it's supposed to be used in.

H&M of course utterly fails in this. They use Morris' designs in fully unsuitable ways. They print patterns made for example for wall papers on poor quality fabrics with synthetics dyes they weren't made for. This line from one blog post I came across really got me: "Therefore, without cheapening the artistic value of Morris’ designs, H&M’s collection offers an unparalleled potential for accessibility to them." No. Fuck no. They do in fact cheapen Morris' designs in every single way possible. Literally this is atrocious.

Despite the popular depiction, Morris wasn't in fact against industrial machinery or industrial art even, or at least he wasn't once his views on art and politics matured. He did think technology was useful, but he thought the people should use industrial methods for the benefit of all, not be enslaved by the industrial machine.

"I have spoken of machinery being used freely for releasing people from the more mechanical and repulsive part of necessary labour; and I know that to some cultivated people, people of the artistic turn of mind, machinery is particularly distasteful, and they will be apt to say you will never get your surroundings pleasant so long as you are surrounded by machinery. I don't quite admit that; it is the allowing machines to be our masters and not our servants that so injures the beauty of life nowadays. In other words, it is the token of the terrible crime we have fallen into of using our control of the powers of Nature for the purpose of enslaving people, we care less meantime of how much happiness we rob their lives of." ("How we live and how we might live", 1887)

However, he thought that the designer should approach it the way they approached any craft, by designing for the strengths of the machine work.

"But if you have to design for machine-work, at least let your design show clearly what it is. Make it mechanical with a vengeance, at the same time as simple at possible. Don't try, for instance, to make a printed plate look like a hand-painted one: make it something which no one would try to do if he were painting by hand..." ("Art and the Beauty of the Earth", 1881)

He did use some machinery for fabric and wall paper printing, but he was very intentional about their use. Still his designs weren't made for the type of methods these modern H&M machinery uses and he did for example use natural dyes. Particularly insulting is that some of the H&M clothes are made from viscose, rayon made with viscose method. Viscose method is extremely toxic and is known to cause long term health consequences for the workers and the people in surrounding areas. This has been well proven knowledge for ages. William Morris' wall paper factory in the beginning used the typical method used at the time which involved arsenic, but once he learned this could pose risks for the workers, he changed the method. Many of the new synthetic dyes were toxic at the time, which is the major reason he so favoured natural dyes, known to not cause health issues for workers or pollute the environment.

The question many of these think pieces about the H&M Morris collection posed was, would Morris disapprove and should we care? The first part of that is very easy to answer. Yes. Of course Morris would disapprove. He is currently powering the whole of British Isles with purely the kinetic energy his grave-spinning produces. Should we care though? If you care about Morris' art, if you want to see more of that kind of art in this world, you should care. Morris' art is not about the superficial qualities. Copying his designs and aesthetics and styles, will only lead to hollow imitations, that are exactly what he described the rags of fashion to be; as the shininess of novelty wears off they will reveal themselves to be soulless, useless and utterly empty. This collection is just that. To see more of the kind of art that makes you feel like his art makes you feel, not just something that reminds you of that feeling, you should focus more on the way the art is made and less on the specific aesthetics. If his vision of labour and art was realised, all art produced of course wouldn't be loved by every person, but all of it would be loved by someone, even if that someone was just the maker. And that would be more worthwhile than every single rag of fast fashion.

I will stop William-Morris-posting now and return to my thesis.

The full texts I quoted here:

Art and Socialism The Art of the People The Lesser Arts How We Live and How We Might Live Art and the Beauty of the Earth

[mitchfynde]

I agree with some of what you're saying and I disagree with other parts, some parts vehemently. The talking point about the primaries being rigged... it just doesn't work for me. This was not an example of it being rigged, because there flat out was no primary. There was nothing to rig. Since timing was short, they chose the VP. It's the most obvious choice, as it's the person people already technically voted for when they cast their ballots for Biden.

Another thing about the primaries is that parties don't owe you those in the first place. You can choose to vote for whichever party or independent you want. The parties don't owe you a separate democratic process for choosing their candidate. Simply don't vote for their candidate if you don't like who they chose. That's what happened this time around, clearly.

Sorry, that topic is just a pet peeve.

The assumption of "vote blue no matter who" was definitely wrong and I definitely agree it was a problem. I believe the reason they tried so hard to court moderate Republicans is because they probably were aware of the fact that public perception of the party right now is that they are too far left, as funny as that is to anyone on the left.

Honestly, I think it's hard to energize the Democrat or leftist voters. The leftist media sphere is very anti-America and anti-electoral politics. They mock the idea of voting. They are embarassed to support the candidates, as they view them as an extension of the colonizer state that they loathe so much. I don't have as much insight on why it's hard to energize the moderate left, true Democrats, but I'm sure someone out there knows.

Republican voters certainly don't have a monopoly on being dumb or voting based on emotion. I would certainly never claim that everyone who votes Democrat are intellectuals. Hell, even some of the people who ARE intellectuals voting for the Democrats are people I'd consider dumbasses. People who rallied behind Kamala while still insisting that she was genocidal come to mind.

THAT BEING SAID, I do sort of resent what you said about Democrat voters being histrionic. Voting for the guy who tried to steal the previous election sets a very scary precedent. Especially if you have any knowledge about how it was done. And it seems like the fears of what kind of administration he'd run are already proving to be correct, based on who he is nominating.

The Republicans are, right now, more fanatical and fundamentalist than they've been in awhile. Abortion already got flipped to the states. Trans issues have been center stage for years, primarily because of right wing media keeping it there. It's a scary time if you have any progressive values whatsoever. And those fears are not at all unfounded. The same cannot be said for the opposite side.

For your short list:

Don't agree with your phrasing, but I agree with you on the optics. It was definitely a bad move to skip the primaries, but I wonder if Biden stepping down so late sort of doomed them regardless.

They definitely need to energize their base more.

Appealing to Republicans certainly didn't work this time, although I think it should still be done. Biden had some success with it.

The smugness angle certainly needs to be addressed, but it's difficult with such a huge double standard in demeanor between the parties.

Wasn't even aware they scapegoated minorities, but if they did that certainly isn't a good play either.

I personally like the DNC, but they need a big refresher on strategy going forward. I have some confidence they'll at least have a better attempt next time. If they lose again this brutally, it will be crazy, but that's assuming USA has any more elections lol.

[lndsismaeverything]

I'm here | sylus x mc/reader

An: this came up bec it happen to me I frequently got nightmares. And the only thing that makes me go back to sleep is hugging my plushy and listening to some music

Words : 0.5k more or less

It was late at night as you sleep in sylus bedroom , sylus went out with the twins for a meeting leaving you alone.

You couldn't move .

Your body cold even when you have the blanket around you .

You couldn't wake up from this dream, you knew it was a dream but can't wake up. You wake up many times but can't get out of if. You are stuck in this sleep paralysis

You finally woke up when sylus came to the room and saw the discomfort on your face. He gently wakes you up. Softy shaking your shoulders to wake you up

" sweetie? "

" are you alright ? " you jolted awake you looked around your surroundings before you stood up from the bed, sylus gently warps his arm around your shoulder using his thumb to rub smooth circles.

Hes clearly worried about you

" yea...im fine now.. Just had a nightmare that I couldn't wake up, don't think I can sleep for the time being "

" is that so... I have a way to make you sleep better. Give me a minute , sweetie" with that sylus leave the room

He comes back with a cup of warm milk and handed to you.

He started to play one of his vintage record player as it plays some classical music.

" do you want to talk about your nightmare , sweetie? "

" it's just something stupid nightmare that hunts me everytime " sylus brow frown knowing this isn't the first time you've gone through it

" how did the meeting go ?" You asked putting the mug down next to the night stand . Changing the subject

" it went surprisingly well , I do have have another meeting soon" he changed his clothes and joins you on the bed

" they why are you changing ?" You asked curiously as he's switching for his usual work clothes to his sleep wear

" to get to bed, what ells kitten "

" but don't you have another meeting soon?"

" they won't mind if I move the date. " he pulled you closer to his chest and played with your hair

" you are more important right now, i can't go out without worrying you having another nightmare that you can't wake up from "

"Thank you...sy'' you snuggled against his chest wrapping your arm around him feeling his warmth

" shhh... Go to sleep"

" and don't worry I'm here "

As the night got darker, rain slowly made its way to the ground. The sound of rain and the sound of the music playing in the back and the warmth from sylus... It didn't take you long before sleeps takes over you

This would also suit for zayne x mx / reader too don't you think?

Sho I write it down?

[tan1shere]

Her Favorite - Pt 3

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: this is the last part of this series I hope you all enjoyed it !! This was one of my favs to write <3

Summary: you're the teachers pet. Her. Favorite.

Warnings: smut, tension ? A small tiny argument, fingering, strap, r sucks billies tits, teasing from both parts, slight angst ??? Scissoring - let me know if I missed anything !

Tags - @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @brat-at-the-disco @iluvapplesxh @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu

Masterlist - pt 1 , pt 2

You didn't want to believe it, but she had been distant. Why? It was bugging you because all you wanted was her. Just her. And the more the time passes that's all you could think of. Her. Your God damn teacher. You could barely focus with the thought of her recently so when she had started this weird distancing. You were a bit hurt. But, you decide to try your best to ignore it. "Hey Y/n!" You hear Silvi say, approaching you. You turn to face her. "Oh hi!" You say cheerful. "Since we didn't get to hang out that one time I thought I'd invite you to this party I'm going to tomorrow night." You think for a moment.

"You know what yeah, I'd love to." She smiles and goes about her day. This couldn't hurt anyone right? That was unconvincing, you knew it'd bother someone. But then again that someone doesn't really seem to care currently. Why the hell not!

It was a Saturday and you were in her bed, things were quiet like they have been. Until she turns over and wraps her arms around you. "Sorry I haven't been that present. End of the year so it's hectic as a teacher." You look up into her eyes. Oh.. That's why, now you felt bad about going to this party. But why, you deserved to have fun. You just nod, going to kiss her cheek and sit up. "I uh, I'll just get going." Her brows furrow. "You know you can stay another night babe." You bite your lip. "Yeah but I just don't have a change of clothes here." She looks at you. "Those are fine, no?" You sigh. "I'm going somewhere."

Her head tilts with a grin. "What, no invite?" You stand up, causing her face to shift. Her features changing at your body language. "It's uhm, a school party. So it'd be a bit you know." She caught on. "Right, gotcha." Billies fear was infront of her, she didn't want to believe it. She was 9 years older than you ofcourse you needed to be around people your age. But she wondered if that was romantically too. She didn't want that, she just wanted you. "You hate parties though." It was true, you did. Then that jealousy kicks in. "Shes going to be there isn't she." You stay silent for a moment as you put your pants on, leaving her baggy t-shirt on.

You grab your keys,but she's up and out of bed. "Hey." She says when you don't respond, coming over and making you look at her. There was more silence as she finds the right thing to say. She wants to tell you to be careful and to not do this at all. But shes better than that. "Have fun ok?" You nod again, kissing one another before you leave. The kiss lingers on your lips, and you miss it. Did you even want to go to this party?

It was too late you were already there with Silvi, having a few drinks but never too much. You really didn't like parties but, you hadn't ever been to one so why fight something you haven't even tried. Laughing, talking, music. Honestly it was boring and you'd rather be spending it with Billie, in your underwear in the comfort. Eating crap, watching movies. That's all you'd want right now. But something pulled you out of that little day dream, you feel a hand on your thigh. Your senses going off, growing uncomfortable. You turn to see it was Silvi's you look at her as she must've done it subconsciously. Talking to whoever infront of her. But her next move wasn't so subconscious. Her hand slowly glides upwards making you get up from your seat.

Her face turns to you. But before anything else you go to find your way around into a room, not realizing she had followed. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't even-" You shake your head. "It's fine. I just think I want to go home." Not think. You were certain. "You sure?" Your brows furrow slightly. Feeling uneasy. "Positive." She comes over and sits by you. "We could go soon, you got somewhere to be?" Yes. At our teachers house. "No I just, don't really want to be here." She gets closer. You felt icky. "Please just take me home." Her demeanor changes. "Fine." Your brows furrow again, what the fuck was up with her.

You were close to Billies place. "Just let me out here." She slows down. "This isn't your place." You go to open the door. "I know it's a friend's." She didn't seem to really care. Wow, Billie was right she wasn't any good. "Bye." You say closing the door, watching her zoom off. You felt gross, wanting to get in there and find some sort of comfort. You knock on the door, getting greeted by a slightly sleepy Billie. "Hey, no fun?" You shake your head, noticeably seeming down. You step in. Being greeted by the smell of her place. It was such a beautiful smell. "Something happen?" You give it a moment. "Nah, just wanted to be in comfort tonight." She sensed something was up, but going to let it be for now.

"Ok well, the beds missing you." You smile at her. "I'm missing the bed." She puts a hand over her heart. "You and my bed might as well date, you like it more than me." You giggle, shoving her lightly. She loved making you laugh or even smile. It made her feel powerful that she could make that happen, it made her heart happy to hear and see. You both get into the bed once you get out of that annoying dress. You eventually fall asleep in one another's arms.

Wednesday, Wednesday. Wednesday. Things seemed to be normal again, which you were thankful for. Today was a stripped shirt and tie day. And she looked tasty as ever. You were in a very playful mood so today you went with yet another short skirt. Her eyes land on it instantly. Giving you a look, but you just returned it with an innocent smile. The shirt you were wearing wasn't helping either. Tight. You were honestly thanking the universe that Silvi wasn't there today. You don't need some repeat of a few weeks ago. At the end of the lesson you slowly get your things, everything was so slow, intentionally so. You go over to her desk, her eyes not meeting yours just yet even though everyone's gone.

"Hi!-" "What are you wearing." Her tone was calm, knowing good and well she was far from that. "Well hello to you aswel." Your eyes roll. "And I thought you loveddd my skirts." She stands. "Why are you testing me today hm?" You shrug. "Good thing Silvi wasn't here to drool over it." You cringed slightly, remembering she was right about her. But you soon roll your eyes again. "Whatever I seriously-" But her hand was around your neck, you tense slightly but only for a moment. It was just her, you didn't need to worry. You had actually been doing that alot recently, that whole interaction had frightened you to say the least, you felt weak and out of your own control in that moment that night.

It was frightening without a doubt. "Don't test me babygirl." Her tone was full of warning, you gulp. Clenching your thighs. Her head motion down as you do, letting out a dry chuckle. "Really? You like me doing this?" Your words go. But her hand soon leaves, causing you to whine. You wanted more. She goes back over to her desk. "I'll just finish that up then we can head to mine." You had forgotten it was the end of the day. Score. You think for a moment. "Yes ma'am." She laughs a tad, shaking her head. She thought you were being silly. No, you were dead serious. So when that doesn't work you resort to your next trick. Your eyes scan her desk.

Seeing a pencil laying there, your fingers go to move it off. "Oopsies, my bad." She wasn't really paying attention, she was finishing a few things. But her head turns as shes faced with your ass. Her eyes widen as she spots the second fucked thing you did today. Her eyes look around as if someone would see. Everyone left. Her eyes return as you slowly stand up. She grabs the bottom of your skirt pulling it as much down as she could. "Are you serious?" She then says. Your head turns to her. "Whattt?" Her eyes widen again, brows furrowing tremendously. "You were sitting there. For almost an hour with nothing on!?" You giggle. "Nooo, I just took them off. But you weren't looking sooo." Her temper shines through. "Jesus fucking christ."

She's surely worked up from seeing your bare cunt on display for her. "Office. Go." You bite your lip. And boom, you got what you want. So you thought. She locks the door behind her, coming up behind you and pushing you over her desk. Causing you to bend over. "Might just tease the fuck out of you and leave you here." Your head turns to look back at her. "You wouldn't." - "Oh yeah?" Her finger makes contact with your folds. "Imagine if someone had walked in." She was still mad, making her finger retract. This was going to piss you off sooner or later. She grabs her tie, bringing it over your exposed ass.

"Out in the open like that." It travels around to your neck, she wraps it around tightening ever so slightly. "With this stupid fucking skirt." It tightens more, you gasp. But it then loosens as she grabs your wrists, tying them together. Causing you to fall further into the desk, the coolness hitting your cheek. Her hand makes contact with your hair, pushing just a tad. "Please, I'm sorry." You then plead. She chuckles maniacally. "Bad girls don't get treated nicely." You bite your lip as you think of a response. "Teach me to be good then." You say, your voice soft. It was her turn to bite her lip. "You gunna listen?" You nod. "Answer me." - "Yes, Ms O'Connell." She lets out a breath, finding the way you say it so hot.

Her hands fiddle with the belt around her waist, pulling out your favorite one of her straps. It was the second most large one she owned. And in an instant it's prodding your hole, ready for access. Your back arches, moving around to try get it in. "Don't dig your grave further." She says stilling your hips. "B-" You stop yourself. This was already bad you couldn't make things worse. Little did you know. The tip slides in, not fast enough but you keep your mouth shut. No whines, no protests no nothing. Not until she bottoms out inside you. Your mouth hangs open at the feeling. "This fucking skirt." Her fury was still evident. Very. Evident. Especially when she snaps her hips hard against you.

The stretch made your eyes squeeze shut, your legs almost doing the same but her hands make sure that doesn't happen. Your brain went into a frenzy, biting your lip so hard you draw some blood. Your tongue swipes over it, letting out a small hum. She looks at why you had done that, seeing your blood lip. She looks at it for a split second, then your eyes. The way they roll back as she's giving you backshots on her fucking desk. You were like a drug to her, she found you to be the most precious thing ever. "Gunna cum? Can feel you getting tighter." Her body leans over yours, her hands on the brown wood. Either side of your body. Her thrusts were ungodly. "Mm, yes!" You gasp as it hits your g-spot. "Found it." You moan. Cumming immediately.

She pulls out bringing you up and making you sit on the desk. Kissing your lips, tasting that same thing you tasted moments ago. Slowly pushing you back, feeling the cold desk against you. She was hovering over you, no words being said. She gets up close to you. "Maybe you should get it into your head..." Her voice low. Her hand moves to wrap around your neck her strength pulling you up and off her desk just slightly. Your eyes widen as she does. "You're mine." But you smirk, sealing the whole situation with one last kiss.

Fridays were probably your favorite, not only was it the end of the week, but you got to see your hot girlfriend. As you enter you're blinded by today's outfit. How would you ever focus. The dang glasses. The way her top fit perfectly, the long skirt. You sit down in your spot. Fixated on her cleavage. You needed to stop this was bad. Then you thought for longer. Was this pay back? Was she giving you a taste of your own medicine from the other day? Your heart skips a beat when she makes eye contact with you. Your thighs squeeze. She was so evil.

You were begging for this to be over and soon. You were also begging to suck on her t- "Y/n? You with us?" You gulp quietly, but her eyes watch your throat. She knew. "Oh, yes. Sorry." This was absolute torture. But you let out a relieved sigh when it was finally time. Everyone goes to leave as you go over to her. "Hi!" You say happily. She smirks. "Hi babygirl." That fucking nickname. "You good today?" Oh God the way she was speaking. "Yes." You knew she was asking how you were feeling, not how you would be acting for her. On your knees, obeyi- "Earth to Y/n?" Your head shakes. "Huh?" She smiles. She's got you right where she wants you. "I asked if you were ready to go my love?"

"Mhmm!" You say wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. You needed her. So bad. So when you get to hers your legs rush to her room, her slowly following. You whine at how long she's taking. "Billieee." She laughs. "Yes pumpkin?" You glare at her, getting frustrated. But you were just so needy there was no room for your bratty remarks. "Pleaseeee." You say, from your spot on the bed. She comes over, getting ontop of you. Thankfully there was a slit in the skirt so she could maneuver properly. Her hand moves over your body, moving to your soaked underwear. She hums to herself. Knowing exactly what she's upto. And glad she's succeeding.

Her finger slips past and enters you a little bit. You gasp. "Remember to breathe." ..... "Good girl." Her fingers enter you slowly. But your eyes are glued to her tits. They just looked so incredibly good in that outfit. Your hands move to touch but she grips them. "Uh uh. Since you didn't have a proper punishment the other day you need to learn your mistakes." You huff, is she serious? She can't be. You just wanted to wrap your lips around them and you wanted to do it now. "That's not fair." You mumble. Her brows raise.

"No? Not fair huh? Let's circle back to you wearing that tight, shirt and tiny tiny skirt. I had to focus on teaching, I had to refrain from fucking the living shit out of you because you indeed looked God damn hot in it. I had to wait a whole. Hour. You can't wait that, and a bit more. Can't you?" You swallow. Having no words. "Bu-" "Uh uh. Don't but me, you know good and well." You let out a moany, huff. "Come on now, don't be like that angel. You'll get what you want. You just have to work for it." You wriggle. "Ah! Lesson learned, I won't do it again." She doesn't even let your hand move to touch before she's pinning them down. "What, did I say."

And you caved, you were too far gone with need to care. "Please, Billie I'm sorry I wore such a revealing skirt like that in public, you know I won't do it again. I promise and if I break it you can do such horrible things and I'll have to take it just please. Please let me suck them." You were almost on the verge of tears, but man was she enjoying every bit of this. "You want to suck them huh?" She ponders as you nod manically. "Please, I need to so bad." She still thinks. "No wonder you were so wet." You whimper. Oh that sweet whimper. And within an instant that shirt is loose. Her tits spill out right before your eyes.

Your thighs sqish tightly as your mouth latches so fast. Closing your eyes. She bites her lip, watching you suck. Bite. Do it all. You were too far gone. Incredibly far. The way you swirld your tongue made her grunt. The feeling so good. Her hand makes its way into your hair, stroking it as you do so. "You are a good girl, shit." She breathes. But she nearly goes mental with your next words. "Mmm, mommy." Her eyes look at the headboard processing. She grabs your face, kissing you with such hunger. Your subby state makes it sloppy. Moaning into the kiss. "Say that again." She says against your lips. And as you were about to. Her finger is back in your pulsing cunt. "F-fuck! Mommy." - "Mm, good. Louder."

Her fingers speed up as you go to again. "Mommy!" It was music to her ears. If she wasn't inlove before she sure as hell is now. "Cum for me, go on." Her fingers enter deep. Making your head spin, and eyes roll back. Gushing all over her fingers. Her eyes look down, looking at the white substance. "You, my girl. Are just one sexy thing huh?" Your head rests back out of breath. "You're sexier."

Weeks pass. Things were back to how they were a few months back. Everyime something beautiful happens it gets ruined and by what? It was eating at you. Was it you? What was going on. You wanted to ask but that'd just opened room for her asking what had happened that night. She had asked the day after if you wanted to talk about it but you declined and said it wasn't important. Maybe you should've told her. You didn't want her freaking out or even saying- 'I told you so.' But when she notices your strange behavior over the last few days its making her want to know more.

The other day.

You had just woken up, making some food, when you hadn't heard her come in. You had on her t-shirt and some underwear, humming away to yourself. When a hand touches your thigh, the same thigh that she touched. You jump back, turning to look at her. She was about to apologize for giving you a fright, but then she remembered. She's done that dozens of times before. You always knew it was her and you always put your head on her shoulder. So when none of that happened she gets more confused. "You've been doing that alot recently angel, everything ok?" You're silent for a bit. "Yeah! Just didn't hear you come in." Such a lie. Even if that was true, she knew something had to be up with the way you reacted. "Okay.."

She thrusts into you slowly, it was all sweet. Everything was. The eye contact, the intimacy. Her thrusts soon speed up, wanting to get you to that bliss feeling. Loving how she always could. She was getting closer to. But everything in the room changes. She touches that sane spot on your thigh making you tense up and gasp. She hadn't noticed at first seeing as you gasp all the time. What was it with that thigh. It wasn't even because of Silvi. But for some reason she triggered it. Something happened ages ago and it was slowly coming back to you. Your hand wraps around her wrist.

Causing her attention to be on you, her brows furrow as she sees your discomfort. She would never ever want to hurt you in any way. "Too fast?" You think for a second, you had to lie you couldn't tell her what was truly bothering you. You then nod, her hand moving to your hip. Soothing any further discomfort. "Sorry babe."

She begins the lesson for today, writing on the board. After that one night things were still dry in the air. You honestly hated it, but it was probably all your fault all along. That's what you'd been telling yourself. But it wasn't all you. Billie was in fact distancing. It was the last thing that she wanted but she was falling hard for you. One half of her didn't care about the fact she was falling for someone so amazing. She loved it, and then the other half wondered if you could do better. When your in your early 30s she will be in her 40s. It didn't sound that bad but it was intense to think about. Let alone the fact she's still your teacher. Even if the year was ending for you this year, you wouldn't have to be as secret atleast.

This was her brain constantly, weighing out the pros and cons. But why should she, she knew what she felt was real despite all of that. But she cared too much about you. She just wanted you to be happy and she didn't know if that was with her. But she definitely looked good today. It made you miss how closer you were before the weird change. You hardly went over to hers anymore and it hurt. It really hurt. "Sorry I'm late." It was Silvi, she had been gone for over a month. You had no idea why. But you avert your gaze, feeling uncomfortable. Remembering that night so clearly. "That's alright, take a seat." Billie gives her a kind smile. Continuing to talk about today's lesson. When her eyes land on you, she notices that sane discomfort like the other night. All she wants to do is comfort you. But she had to stay professional.

She can deal with this afterwards. As the class nears the end she spots how you shift in your seat when Silvi walks past. Her brows furrow, now she was determined to figure out what had happened. Did she do something?

The car ride was silent. It was bugging the both of you but none of you say a thing. As the night goes on it proceeds to consist. Until she speaks up, finally. "You've been weird lately, especially that night that you came home strange from that party and you'd refuse to tell me what happened. And even the other night when-"

"Not now Billie please." - "So you admit something happened?" You stay quiet continuing to take your makeup off. "If not now when? Huh? You keep putting it off whenever I ask you if you're ok. I worry about you for fuck sakes." You turn around so fast. "Bull fucking shit. You've been distancing yourself again! I know damn well its not school. So what is it?" Now she's silent. "What, happened. At. That. Party." You turn to face the mirror. "If you won't tell me why you're distant I won't be telling you that." She was seething, you'd never seen her so angry before. But you didn't care you were getting annoyed too.

Then within seconds her hand Flys to your wrist, you jump getting a fright. She stops in her tracks. "She touched you. Didn't she." You Avert her eyes. "No." Hers squint, not believing that for even a second. "Did she?" - "Billie."

"Did she fucking touch you?"

"Yes. But I stopped it God, why are you so worried." Her brows furrow. "Because, you didn't give her consent to do that! That stupid bitch just thought she could do whatever."

"Why are you so worried when I stopped it." - "She could've pressured you." You shake your head. "Do you think I'm stupid or something?" She puts her weight on her left foot. "You know I don't think that." - "Again. Why are you so fucking worried when you're the only one I want touching me." The room fell silent, a slight need creeping in the air. Her face moves, eyes locking into your own. Her feet move, but so do yours. Lips instantly crashing on the others. Everything grew heated. "Only one?" You nod. "Only one." You both say between kisses. "It's only ever been you." Those words fuel everything in her.

Backing you up out of the bathroom and onto the bed her kisses trail down your neck, down to your cleavage. She takes all that you were wearing off, seeing you all. She then takes her clothes off, leaving you in awe about the special moment that was about to happen. Just you and her, closer than ever. When her cunt slots perfectly into yours you both let out a long well needed moan. This was all you ever wanted, it's all she ever wanted. To have you close in this way. She moves against you, her body moving closer to your own as your breasts touch. Her lips meet yours as she kisses you.

It was the sweetest kiss ever. Full of every emotion. As her movements pick up she pulls back loving how this all felt. "I love you." You were taken aback for a second. But that soon goes away. "I love you." You then reply, she was so happy. Your hands go to her face. "I'm inlove with you." Her heart melts, that's all she ever wanted. She just had no idea if you'd feel the same. "Together." She says softly, putting loose strands of your hair away from your face to see you better. You nod as she picks up momentum, feeling that amazing feeling building up. She feels it too, she feels it all. And with one last move of her hips your both gushing against one another.

You grab her face going to kiss her again, both smiling into it. She lays back on the bed, holding you in her arms. "Why I was distancing honestly had nothing to do with you. It was just my fucked up brain scared I'd ruin things and I nearly did." Your hand rests on her shoulder as you're both on your sides. "Bills. You could never ruin things, I think I've loved you for a very long time, but I too, was afraid. I'd never want you to feel like you had to choose me." She shakes her head. "I'd choose you in a million life times, over and over again." Her hands hold your face. This whole moment was just perfect. It was good to clear up things and communicate. Her eyes wander to your thigh. "I hope you know you can tell me anything at all. I'm here for you, always."

You nod as she says that. You trust her, which was hard for you. You thought this whole school would change that and it had. All because of her. You grab her hand moving it to that exact thigh. You let out a small breath as she watches your face, scans it. Her thumb moving over it soothingly. "Did something deeper happen to you?" You look at her. Thinking for a moment. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Except there was something deeper. Massively, that you knew youd have to tell eventually. And you would. Youd tell her everything. She was now your everything.

[ivyyisbored22]

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡—𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘹 (𝘧𝘦𝘮) 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

A Stray Kids one shot

Synopsis: Chan comes back home from the Gym, making up his mind to divert his head from a lingering insecurity about his body by working all night. But you make him realise how much you love his Greek God physique.

Warnings: Smut🔞 Body insecurities, kisses, hickeys, oral (m.receiving), praising.

Minors do not interact!!!

Note: This one shot was requested by this ask, thank you so much for dropping this idea on my inbox!!

If this isn't your thing, you're more than welcome to skip it. Reblogs, likes, comments and feedbacks are always appreciated.

ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ɪᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪʟʟɪᴏɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

Word count: 2.3k

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀!

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The scent of the lavender candle spread across the atmosphere of the warm living room as you sat on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket and your book, waiting for your boyfriend to come back home from the Gym.

After a lovely lunch and cuddles, Chan decided to hop into the gym for a quick session for the week.

Your eyes read across the pages of the book, your mind concentrating on getting lost in the world of fiction when the sound of the keys on the front door distracted you.

The door opened and Chan entered, looking tired after his workout session but still devastatingly attractive. His loose t-shirt clung to his damp skin and his hair was tousled from the effort. His gym bag hung from his shoulder, he gave you a soft smile when he saw you curled up on the couch.

"Hey, baby," he said, his voice low and warm as he dropped his bag by the door and kicked off his shoes.

"Hi, Chan," you replied, setting your book aside and pulling the blanket tighter around you. "Tough session?”

He shrugged, walking toward you and sinking down onto the couch with a heavy sigh. His muscles flexed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Just... needed to clear my head."

You frowned, sensing the heaviness in his tone. Sliding closer, placing your cheek on his arm, feeling the heat radiating off him. "What's on your mind?"

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the floor. "It's nothing," he muttered, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

"Chan," you said softly, tilting your head to catch his eyes. "Talk to me.”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes swirling with vulnerability. "It's stupid," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I’ve been feeling off about how I look lately. Like I’m not enough."

Your heart clenched at his words. "What?" you said, incredulous. "Chan, you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. And not just because of how you look—though let me tell you, your body is like a freaking work of art."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, but he still looked uncertain. "You’re just saying that.”

"No," you insisted, sliding into his lap and straddling him, the blanket falling away. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as you leaned in, your lips hovering over his.

"I mean it.”

Chan brushed a stray strand of hair being your ear, his eyes never leaving yours. “You always making me feel good with your words sweetheart. But I think it's just me. I could do better… I'll just do some work to get it off my head.”

He said softly, as if he was accepting defeat to his insecurities and no way in hell you're going to make him feel that way.

“Chan…” You let your lips brush his, a soft, teasing kiss that made him shudder unexpectedly, his gaze turning dark. “Every inch of you drives me crazy. And if you don’t believe me…”

Your lips trailed down to his jawline and neck. Your hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles through his tank top.

"...I’ll just have to show you.”

Chan let out a shaky breath, his hands finding your waist as his eyes darkened with intensity. “Baby,”

Before he said anything, you placed your index finger on his lips, hushing him. “Shh… you always make me feel good Chan. Tonight it's my turn.”

From explosive nights to loving mornings, Chan always made you feel like the centre of his world. He would never make you question anything about yourself. But when he does it to himself? Now that's unfair.

Chan groaned against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you closer. His body was warm beneath you, his skin damp from his workout but still so inviting. You kissed him harder, pouring every ounce of love and admiration into it, desperate to erase the doubts that had crept into his mind.

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands moving to cup his face. "You don’t see yourself the way I see you," you murmured. "Every time I look at you, I see strength, kindness, and beauty. And that body of yours? It’s a masterpiece, Chan. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

He exhaled deeply, his hands sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

“And you’re irresistible,” you countered, tugging his t-shirt upward.

He hesitated for a moment, a soft pink blooming his cheeks and a flicker of doubt crossing his features, but you didn’t let him pull away. “Nope. None of that,” you said firmly. “You’re perfect, Chan. Let me love you, please.”

Your plea sent something electric shooting straight through his body, after another second of hesitation, you took the black t-shirt over his head, your eyes drinking in the sight in front of you.

How can this man question his body? He was breathtaking in every possible way. Broad shoulders, chiselled, defined abs any man would envy. He was everything.

You kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberate. Your lips moved against his as your hands explored his shoulders and chest.

"Baby..." he breathed as you began trailing kisses down his jawline and neck, sucking on his sensitive skin leaving purplish red marks, your tongue flicking out to taste the salty sheen of his skin.

When your lips met his Adam's apple, it moved up and down as he let out a low, guttural groan, his head tipping back to give you better access. Your tongue traced the curve of his throat before your teeth grazed the skin, drawing a shiver from him.

His body trembled under your touch, and you could feel his self-control slipping. "You're driving me insane," Chan murmured, his hands gripping your waist as if anchoring himself to reality.

"Good," you whispered against his skin, your lips curving into a smile as you continued your slow exploration. "That’s exactly what I’m trying to do."

Your hands slid down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingertips. You leaned back just slightly to admire him, your gaze roaming over every dip and curve of his torso. The soft candlelight accentuated the sharp lines of his abs and the strength of his arms.

You slowly started moving downwards, making a trail of hot wet kisses down his chest, your tongue flicking ever so softly over his areola, nails tracing his hard abs. Your fingers came back up to gently play with his nipples, Chan let out a heavy sigh.

You couldn't help but smirk at the way you have almost full control over him, finally and wondrously making all the way down, trailing kisses and licking every muscle of his abs, your lips reaching all the dips and valleys it could.

You kneeled before him as your hands played with his belt, your eyes flicked up to meet his.

Chan’s breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling as he watched you with a mix of anticipation and adoration. The candle and the dim light cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look almost unreal, like a god brought to life, sculpted just for you.

Your fingers worked deftly, unbuckling his belt and sliding it free that made him tense. "You okay, Christopher?" you teased, your voice low and sultry.

He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. The way you said his name, in that voice you only use when you take charge, made him dizzy.

"You’re making it really hard to think right now.”

"Relax Chris. I wanna show you how much I love you," you replied, pulling his shorts down revealing his Calvin Klein boxers. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the V definition, your lips lingering as your hands roamed over his thighs and palmed his growing bulge.

Chan groaned louder, his hands gripping the edge of the couch as he fought to keep his composure. "You’re really something else, you know that?"

"Only for you," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin.

You slid his shorts down further, your fingers continuing to brush against the growing hardness beneath the fabric of his boxers. Chan hissed softly at the contact, his head tipping back as he let you take the lead.

"You’re so handsome," you murmured, your hands gliding over his thighs and up to his hips. "Do you have any idea how much I love every part of you?"

His eyes met yours again, and for a moment, all his insecurities seemed to fade. "I think I’m starting to believe it," he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that made your heart ache in the best way.

Your lips curled into a satisfied smile, “And I’m not stopping until you do.”

Chan inhaled a long breath when you leaned forward, pressing another kiss to his hipbone before sliding his boxers down, your touch gentle and revealing his beautiful, velvet shaft proudly springing free from the confines.

Fuck.

He was impossibly hard, veins running through his length, the soft tip already leaking pre cum making your mouth water, ready to take him.

You stacked your hands on the base of his cock, kissing and licking the pretty tip before fully taking him in. Chan's head fell back, his hands gripping the couch, chest rising and falling, his length hardening more.

You started slow, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head, savouring the salty taste of him mixed with the faint hint of his cologne still radiating off his skin.

Chan’s breath hitched, a deep groan escaping his lips as you wrapped your lips around him, taking him in torturous inch by inch into your mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice strained with pleasure. His hands twitched at his sides, resisting the urge to thread them through your hair and guide your movements.

But he didn’t need to—you were perfectly in control, and it was driving him insane.

You hollowed your cheeks, creating a delicious suction as you bobbed your head enthusiastically, your hands working in tandem to cover what your mouth couldn’t. Chan’s hips jerked slightly, a low growl escaping him as he let go of the last shreds of his restraint.

"God, you feel so good.” His voice was thick and unfolded like layers of velvet.

Your eyes flicked up to meet him as you hummed around him and stroked the faintish hairy skin above his length sending down vibrations that made his entire body shudder.

The sight of him, his head tilted back, the perfect view of the column of his hickey covered throat, parted lips, chest heaving, defined torse was enough to spur you on.

You increased your pace, your tongue sliding along the underside of his shaft, tracing every vein and ridge. Your warm mouth on his cock made blood rush through his body like an erratic tsunami, all his insecurities washing away like sand under the tide.

Chan’s hands finally found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out a broken moan.

"I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that," he warned, his voice rough and thick like gravel.

You pulled back slightly, letting your tongue press and circle around the tip of his length before releasing him with a soft pop. Your hand replaced your mouth, stroking him slowly as you smiled up at him.

"I love how you feel down my throat," you teased, your voice sounding gentle yet so sexy, he let out a shaky laugh, his head falling back against the couch.

Your entire focus was making Chan feel like a king, you continued your pace on sucking on his cock, your movements becoming more fervent as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.

Every moan, every curse that spilled from his lips was music to your ears, and you felt your own arousal pooling as you lost yourself in the act of loving him.

"Baby... I’m so close, fuck," he panted, his tightening grip finding its way back into your hair as his thighs trembled beneath your touch. His moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room as he surrendered completely to the pleasure you were giving him.

With one final swirl of your tongue and a firm stroke of your hand, you felt him tense, his body going rigid as he let out a shuddering gasp. White warmth spilled down your throat, and you swallowed every drop of his cum like you had starved, savouring the taste as you milked him through his release.

Chan collapsed back against the couch, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. You slowly pulled back, strings of saliva attaching from your lips onto his length.

Wiping the corner of your mouth with a satisfied smirk, you leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his quivering abdomen. And one for each ridge of his defined abs.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

"You’re flawless, my Chan.” You chuckled, brushing your lips against the sensitive spot just beneath the tip.

He let out a breathless laugh, his head—both of them—buzzing with the aftershocks. His hand reached out to pull you up into his arms. "You’re gonna be the death of me," he said, his tone rough, looking almost shell shocked.

"Not a bad way to go," you teased, nuzzling into his neck as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close.

Chan kissed the top of your head, his voice steady and warm as he whispered, "Thank you. For loving me the way you do."

"I will always love you." You replied, your heart swelling with adoration as you both basked in the afterglow of the moment.

"I want you to see yourself the way I see you," you murmured, your voice soft but firm. "Strong. Gorgeous. Perfect."

Chan smiled warmly, his heart swelling with adoration, the room filling with nothing but the sound of ragged breaths as your mouths collided and the lingering scent of the lavender candle.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Enjoyed this one shot? Consider checking my masterlist for more. Requests? Check 𝚁𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 (& 𝚁𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜)

Thank you for reading!

xx,Ivyy

[purinfelix]

Gavi bf headcannons 👉👈

pablo gavi bf headcanons ˚⟡˖ ࣪

a/n: aaaa haven't written for my baby in agesss thank u for this req anon !! (ik it's preeeetty old so i hope u don't mind sjdnfdksjnf)

★ was actually quite shy before the two of you started dating, and even at the beginning of your relationship - just because he seemed intimidated by the idea of you and didn't want to put a foot wrong when talking with you

★ but as soon as he got comfortable with you he's talking your ear off about everything

★ like i just know he has the craziest gossip from the lockerroom and has opinions on absolutely EVERYTHING

★ just so so so clingy like you're literally amazed at how he used to function before the two of you started dating bc now he can't go more than like a day without seeing you

★ it isn't like a possessive clinginess (in reality it's actually a lot simpler) - he just knows he feels happy around you, and he loves you, so why wouldn't he want to spend every waking minute with you?

★ like, if there is a situation in which you have to spend time apart he's not going to stop you, but just know he's not going to enjoy it at all and the minute you reunite he'll have to make up for lost time

★ that and maybe a thousand texts about how much he misses you or tiktoks because everything he sees reminds him of you

★ love language is 100% physical touch like is there even a question ...

★ and it's more than just hugs and kisses it's interlocked pinkies, goodnight kisses on the back of your nape - if the two of you are lying on the couch or bed doing your own thing he'll throw a leg over yours just to feel your touch

★ thinking about that time kuonde said he's really fun to tease bc he's so easy to rile up ... yeah

★ like of course it's all loving but you just love the look on your boyfriend's face when you tease him - his pout and pleading eyes ...

★ definitely not a morning person at all, you've spent way too many mornings struggling to wriggle out of his grip in fear of being late for work/class

"Baby, I need to go," you say sternly, though given the fact that you're boyfriend's eyes are still closed you don't feel confident you're going to get your way. "Mmf," is all you get in response, as well as him strengthening his grip on you and burying his face into the side of your stomach.

★ (just remembered that clip of him snoring LOL) - which you actually didn't notice for like a year into your relationship because he always made sure you fell asleep first, it just makes it easier for him to rest knowing you're comfortable

★ but one night when u woke up to get some water you were absolutely shocked by how loud he could be (you opted to sleep on the couch that night because you wouldn't have been able to rest otherwise - but he came and found u in less than an hour because the empty space next to him woke him up)

★ as much as he hates to admit it, he lovesss being babied like he'll try to hold out as long as he can and put on a big manly front but the minute you're cooing and calling him pet names he's melting immediately

★ doesn't fully understand things like makeup/hair/clothes but what he does know is when his girlfriend looks extra beautiful

"I like that thing you did with your hair today, it's really pretty," he hums as the two of you are getting ready to leave on a date. "Oh? My blowout?" "Yeah, sure, it looks good on you - same as when you get those little white lines on your nails done." "French tips?" "Yeah, you tell your nail lady that and I'll pay for it."

[caughtthedarkness93]

Ok, I guess I gotta talk about that one scene in Dragon Age: The Veilguard eventually because I've heard about discourse regarding it and it's driving me up a wall with how some of the criticism ignores key context from the rest of the story that informs how it's written. Spoilers for Taash's storyline follow below the cut.

So I mainly have seen this referenced on TV Tropes because I am not on the hellscape that is Twitter, but people, it seems, have been criticizing the scene where Taash comes out as nonbinary to their mom for how they get pissed at how their mom takes it. Often this is used to frame Taash as being unreasonable as their mom is struggling to understand what that means.

And I feel like that criticism kind of misses a big part of what that scene is actually about. Because Taash's relationship with their mom is complicated. This is something that their storyline stresses repeatedly. Taash has fond memories of growing up with their mom and knows that she basically gave up her whole culture to ensure that Taash wouldn't be forced into a soldier's life. It's clear that their mom is still very attached to Qunari culture and she outright expresses a couple times that she feels like being a Qunari scholar equipped her extremely poorly to actually raise a child. That checks out - under the Qun, that would be someone else's job entirely.

So this informs a lot of Taash's relationship with her - Taash recognizes that she gave up a very privileged position with the Qunari for their sake. Because she wanted a better life for them than what they'd get there. That's a huge sacrifice.

However, you watch how they interact, you can see that Taash's mom is also very critical of them and very controlling. She doesn't care much for Taash's privacy, tries to make a lot of their decisions for them without putting a lot of thought into what they actually want, and she is extremely critical of them sometimes about things that don't really matter.

So we get to that scene late in their storyline - the Lighthouse dinner. I think the critical mistake a lot of people make when looking at this scene is thinking that it's about how she reacts to Taash's gender identity.

Which that informs it, sure, but there's more to it. When Taash yells that nothing they do is good enough for their mom, it's not a reaction to how she responds to their identity, it's a reaction to the way their whole relationship has been built up throughout the game. It's the straw that broke the camel's back. And it's true to Taash's character.

One of the things that I like about Taash is that they're someone who likes a straightforward, direct solution to most problems. Thing in your way? Break it. Big scary monster? Kill it. They like to be able to take the most simple, direct path through a problem, preferably one that involves slaying a big monster, and Veilguard constantly puts them in situations where that isn't an option. And in those situations, they struggle a lot. Taash struggles to get along with Emmerich because that involves overcoming internalized prejudices (and understandable ones too - necromancy is something that would probably make a lot of people uncomfortable irl and for a culture where cremation is the norm and undead can be a legit issue, that would go, like, quadruple - of course they're uncomfortable with Emmerich). That's not an easy thing to do because it involves a lot of introspection and interrupting thoughts that you've been trained to think. Taash questions their gender identity. Definitely no easy, straightforward way to solve that. They angst a lot over being afraid they're broken somehow for feeling these things. A fraught, complicated relationship with a parent who sacrificed everything so that you would have a better life, but can't seem to bring herself to let you actually live it the way you want? Can't hit that with an axe.

And ultimately, that's what's happening in this scene - the whole game, we've seen Taash struggle with this really complex, nuanced relationship, this mother who clearly loves them and wants the best life possible for them, but struggles to understand what their child really needs and often says or does things that are hurtful. In this scene, this bubbling, brewing resentment, definitely exacerbated by Taash being outside their mom's orbit and with a team that has more faith in their skills and abilities, finally comes to a head.

The scene is only about Taash's identity on the most surface of levels. Yeah, that's what sparks the argument, but it's not what the argument is about.

[raayllum]

Trailer Breakdown time

Important notice: There will be spoilers from 7x01 mentioned as well from NYCC as well as screencaps that were previously released. Read ahead at your own risk!

So what a trailer am I right?

For this meta I'm gonna divide into sections in terms of episode order (largely 7x01, 7x02, and speculation to the mid season point) and then also talk about voice overs / clip placement from previous seasons when I think it's relevant. Let's go!

What we know

These shots of Callum and then Ezran and co. touching down in Katolis, as well as the vision Ezran has of his parents (which the fact he's seeing like that rather than how they actually were, sitting on the thrones side by side, is life ruining let me tell you) are all from 7x01, "Death Alive".

We know thanks to 7x01 that Runaan is arrested and everyone goes to the Banther Lodge to set up a temporary camp / plan their next moves, hence a makeshift council meeting (which Ezran having the throne brought with him... baby boy really isn't doing well). So it seems the following screencaps are all from 7x02.

We can also place this Callum and Rayla handhold at the Banther Lodge by the bridge outside.

They are probably (for whatever reason) conspiring/deciding to free Runaan and leave, leading to this scene with matching sky / colours - Soren and Rayla squaring off before Ezran arrives with more guards.

He might let them go or try to hold on, but they successfully flee / get away. I could also see Rayla and/or Runaan stepping in like "I'll stay behind, you go to the Silvergrove" (and if Rayla offers, that might melt Ezran enough to let them leave). Either way, I think Ezran's conversation with Aanya on the Banther Lodge bridge will either influence the choice(s) he makes here if it's before, or reference this crossroads if it comes after before we leave the Banther Lodge for the season.

We also know from 7x01 that Aaravos wants a Moon primal stone and to likely corrupt the Moon Nexus in order to invert life and death, destroy the Cosmic Order, and bring about eternal night. It seems likely Claudia and human Aaravos will achieve these aims by the mid-season point-ish. After 7x01 they have to go to the Puzzle House to get the map to the Garden of Innocence with unicorns, and they will likely require Terry's Pure Heart (my interview with Aaron Ehasz) to read the map to get them there. If 7x02 is "pure heart" that could be a nice parallel between Callum-Rayla and Terry-Claudia about a willingness (or lack of) to help and why.

From there, it's all speculation, so let's get into it.

What we can speculate

So first things first, we get Claudia and Human Aaravos at the Moon Nexus doing the Nexus inversion, presumably, and bringing people / creatures back from the dead. One looks rather like Ziard and brings up a staff, which Aaravos takes.

We also know this is earlier on in the season because Claudia's har is more white. During the spell, we also see Soren, Terry, Allen, and what seems to be Aanya holding a dead / unconcious Lujanne on the ground. It seems both Soren and Terry are running to stop her, though I don't know what Allen is doing (maybe holding back Ezran for some reason, if Ez is there).

Then we have more of the dead coming out, including a dragon that almost squashes Soren but does not have a rider, so it's not the same (assumedly) as before.

Later on, we see more creatures crawling out of the water at what seems to be the Nexus, since it's bordered by the same walls as the lake.

We also see Aanya and Ezran surrounded by the dead at the Valley of Graves (hi Sol Regem skeleton), but the moon doesn't look as... corrupted / taken as it does at the Nexus shot, so this could be happening in the early stages of the spell. Then Ezran could send Soren, who gets there too late, and who knows how fast Aaravos can travel on his own.

There seems to be some kind of confrontation between Ez, Aanya (hi exploding fire arrows), and Aaravos at the Valley of the Graves either way.

Since like I said the Moon isn't in the right spot, I'd wager the Ez-Aanya fight here is from 7x03 or 7x04, with the Moon Nexus inversion in 7x04 or 7x05. In the same timeframe, Rayla (and Runaan + Callum?) is going back to the Silvergrove and being put on trial.

The little tiny mushrooms here and in the section with her and one of the fallen assassins makes me think that rather than just standing around and talking, there could be an underwater dream-like portion to the trial as well. Something like "You touch the assassin and get blood on your hands (literally)" because they love their on-the-nose symbolism.

So I don't think the screenshots here are Rayla getting injured... Yet.

Now onto the harder to speculate sections, or what I like to call

What the Fuck is Going On

It seems, since Callum and Ezran learn that, "Aaravos is back. He wants to bring about eternal night. He's unleashed the spirits of the dead" (Callum) that the kids regroup and plan for what to do next. This could be 7x05 or 7x06. The trio (broyals / Rayla and Ezran) reconcile maybe from the Runaan fall out, with Ezran asserting that, "We have to be ready. We have to build our defences." (This could also be where Callum's line as a "the three of us have been through a lot together. We'll get through this, too" comes in as a parting goodbye before the group splits, as well as Callum's heroic rallying speech that is very reminiscent of 3x08: "There is a way out of this. With good people doing courageous things. Doing what's right!").

This "building our defences" could mean that the trio splits up to go get allies from prior seasons, like Rex Igneous (Ezran and co. shot) and Akiyu. They could also be fetching sun crystals for Aanya's arrows.

We see Callum defending an unconscious Akiyu (by the water) and Runaan (just under his tunic flare). His ice spell seemingly responds to Claudia's fire spell, and she has more white hair and is standing likewise near water. So it seems we'll get a Callum Claudia duel face off sometime in the mid to late season!

It also seems that Claudia's Laurelion dragon-scale necklace is just a dragon-scale, but gives her the super armour / fire power-up.

At some point we also meet up with the Sunfire elves, not just at their ruins / make-shift camp, but at the Sunforge palace itself, since Khessa's throne is in the background in these shots with Rayla. The purple background and Phyrrah also indicates that Soren and Corvus are in the same area.

Presumably, they've gathered all their allies (end of 7x08?) and are preparing for their final attempt to defeat Aaravos (and free Callum?). And Callum is going to get possessed, so when do we think it's happening?

Well, if the gang is travelling to get allies, Callum (and Rayla - and maybe Ezran or others?) have gone to get Zubeia perhaps from the mushroom mage. While there, shit goes down, and we get this shot of Callum (presumably from 7x06-7x07):

While the cube is angled the way it was in Callum's dark magic dreams, I don't think this is a dream. The background doesn't match up with previous, we've never seen this form of corrupted face for him with his eyes not black, and he has a white streak, which was never present when dreaming of himself as Aaravos' puppet last season.

I also don't think Callum is going to do dark magic to coin Aaravos (at least not for the initial corruption). Not only is it a little wonky pacing wise, it's a bit too clean, as it takes away the #1 threat Callum is scared of when it comes to doing dark magic. While he of course doesn't want to be corrupted at all, it was primarily the fact the corruption would make him Aaravos' puppet that scared him. It's also a bit too thematically contradictory for Aaravos to be successfully defeated in a 'bad way' rather than in a good way (teamwork, etc) nor does it work with the 6x03 set up for him and Rayla, but that's just me.

That all said, the fact that the trailer highlights his parallels to Viren and Claudia not just once, but twice (god bless that "however dangerous, however vile" and another "I would do anything for you") and through Kosmo's 6x06 voice over ("If you ever do dark magic again, the darkness and corruption will overwhelm you") makes it pretty clear that even if it hasn't happened here, it will happen in the season eventually. I don't think i have much to say on this plot beat / characterization that I haven't been saying for, well, the past 4 years, cause if you know, you know! (And I'll probably do a post just screaming about this + the cube later anyway.)

We also have some misc screencaps that could go about anywhere (Terry running, him + Aaravos and Claudia in the woods with the flying primal stone? Seeker or guider?) even if I do think they continually point towards Terry defecting this season.

Conclusion

If I missed any screencaps or you have any questions feel free to send them my way in my askbox! What do you think is going to happen and what are you most excited for this season?

[usernose]

This may be late because the full Megamind series season(1) is out, but I might as well advertise my favorite spin-off show to you, sad disappointed fans that are mad at DreamWorks for giving Megamind the low budget TV series treatment.

Also, to my Megamind mutuals that actually like the show, please know that this isn't against the show, I still think it's neat, but I still want to give attention to this niche series that I adore so much.

Hey you! Are you a miserable little slug, seeing DreamWorks gave your favorite movie the mediocre low budgeted TV series treatment, and you didn't want to hate watch it for some reason, so you decided to watch a video about the crab man losing his mind over it for your entertainment. Well, what if I told you that the crab man is wrong... about another series. That other series is Big Hero 6. YES! THAT'S RIGHT! BIG HERO 6 (2014) HAD A SPIN-OFF SERIES OF THEIR OWN! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T, YOU SILLY GOOSE. IT'S BEEN OUT FOR 7 YEARS AND BARELY ANYONE WAS TALKING ABOUT IT BEFORE ATHENA P MADE A VIDEO ABOUT IT. Sure, it did have some mentions in some videos, but it didn't have as much as a positive impact as much as the Tangled series did, but also didn't get the negative impact that the Megamind series had. It was just stuck, sitting in limbo, being forgotten by the DTVA, and only remembered by its fans, or what's left of them. But besides all of that, the show is honestly amazing with the writing, the new characters and villains, and the amount of trauma the writers give to Hiro in some episodes. But besides all of that, the show is honestly amazing with the writing, the new characters and villains, and the amount of trauma the writers give to Hiro in some episodes. Great stuff, really. Props to the season 1 villain to get under the heroes skins while still being an entertaining antagonist whenever he's on screen. The same goes for any of the villains. Well, some villains, some of them are kinda annoying in some cases, but most of them are beloved by the community. Now, yes, the series is taking place after the movie, but not instantly with the "What are we" line, but they actually build up to that point with the 2 parter episode that is "Baymax Returns", which is a good first episode, it has it flaws, but that ending is such a banger.

They actually remade the end credits from the movie into the series to make it more consistent with the story and introduce the main villain for the series. Anyway, go check out the series. It's a good watch, I promise you that. Or if you don't feel like it for whatever reason, watch the Athena P video on it. She basically already explained the main storylines from each season if you didn't want to binge watch the series as a whole. Also, a bonus, they have their own shorts series, and they are free on YouTube. Thanks for reading my poorly represented advertisement of my favorite show.

Me watching Megamind 2 trailer:

[eddiediazenjoyer]

we always talk about the eddie torment nexus but buck's life has been sucking so hard lately it's almost comical. what if your son that isn't your son unless your best friend dies moved away and you have a boyfriend who you don't really like that much and then you find out that he dated your ex that you credit with transforming your entire personality and then you ask him to move in with you bc you're crazy and then he says no and breaks up with you and then you have to bake all the time to keep from calling him bc you're addicted to being in bad relationships so you don't have to be alone with yourself and so you can mold your personality off of them and then you go over to your best friends house and you're flirting with him and about to make cookies in his kitchen and everything is okay for a minute and then he tells you he's moving away. and your entire world shatters at your feet but you have to be supportive bc it's his (your?) son. so you sit next to him on the couch while he makes plans to leave you. just like everybody always has. and you help him instead of saying what you really want to say. which is of course i love you and i can't imagine my life without you

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 06

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Prisons are noisy.

I went through the security check and was ready for the visit, waiting in a room with several tables where emotional family members awaited their loved ones who could walk through that door at any moment. The minutes on the clock with hands, hanging on the wall in front of me, moved with hypnotizing slowness.

Tick. Tock.

It didn’t take long for her to come, hands restrained by handcuffs and wearing an orange jumpsuit. Not very different from her daughter in physical appearance, even though the daughter was much prettier. I saw her neck stretch as she searched the room for someone she knew, and when she spotted me sitting there waving with a small smile, her posture stiffened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Crystal barked, sitting in a chair across from me. Without any manners, she didn’t even say good morning.

"I found this in a pile of mail and saw you needed a visit." I signaled with the paper between my fingers. Opportunities rarely landed so easily in my lap, but this one was worth thanking the gods for.

"But it wasn’t your visit I asked for! Where is my daughter?"

"Was there a problem with your watch? You’re nine years late to ask if she’s found a place to live!"

"That’s none of your business!"

"Everything concerning her is my business. Don’t be ridiculous!" I said, loosening my tone slightly.

Crystal looked around uneasily. Her nails were dirty with soil, and she looked sweaty—I guessed it was from the prison’s activities. Clearly, the days here weren’t treating her well, judging by her expression and the size of her dark circles.

"How did you end up here?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "No… wait! Let me guess! This is definitely your idiot boyfriend's fault, isn't it?

"I need to talk to my daughter," she completely ignored my sarcasm and dragged the chair closer to the table.

"Don’t tell me you’re hoping for her help to get out of here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Her silence made it inevitable for me to burst into laughter, shaking my head slowly. Leaning forward, I rested on my elbows on the table to speak as quietly as possible.

"You know when I’ll let you get near her again?" I whispered into her wide eyes. "Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? You realized you’re alone, and she might be your only source of money and a ticket out of here. Only for you to then go after that man and keep ranting about her on social media like a lunatic, giving even more material for the people who hate her to make her life a hell!"

It was impossible not to notice the sudden change in her expression. With me, she could show her true face without hesitation. Playing the victim wouldn’t work.

"And what makes you think you have the right to come here and tell me what to do?" she questioned, lifting her chin as if she were in a position to challenge me. "I don’t think we’re that different when you took advantage of my daughter’s open door to keep destroying the little she had left!"

"EVERYTHING THAT FUCKED HER HEAD UP UNTIL NOW IS YOUR FAULT!" I spat, pointing a finger at her. From the corner of my eye, I saw the guard adjust his position as the conversation escalated. "No matter what I did to fix it, you always seemed to be there like a damn shadow to remind her where she came from!"

"I’m sorry if you wasted nine years of your life, boy."

Suddenly, that sentence felt like a shock through a high-voltage wire, and I stood frozen, staring at the apathetic face of the woman in front of me. I couldn’t say for sure if I had wasted nine years of my life while we were together, when I knew nothing but her. No other feelings, no other touch—nothing that didn’t come from her. All because I refused to live something different, something that didn’t include her, even if it meant facing hell every day.

I blinked a few times and clenched my fists before my thoughts could drag me into a place I couldn’t return from now.

"If it’s up to me, you’ll rot in this place, and I’ll do everything to keep her further away from any news about you."

Crystal swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting nervously, tensing as my presence loomed over her. I leaned down to leave one last message in her ear.

"And I’m sure you’re still in touch with that boyfriend of yours. Don’t forget to tell him he can’t keep running from me forever," I whispered with satisfaction, hiding a little laugh.

Slowly, I straightened up and looked down at her one last time, seeing her as still as a statue, staring blankly at the table. I stepped back gradually and walked toward the exit, dreaming of the moment I’d finally rid myself of that place with its strange smell.

When I arrived at the studio, the band was in their respective spots, rehearsing on their own. Everyone was laughing at something that quickly lost its charm the moment I crossed the door, as if a dark cloud had invaded their colorful world.

Chewing my gum with more intensity, I hardened my expression as soon as I saw Landon sitting on one of the stools, like an audience interacting with the performance on the small stage in the center of the room.

I didn’t miss for a second that his eyes—and his stupid, unfunny jokes—were directed at one single person, who seemed to find joy in even the wind brushing through her hair. I shot him a brief glare that could have pierced his body while the energy drink can in my palm seemed to disappear under my grip. We worked at the same record label. He was the owner's son and the vocalist of some irrelevant band. Naturally, we didn’t get along.

“You’re late, Noah!” The lone feminine voice broke our eye contact, and I turned to join the others. I didn’t bother looking at her directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched her adjusting her guitar while he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

More precisely, off her long, tattooed legs, exposed by a short plaid skirt.

“I’ve got a watch,” I replied.

An awful silence filled the room in seconds, and Folio broke it with a casual drumbeat, a habit whenever we traded jabs.

“And you, Landon?” I asked while checking the microphone setup. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I remember booking this space just for my band today.”

“No one complained about me being here before. We’re just hanging out, chatting, man. Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry about it,” he said, smirking. “Ruffilo was giving me a few tips.”

It felt like my face had been plunged into a tub of lava, the heat rising so fiercely in my cheeks. If the mic stand could talk, it would probably beg me to stop gripping it so tightly.

“I don’t see any problem with Landon watching the rehearsal.” Strangely, she seemed overly agreeable today, her sultry tone almost convincing if I weren’t paying attention. Actually, I knew perfectly well why she was acting so liberally—she was high.

“But I do,” I snapped without taking my eyes off him, still lounging in his seat like he owned the place. “We already have enough issues with band members getting distracted, and the last thing I need is a pest hanging around!”

“Buzzkill.”

I caught a whispered insult from afar, followed by their shared laughter, which only fueled my rage.

Jolly and I exchanged glances, and I was sure he was thinking exactly the same thing I was.

“I won’t ask you to leave again!” If my eyes had the power to kill, his body would have been shattered to pieces by now.

“Okay, okay! See you later...” He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging in mock surrender. “Oh, Noah, almost forgot—I’m hosting a little party at my place, just something casual with friends. It’d be cool if you came with the rest of the band.”

And who said we were friends?

“See you there!” Folio shouted from the back of the room.

Landon nodded, and just before leaving, I noticed him brush his hand against hers in a slow enough motion for her to take whatever he handed her and tuck it into her pocket. I took a deep breath as the door shut, leaning my head against the microphone stand with my eyes closed while my bandmates silently gestured to one another to start playing.

“It’s too late…” she began, testing the microphone.

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, throwing her hands up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“Okay, okay!” Jolly intervened. “It’s fine; we’ll start over.”

The intro of Take Me First started again, and I saw her clear her throat, straightening her posture as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Even after all these years, she still warmed up incorrectly, yet her voice seemed to defy every logical explanation, getting better every time despite her doing everything wrong.

Every time she opened her mouth and delivered a line, my mind entered some hypnotic state. My body didn’t care about the destination, as long as she was guiding the journey with her characteristic husky, dramatic tone.

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I ordered. “Start again.”

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I repeated. “You’re still coming in at the wrong time!”

Her lips trembled as she huffed in frustration, and without saying a word, she excused herself, marching across the room to lock herself in the bathroom.

“Have you lost it? She’s coming in at the right time, according to the new intro!” Jolly snapped, impatient. “If you’re going to nitpick, at least point out real mistakes!”

“Jolly’s right, man. Chugging all that energy drink is probably messing with your chakras!” Folio teased, punctuating his words with a playful cymbal crash.

“Folio, where did you even get the idea that energy drinks can do that?” Ruffilo asked, spinning his neck around with a puzzled expression.

“Let’s continue the rehearsal,” I said over my shoulder, watching them exchange glances.

“But she hasn’t come back yet…”

“If it mattered to her, she’d be here. Let’s go!”

Without questioning, they returned to their positions, and the intro started again. I cracked my neck from side to side before leaning into the microphone. During the opening bars, I closed my eyes, trying my hardest to pretend she was in some parallel space where her shadow couldn’t reach me.

But all it took was opening my eyes to collide with reality.

The bathroom door was still shut.

After practice, everyone grabbed their things and left for their destinations.

I have to admit, I felt betrayed, but screw it.

Lying on the couch in the living room, nothing seemed to hold my attention. I couldn’t watch a movie, couldn’t read, or even jot something down in a notebook because even the sound of the pencil scratching the paper annoyed me. I picked up the guitar and placed it on my thigh, hoping silence might serve as inspiration, and on the first chord, my luck had the string snap.

“Shit.”

I sighed, bored, banging my head against the back of the couch. On the floor, there was a pile of crumpled-up balls of paper from all my failed attempts at composing something. My mind was emptier than my stomach.

“I hope your little party is awful, sweetheart,” I murmured sarcastically to myself. Maybe talking to myself was the last stage before fully surrendering to madness.

The light of headlights in the garage caught my attention through the window. Judging by the incessant chatter, it was the guys—they were laughing and coming inside with parallel conversations and an armful of grocery bags. When I came face-to-face with them, I did a mental roll call, frowning when I noticed someone was missing.

“Huh,” I hesitated, crossing my arms and leaning against the couch. “Weren’t you all at the same party?”

“No, we changed our minds and went to the supermarket,” Ruffilo shrugged, lifting the bags. Suddenly, all the smiles disappeared. “She’s not here?”

My feet went numb, and for a moment, I thought I was floating, the ground vanishing beneath them. What pounded in my chest could easily be mistaken for the echo of a drum, grating against my ears. I didn’t fully understand why, but there was an unsettling itch beneath my skin that spread throughout my body, like a thousand needles piercing all at once.

“Shit.”

“Noah, where are you going?” one of them shouted, but I was already out the door and in the car, turning the ignition with the same speed I left the garage.

I was definitely speeding, but my vision felt too blurred on the city’s narrow streets as I swerved past car after car. The tightness in my chest gripped me diagonally, and I used my finger to loosen the collar of my shirt, trying my best to breathe in slowly and stay focused on the road.

Every time I heard a horn, it had the power to jolt me back to reality, preventing my car from crashing into another on the shoulder. The closer I got to the address, the more my agony escalated, and the harder it became to fight against the paralysis threatening my body.

I parked in the first available spot I found. Cars were haphazardly positioned with no room to maneuver, so I had to vault over a few hoods to get through. Loud music and a dense crowd amidst smoke—the party at Landon’s was so packed and noisy it was impossible to hear my own thoughts. Dodging a few girls drinking and bumping into a guy, I ended up with an entire drink spilled over my hoodie.

He was ready to curse me out but paused when he looked up and smiled.

“Noah? Noah Sebastian?” he squinted, double-checking what he was seeing. “Hey man, would you mind taking a picture with me? My sister loves—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, turning my back on him, breathless, my heart hammering at a wild rhythm. It felt like I was getting closer.

Instinctively, I decided to head upstairs. On my way, I ran into Landon. He was stumbling over his own feet, wearing star-shaped glasses, nearly collapsing onto me. Luckily, I pushed him off just in time, throwing a punch that sent him sprawling onto the floor, creating a circle in the crowd.

Shaking my fist in the air and ignoring the murmurs, I took the stairs two steps at a time. As I reached the hallway, my insides twisted in dread over what I might find. Kicking open the first door, I found a couple—clean. The second door revealed some people passed out. The third was empty, aside from the mess.

That left me with only one option.

At the end of the hall, there was only one white door, which I assumed was a bathroom. I forced the golden doorknob and found it locked. Panic flared through my body. I slammed my shoulder against the wood, breaking through on the second try.

The music became just a distant echo.

And my heart was on the verge of stopping.

It was impossible not to collapse onto the wet floor beside her as soon as I saw her pale, unconscious body with liquid trickling from her lips. Despite my panic and groans of anguish, I forced myself to check her pulse. I abandoned every rule about not touching her again, cradling her in my arms and thrusting my fingers into her mouth to reach her throat. But there was nothing to pull out, and even if there had been, she was too limp to expel it.

“No. No. No. No,” I repeated in desperation, holding my phone to my ear while dialing emergency services. “Stay with me. Keep breathing. Please. Please. Please!”

I had no idea if I was doing the right things, but I was alone and couldn’t think of anything else besides needing her to come back. Her face was so sunken I could see the blue veins stark against her skin. Her well-shaped lips were dry and cracked, contradicting the increasingly shallow breaths escaping her nose.

“Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing,” I kept repeating, pressing my lips to her forehead, feeling something wet and salty transfer between us as the hold music played in my ear. “Please, my little storm.”

The music outside drowned out my cries of pain—not physical, though. My body felt numb, like enduring a long episode of cramps. All the pain was internal, dissolving as I watched her grow colder in my arms.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75

[jazeswhbhaven]

hi!! can I request whb!kings ( and some nobles if you want ) reactions to a mc who says they love long-haired men?

Hi there!! I am feeling this request heavy because I too find long-haired men aesthetically pleasing to look at irl and fiction. Let's see what our kings think :P

Satan: He has long hair. It's fluffy, unruly at times and smells like cat fur, but it's still long. So when he hears MC going on and on about men with long hair, he's grabbing their hands and forcing them to pet his hair and play with it. I mean he's standing right there, might as well fulfill your desires MC....

Mammon: He hears that MC loves long-haired men and it brings him back to the time he had long hair, long and luxurious that he inherited from his father. Using his little Ai bots and a bit of magic, he creates a machine that can change your hairstyle in less than 5 minutes. And with that, his hair grows out past his shoulders, and MC is in awe. Leave it to Mammon to do anything for MC's attention.

Beelzebub: His hair is kinda long, but it's styled because he prefers it that way. But he starts to get testy about MC being around Bael because when he takes it down from being tied up, it's pretty damn long, he just never has time to cut it. Because of that, he may have cut Bael's hair while he was sleeping....that way MC won't have any distractions and can be reminded of Beel when he's away. It's a good thing the other nobles have short hair....

Leviathan: What's so good about long hair? It gets in the way, makes you look like a wild animal, and isn't very flattering at all. He's already upset with MC even mentioning others who have long hair and a particular devil comes to mind. Next thing you know, MC is noticing that Levi is letting his hair grow out. The other devils in Hades are now required to keep their hair at a certain length which is no longer than the bottom of their ear lobes.

Lucifer: His hair is kept at neck length because he prefers it that way, but can understand why MC likes long-hair. In fact, he mentions that Gamigin has long hair and that MC should go and braid it sometimes. Though, MC's point was to get Lucifer to try and grow out his hair longer, maybe past his shoulders. That won't ever happen, his hair would get caught in his open wound that still on his back and he can't have that.

Belphegor: He likes his hair medium length because it's less maintenance. He doesn't think he could ever deal with long hair because it would never be washed and get all messed up and greasy beyond repair. However, he's willing to put on a wig for MC because he can take that off easily, or just get Beleth to do it. But don't expect that wig to be in good condition after a couple days of him sleeping in it.

Asmodeus: His hair is so long it drags across the floor. So when MC mentions loving long-haired men he's front and center smothering them with his hair. He even asks MC if they would like it if he grew out his hair in other places too. Also he read their mind when they once thought about doing inappropriate things with his hair. He wants to try that out. Right now in fact.

NOBLES TIME~

Sitri: His hair is short now, so when he hears about MC having a thing for long-haired men, he's considering growing it out again. After a couple weeks his hair reaches his shoulders and it's fluffy and pretty. Everyone in the palace kept forgetting it was Sitri, and MC was running into things because they kept staring. He felt it was too much of a distraction so he cuts it. But it was fun while it lasted.

Zagan: This noble has such pretty silky hair, MC can't help but compliment him each time. Zagan doesn't have much to say, but here lately he's been using a different conditioner and shampoo and now his hair is even longer and shiny. He secretly hopes this gets MC to talk to him more.

Paimon: He always has his hair tied up in pigtails so when he reveals how long his hair is to MC, he's happy to hear that MC is impressed and wants to play with it often. Paimon even encourages MC to get extensions to match, because he also likes long-hair on potential suitors. Now they can matcchhhhhh <3

Bael: He's pretty pissed off that Beel cut his hair in the middle of the night, but at least now he looks even more similar to his annoying best friend. He always liked having his long hair tied back and even planned on growing it out more because he found out MC likes long-haired men. Now it's his chance again, at least his hair grows fast.

SURPRISE ITS RIN!!!~

When Jjok turns into his other form, his hair is long, pretty, and super red like his fur. It was merely a coincidence that MC happens to like men with long-hair so he brags about it whenever he gets the chance too. Imagine him, a simple red lump demon that can turn into a hottie with long-hair? He smiling and even bothering Lucifer about it too.